Soft

Get thee to a softer surface, say my trail running friends. And I don't disagree. I used to get about a third of my miles on trails, although much of this was on that trail I call the towpath. At the mention of that name, my trail running friends fall all over themselves to be the first to blurt out (think Crocodile Dundee here), "That's not a trail!"

But it is fairly soft, and that's the point.

Why am I thinking soft these days? It's the same old story: the Achilles Tendinitis pain. The level of pain has waxed and waned over the past two years or so, but it's never gone away. Lately I've learned that running fast, relative as that is, aggravates it more than most efforts.

A month or so ago, I was beginning to feel a little better, and I ran the 20-mile drop. Although it hurt afterwards, the pain was manageable. Then I did a couple 5K's. Reaching speeds approaching 7:30 per mile (did I mention that speed is relative?), I felt like I was running quite fast. At least I was moving. But then, the old AT really let itself be known.

Okay, it was time to back off a little. Then, guess what? I started feeling a little better and running a little better, and I followed that up with another 5K a week ago (the Hyland HY-5, 22:49 or so, no placement in Age Group). Guess what? Pain again. Big Pain again.

Now I'm back to slow running once more. And of course that makes me soft, but this is not the point. In fact, I forget what the point was...

Oh, now I remember: soft surfaces. I ran 10 of today's 16 miles on dirt, cinders and grass on the old, almost non-existent track behind the middle schools. Around and around I went, slow and not too steady. At least it was slightly decent mileage.

And guess what? It hurts.

A Fairy Tale: Better. Worse. Better.

Once upon a time there was a boy named Dan. Dan used to be an okay runner, but then he got old and injured (note that cause and effect are beyond the scope of this fairy tale). The injuries lasted for quite some time, but the Achilles pain (the longest-lasting of Dan's injuries) began to subside, little by little. All this happened a long time ago and in a galaxy far, far away.

Feeling a bit better, Dan began to run a bit faster and farther. He even entered a few little races.

But then the Big Bad Pain returned. This time it was Mr. Pain-in-the-butt Piriformis, along with the other villain Achilles Tendinitis. ,.. and Dan was unhappy.

Over the last couple weeks, Dan worked on his exercises in order to keep those bad people at bay. Maybe it's working. A little.

Dan had a nice run with friends this morning in the Chippewa Lake area. Time to pick things up again.

My Watch Thinks I'm...

In some ways, my Garmin 620 thinks I'm really slow. All it sees are my daily slogs where I either a) run very slowly but manage ten or so miles, or b) run much slower still for only a few miles. Occasionally, it sees me running somewhat longer on weekend days. But now that I've done at least a couple races, it can observe some slightly faster running. 'Slightly' being the key word.

A week ago I ran the Victims' Rights 5K in Medina. This free event is tiny in numbers and takes place during a weekday evening. My time was about as expected: 24:30 or so. That's close to Personal Worst territory, but I wasn't totally unhappy with it. One must take what one can get these days, and I would have been happy with anything at all.

And my watch was happier still. 'New 5K PR!', it exclaimed. Since it and I have only been acquainted since mid-January of this year, I suppose that that's about right; I never have actually run faster than that this year.

If it was happy then, it was positively extatic on Sunday, when I ran the Race for Brunswick Blue Pride 5K in 23:19. 'New 5K PR!', it exclaimed for the second time in four days. And once again I felt it was about right. Nowhere near the race times I managed a year back, but one must, as they say, take what one can get.

So yes, my watch thinks I'm slow. I get it. I am. But in some ways, it thinks I'm actually better than I am. I only wish I knew why. It calculates my VO2 Max on an ongoing basis, and it has me at 56 now. I don't know what that means, but it's the best it's been for the year. Good to see that steady improvement. I think it bases it's race prediction times on VO2 Max, although I'm not sure.

My race prediction times are: 19 minutes for 5K, 38 minute for 10K, 1:24 for a half-marathon and 2:57 for a marathon.

I have a lot to live up to.

The Years Have Been Good to You. It's the Weekends that did You In.

The post subject line says it all. This past weekend I ran over 29 miles. That never used to be such a anything speacial for me, but nowadays, in the words of Vice President Joe Biden, 'it's a big f_____g deal'.

Saturday's run on the Towpath with Larry Orwin certainly brought back fond memories. I hadn't been down to the Station Road Bridge area for many months, and it was truly enjoyable to return to this beautiful area, to run on the old Towpath, and to do so with Larry. We ran to Peninsula and back for a total of 14 miles.

Sunday's run with Debbie S., Michelle, Luis and Rick was also just fine. We did the nine-mile loop followed by a couple 3-milers around the lake as well as some other stuff. I topped all that off with a walk with Debbie, Veronica and Malcolm.

All's Well that Ends Swell

So much of how we feel about how we did for any particular run comes down to how well we finish. When I managed that relatively fast sub-eight minute mile at the fifteen mark of Sunday's run, I felt like I would need to run the next (last) five at that pace as well. Despite my best efforts, I did slow back down to eight-plus pace. But those last miles were still among my best for the day.

Therefore, I felt pretty good about the run as a whole. Had I started that fast, and finished with the relatively slow mile splits of my first two miles, I'd have been very disappointed.

It's all how you look at it.

20-Mile Drop

Been a while since I've done a race report. This is primarily because it's been a while since I've done a race. So long, in fact, that I forgot how much fun racing can be.

Together with Michelle Wolff, Debbie Scheel and Donovan Lee, I drove up to Fairport Harbor, where we then caught the bus up (and I do mean up) to Chardon. We would be running down (and I do mean down) from there to the lake in downtown Fairport. Along the way - in the bus and in Chardon, we talked with Larry Orwin, Tim McGinty and other running friends. Some I hadn't seen in  quite some time. I didn't realize how much I missed racing.

We ran around Chardon, then onto an all-purpose trail that took us well past half-way. It was pretty running through the parks and greenways on this picture-perfect day. Temperatures were mostly in the forties, but got up past fifty by the time we were finishing. Running weather doesn't get any better.

Not knowing how I would do for a race this long and this far removed from the types of running I'd been doing, I had started very slowly. I came alongside Tim at mile two, and we chatted a while. Noting that he's in my age group, I picked it up to about 8:30 pace, and started to try to catch Michelle.

I could see her for several miles, but only caught her at about mile seven or so. We stuck together for several more, holding on to that 8:15 to 8:30 pace. Michelle was telling me about a 50-mile race she had registered for, and in my delirious state, I started thinking about joining her for it.

At about mile 13, they were handing out energy gels. I had expected them earlier, but this would work. I then picked the pace up just a bit, even though there were a few uphills to contend with. The course wasn't all down - the biggest uphill was back at about mile 2. I didn't realize how much I'd picked it up until I reached mile 15, and my watch told me I'd done a 7:48. My first sub-eight mile came as a surprise.

We were running on the road through Concord, Painesville and finally into Fairport Harbor. I felt sorry for all the traffic we held up along the way.

Now that I had done one, I wanted to do sub-eight miles the rest of way. Of course wanting to and doing so are two different things. I managed only a low eight-minute pace. Still better than most of the previous fifteen miles, but not as fast as the one.

The finish was fun and exciting. Debbie, Donovan and Larry had all run well, and they were cheering us  all on. Michelle came in a minute or two in after me. My time was 2:46. I found out that I won my age group. Woohoo!

At the Finnish Area

As we ate pancakes and awaited the awards we bumped into more friends, including a big surprise: Patti Tomasello, who had been injured. Just about all of us wound up with some prize, and we posed for a photo by the 'Finnish' monument afterwards.

And how could we drive home before jumping into the lake? Well, I went in up to my knees anyway. It felt good on my Achilles. Of course said Achilles is making me pay today.

On the beach

Soaking that Achilles

Streaker!

If you lived through the seventies, you may recall that streaking used to mean something other than running every day. If someone yelled 'Streaker!', you would expect a naked guy (they were always guys, unfortunately) to be running through some public area. I actually encountered one of those seventies types in a bar. But that's a different story. Now, at least to anyone associated with running, streaking means running consecutive days for some period of time.

I streaked from the end of November, through December, and into January, at which point the reality of our travels intervened. Even that almost didn't matter, but I became a little ill whilst on the ship, causing the miss. If that didn't do it, the trip home would have.

Then when I got home, I picked it up again, running every single day from mid-January, until...

Until Monday.

It was the day after Easter, also known as Dyngus Day in these parts. Our Easter celebration had been Saturday, and the whole family, including Valerie, had been around. Vincent had been sick earlier in the week. He'd been throwing up. First Valerie, and then Debbie and I also began to feel sick by Sunday. Incidentally (or maybe not so much so) I also ran quite well on Sunday morning. Debbie Scheel., Donovan Lee and I did the Hinckley loop in 1:21. That's average or so-so by my old standards, but these days, it's really good - my fastest in many months.

Where was I? Oh yeah. Sick. Didn't feel well on Sunday and again Monday. I suppose I could've done a mile or so, but... I just dindn't feel like it!

And now I've run every day again, from Tuesday through today (Thursday). Yes, it's a new streak. How long will this one last? I like to base future predictions on history. Probably not long at all.

I may be a streaker, but I'm not a very good one.

Sleep Must be an Inconvenience for You

It was the start of my second nine-mile Hinckley loop at 5:30 AM, and since people were asking, I informed them that I had arrived at 4:00 AM and had already completed a loop. And that I had gotten up and out of bed just before 3:00 AM. That's when John Pavlick observed, "Sleep must be an inconvenience for you."

The gang proceeded to leave me in the dust. That was okay - I know the way. So yes, I was the Beetle Bomb, (In case you're wondering about Beetle Bomb, it's something Debbie's dad always used to call the kids when they were late or slow, as in, "Here comes Beetle Bomb". I found this video as the probable source of that.)

Having said all this, I actually ran relatively well today.First loop was 1:28, the second 1:26. I'll take those, Beetle Bomb or not.

Time for a nap.

River Road Run

Cold rain. I hate cold rain. I am running - if you can call it that, as slow as it is - down towards River Road here in Niagara Falls. It would have been easy to nix this cold, damp outside run in favor of something warmer, dryer and even faster such as a comfortable hotel dreadmill. But I think about how spring began yesterday evening after an awful winter - an awful winter that included way too much dreadmill running. I think about how many times I have pined for temperatures even just a little warmer than the single digits (today it was about 37). I even think about that year - yes, an entire year - in the nineties that I spent running entirely outside, based on a self-imposed exile from treadmill running.

Two Marriotts, including ours. An Embassy Suites, a Travelodge and several other hotels. Tony Romas, Margaritaville, Brasa, Outback, My Cousin Vinny's, Applebees, and gobs of other restaurants. Three or so casinos. The Silly-Skylon tower. The place is like Vegas, I think, as I turn onto River Road after descending the big hill away from the glitz. I hate glitz. Now at least it's quieter by the falls. Except, of course, for the roar of the falls. I have descended to a point directly across from the American Falls. It is still partially surrounded by ice and snow, but still pretty despite the cold, the dark and the misty, foggy light rain. I can see Horseshoe Falls about a half mile up river, but I turn the other way onto the walking trail.

Black, hard-crusted snow. And alongside it, black ice. I hate ice. I don't even like it in drinks. I have been running north on the walking path between River Road and the Niagara River, and now that I am getting farther from the glitz and the lights, the icy spots on the sidewalk have become more numerous. So I move onto the street. There is very little traffic at 6am on a Saturday away from town so there really is no danger.

At about 3.6 miles - just where I thought it would be - I come to the Aero-cars. These cable cars travel above a swirling whirlpool area of the river are a touristy thing that we did with Dave and Carol the last time we were in the area, about 12 years ago. I hate touristy. But it was actually ok. For today, this is as far as I want to go. I turn around and head back.

Now the cold wind and misty rain is in my face. I hate wind.

I try to pick up the pace, at least a little. The change is almost imperceptible. I hate running slow.

I turn back up the hill to return to the hotel. I hate hills.

After an extremely long time and not an extremely large amount of mileage, I make it back to the Marriot. I think about how much better it is to run outdoors than indoors. It’s like cats: indoor cats live longer than outdoor ones. But who would want to be an indoor cat, when the alternative is freedom? I think about all this in spite of how I hated everything along the way. I love running.

Debbie and me in our hotel room overlooking the falls

By the American Falls

Doing the Double -or- Well That was Dumb

The last time I did a double (two Hinckley 9-mile loops) was over a year ago. Now I finally did it again. Same old friends, same basic results. Which is to say, I made it. Woohoo.

Not that it was easy. Been a tough winter for sure, but the Achilles injury made it much worse. But now I'm done with the physical therapy, and am incrementally better. So naturally I had to try to ruin myself again. I hadn't run more than 12 or so since January 1, so 18 hilly miles would definitely be a challenge. Turns out that it was a dumb challenge.

My Achilles began to hurt (as much as it ever had) during the last couple downhill miles of my second loop. That's when I also began to berate myself for being so stupid. Everyone else is doing a double. I'm feeling fine, so why not go for it. I've gotta get back in shape. All the things we say to ourselves. You know the talk.

And it kept hurting for several days, resulting in a not-so-great week of running, despite the (finally) good weather.

Now, a week later, I'm back on the road to recovery once again. Maybe I'll try another double tomorrow.

I AM Running. And Don't Call me Shirley.

Of course I'm referring to one of my all-time favorite movie lines. In that case, it was, "Surely you can't be serious," Followed by, "I AM serious. And don't call me Shirley." In my case, I figure the neighbors must see me moving so slowly that they would be reluctant to call what I do, running. Therefore, in my imagination, they are wondering, "Surely he can't be running," and my imaginary retort is the title of this post. By the way, Leslie Nielson's line from Airplane is number 79 on the American Film Institute's list of Greatest Movie Quotes of All Time.

Winter from Hell, Part Too

One would think that something from Hell would be on the hot side, not the cold side. On the other hand, it's conceivable that one may also be able to say that anything coming from There would be arduous to infamous in various ways. Last winter qualified on that level. And now that we're just wrapping up the coldest February on record, this one does as well.

Has there been an impact to your running, Dan (you ask)? Hell, yes, I answer. I'm pretty darn sure that for the past couple months, I've done a larger percentage of my miles indoors than any such period in my running history. Yes, I'm spending more time on the mill, and enjoying it less. They do let me out on some days - usually weekends with friends, and the few days where the weather isn't totally awful. Sometimes I just get mad as Hell, say I'm not going to take it anymore, and go outside regardless of the cold. I did this today, but didn't get far in the sub-zero cold.

And when I do run outside, I'm even slower than ever. Having said that, I do try to push the pace once in a while in hamster mode.

Is there any good news at all (you ask)? Hell, no, I answer. But there is a slight amount of not-so-terrible news. I've just completed my third week of physical therapy, and I can say that my Achilles Tendinitis is incrementally (read: slightly) better. I'm doing everything I'm told by the Physical Therapist (Patti), and by George, it's working. A little.

And for some more not so terribly awful news, March begins on Sunday.

GPS Games: Go Get Great Garmins

I am fully aware that the Post Title doesn't make much sense. Do they ever?

It is true that I am now the proud owner of a Garmin Forerunner 620. The 620 is a step up from the 610, but I am sure that some day they will come up with a 630, and we'll all have to upgrade. They can't fool me.

Having had GPS watches before (a Soleus given to me by friend Jack Reilly, and prior to that a Garmin Forerunner 305), I suspected that like Angie Kovacs, I would wind up having an unnatural love for my 620. And I do. I love the information it provides, even though I never know quite what to do with it. Information, in and of itself, is still, in my mind, a good thing.

Other runners joke that their 620s are smarter than they are. Mine is definitely smarter than me. It reports cadence, vertical oscillation and ground contact time. These metrics are called running dynamics, and according to Garmin, they effect running economy. Who am I to question such a thing? It also tracks heart rate and VO2 Max. It tells me when, and for how long to recover, and can also predict race times. I just can't possibly match wits with any of that stuff. On top of everything else, it even counts steps and can estimate distance, speed, and the rest of the stuff for treadmill running.

Treadmill running is something that I've been doing a lot of lately. Although not quite as terrible as last year, this has become another awful, long and hard winter. That is to say, it's another normal winter, if you consider all those winters before global warming spoiled everyone. Accordingly, outside running has become more challenging than usual. On weekends, I've managed to get out with friends, but for most weekdays, you will find me on the mill.

The 'ole mills are beginning to get to me though. I may have to actually venture outside again someday. Maybe in spring.

If it's Sunday, This Must be Hinckley

About a year ago, I published my list of Hinckley runs, extracted from my running log. If there had been any doubts about my sanity, a quick look at that list will quickly dispell them. This post will be a bit different. 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's 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 Cristina Sparks, Rob Lisy and Alan Dravenstott. Once again, the 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 Cristina, 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.

Dan running up Effie on a similar Sunday

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.

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.

Running in French Polynesia

01-05-15 10m

'The ship leaves at 5, please be back by 4:30,' says the bleary-eyed security guard as I take off running away from the ship in downtown Papeete. Papeete is the capital of French Polynesia, and is located on the island of Tahiti. It's a sleepy little town, especially this early on a Monday morn.

I only have time for about two miles of dodging occasional cars and wild dogs, as well as trying not to trip on the dark, uneven sidewalk, before it's time to get back aboard.

Now it's time to get some relatively serious miles in. The fitness center won't open till six, so I hit the track. The deck is wet from rain and I have to be careful not to slip. Ten laps per mile. Can I hold my sanity together enough to do eighty?

I can and I do. Most of the laps take me about a minute each, but I do pick it up as the run progresses. I dodge around the guy swabbing the deck and the occasional walker. Eventually another couple runners come out, but by then I'm about done. Well done.

01-07-15 10m

Last time it was eighty laps; how hard could one hundred be? The answer may surprise you. Pretty hard. With only ten to go, I am beginning to struggle a bit. What to do? Run faster, of course. I let loose on a scintillating 8:20 miles, my fastest yet. It's still over nine minutes per mile for the entire ten mile run, but all's well that ends well. And pulling into Bora Bora lagoon and anchoring just as I finish doesn't hurt either.

01-09-15 5m

Having a cold here on vacation isn't the greatest situation. But I suppose it beats having a cold at home. I do feel fairly miserable this morning, however, so I start out ultra-slow. Guess what happens then? I taper off. Only five miles today.

01-12-15 5m

That cold turned out to be a sinus infection. It's bad news. Today I did only five, but they were better than the five I did the other day.

01-13-15 10m

Still have the infection, but this wasn't quite so bad today. I begin my run pondering the stars and dancing around the guys swabbing the deck. Soon it begins to get light, and I am treated to a spectacular sunrise. I also notice that the ship, moving towards Rangiroa, is nearly surrounded by rain.

Of course there are rainbows. The deck swabbers are gone, and a few runners and walkers have now joined me; I am no longer alone.

I also pick up my pace a little. Now I am at and sometimes below nine-minutes per mile. I finish strong - infection be damned.

Who says running around in circles - even 100 of them - is boring? Even 380 total for the trip.

To read about the trip itself, including a link to the photos, click here.

Well Here's Mine

It seems that everyone's posting year end summaries, so here's mine. It sounds like one of my race reports: I did okay for a while, and then the wheels fell off. Even my 'okay' running wasn't as good as last year's, but it sure beat not running at all for two months in the summer. I'm doing just slightly better these days. Finishing BW50K was an accomplishment.

2,074 miles for the year (the least since 1987). Total time for this madness is 13 days, 4 hours, so my average pace per mile is about 9:10 (the worst since forever). But the best part about the year is doing this along with all my running friends, new and old. MCRR is the best. And 2015 can only get better, right?

Twelve Good Miles

When discussing our anniversary, and/or how long we've been married, I'll often say, "we've had ten good years of marriage." And then I'll add that we were actually married in 1975. The math speaks for itself. I did run twelve good miles today, but it's too bad that the length of the run was eighteen.

The three-forty-five A.M. alarm came early. After figuring out where I was and who I was, I also remembered that it was Christmas Day. I also remembered that I was about to do a long run, since that's what I do on Christmas; at least some Christmases. I've actually had some epic 20 to 25 milers in the cold and snow on Christmases past. I'd be happy if I could get 18 on today's relatively mild (about 37F with very light rain/snow and wind) Christmas Day.

Why so early? Well, it takes time to run that far, especially at my slow pace. And I had committed to meeting women in dark places once again. This had been the topic of conversation at last night's Christmas Eve Party. Today it would be Brunswick Lake at 6 A.M.

The lake is about two and a half miles from my house, but I take a four-mile route in order to avoid running on route 303. After a slow start, I gradually picked up my pace, getting to the lake in time to do one loop before Lisa Eliason and Debbie Scheel showed up.

The path around the lake is exactly one mile long. We did five loops together, and then Lisa had to leave. Debbie stayed to do two more, and those were the fastest of the bunch. I would then do two additional lake loops before heading back home.

But those two were much slower. And the final four were slower still. My Achilles was hurting badly, but I'm not entirely sure whether that's the cause or the effect of the slow pace. I hadn't felt it at all for the first twelve.

I'm going to have to do something about this pain thing.

Zero Dark Thirty, the Run

It's necessary to clarify the post title. We're not talking about Zero Dark Thirty, the Book, or Zero Dark Thirty, the Movie. No, this is Zero Dark Thirty, the Run. If I understand the term correctly, a Zero Dark Thirty Run is any run that occurs extra-early in the morning. Brian Rosenstock uses the name for the runs he organizes in Brunswick on Tuesday and Thursday early mornings.

Did I say early? How does 4:30 A.M. sound? I joined the group for the first time today, sort of on a whim. Whilst preparing to run from home (which is rare these days since I usually run when I get to work), I found myself exchanging Facebook messages with Patti Tomisello at about 4:10. She informed me that she was about to meet up with the group when I wondered what in the world she was doing up. I wound up running towards Brunswick Lake and almost literally bumping into the Zero Dark group as they came towards me in the early morning darkness.

Today's group consisted of Brian, Patti, Caitlin Oblander and about six women that I didn't know. We moved at a brisk pace up and down route 303, and then did several Brunsick Lake loops at an even brisker pace.

For my part, it was good to be able to keep up, especially after those last couple days of stinker-type runs. Once again, taking a vitamin I pill the night before helped.

TW3

TW3 is the abbreviated name of an old TV show called, That Was The Week That Was.  It was a 1960's funny show about the news, not too dissimilar to the Daily Show and SNL's Weekend Update.

Since this blog is about my running, I suppose I ought to explain a bit further. Yes, I had a pretty good week of running: a couple ten-milers mid-week, and then eleven in Brecksville yesterday and thirteen at Hinckley today. So I'm getting the miles in. The best part is that my pace is also generally improving. I now average around nine-ish, and sometimes I can run somewhat, though not a lot, faster than that.

Although it was a good solid week by modern standards, I still have a ways to go.

BW50K, and Some Potential Subtitles

The main start of the BW50K.      John McCarroll photo

I ran the fifth annual Buckeye Woods 50K on Sunday, November 30, 2014. For the title of this post, I had planned to also add a subtitle. But then I started to come up with too many. So instead I decided to list them all here in the body of the post.

Here they are, in absolutely no particular order, along with explanations...

 

Subtitle 1: Falling for the Course

I double-dog-dared myself to fall when I told Ron Ross that I most likely had run this course more than any other person on the planet, and that I had never fallen, even once. The reason I believe I hold this distinction (most runs, not not falling) is that I've run all four previous BW50K's, and also several training runs. So guess what? I fell on the very next loop. It was right where we never expect to fall, but so many of us do. I'm talking about the section where we turn onto the pine path out and back section. Yes, there are roots under those pine needles. And then I fell once again on the last loop, just for good measure. Nothing was broken either time. Except my pride, of course.

One of the early loops with John Pavlick and his daughter Katie.
I don't know the doggy's name. Photo by John McCarroll

Subtitle 2: I am the Reason I Could Run at all

Yes, the reason is I. Ibuprofen, that is. It's sometimes referred to (by runners, of course) as Vitamin I. I take some on occasion, trying hard to not ingest more than three or four tablets during a week's time. And I almost never take even so much as one before or during a run. But what with all my recent problems, including pain in both feet these days, I took a couple I's the previous day, and also some today before and during the run. And yes, I think that was a major factor in being able to run at all this day.


Subtitle 3: We Almost Cancelled it

Having made the promise that the weather was guaranteed or your money (it's free) back, new RD(she took over from I founded and directed the race for four years) Suzanne Pokorny and I almost cancelled the race. It was 61 degrees, for Pete's sake. The weather most definitely did not cooperate for this event for the past years. I wanted to announce that today's run would still be held, even if the weather's nice. Which it was. We did apologize to anyone who would listen,


Subtitle 4: A Timely Start

About eight of us took the 7:00 am early start option. Early starts are generally supposed to be for folks who may need extra time to complete the course. While that really wasn't a concern for some of use, it was for others. Including me.


Subtitle 5: Not the PW

There wasn't any kind of cutoff, and with the shape I was in, I really didn't have a time goal. My 50K Personal Worst time of 6:30 (at Buckeye Trail about 12 years ago) did loom however. After averaging roughly ten minutes a mile for my first three loops, I actually picked it up for the fourth. It helped to have Renee Harden as a companion for that one. She had won the 25K by averaging about 7:10 per mile, and then did a cooldown 5 miles at a somewhat slower 9:30 pace with me. Then it was time to gather my wits and change my shoes for the final ten miles. I knew they'd be slow, and of course they were - something on the order of 12 minutes per mile. I was extremely lucky to have two companions for these laps as well, however: Michelle Wolff and Maureen Oblander. We completed the fifth lap and began our sixth in 4:59. I suddenly realized that a goal of sub-six hours had been thrust upon me; I had an hour to run these final five. Looking at my watch with about a mile to go, I mentioned to Maureen and Michelle that we could do it, but we'd need to book. And book we did. I pulled ahead for that final sprint (such as it was), but all three of us made it in 5:59.


Subtitle 6: It Didn't Kill Me

Of course I was tired and sore. And of course my injuries hurt. But I remained vertical, and as of a couple days afterwards, I remain away from the morgue.

Yes, it really was warm out there. This was somewhere in the middle of the run.
That's Caitlin Oblander, on the way to her first ultra, with me.  Photo by John McCarroll