We know what you're thinking: Thirty-Nine and Rain are two words that don't belong in the same sentence together. Or maybe you're thinking that it's not two words, it's three. No, four. But if you're like me, you're brain-dead, and not thinking much at all. Even if your brain is out of commission, however, you do still know, deep in your bones, that Thirty-Nine and Rain is an abomination.
Abomination or not, I find myself driving down to Medina in the driving, cold rain. The Medina Half-Marathon course run - something we do about once a month - is at 7:30, but needing a long run, I am planning to arrive at 6:00 for the extras. Except when I experience the Thirty-Nine and Rain. That's when, five minutes into my drive, I turn around and go home.
I run six lousy miles on the mill, turn on the tv weather to learn that the rain is moving out, extract myself from the mill and the house, and make the drive.
The rain has indeed stopped, as I run the course with Rachel Daw, Kelly Parker, Michelle Daum, Tim Pepe, and a few others. Thirty-Nine and no rain is exceedingly much better than Thirty-Nine and Rain. We manage to not get lost (a challenge for some of us), and complete the run.
It turns out to be a pretty good day, after all.
Saturday, January 25, 2020
Sunday, January 19, 2020
70
No, he's not quite there in years yet. But he has been putting in some 70-mile weeks.
A few came at the end of December in the weeks leading up to achieving 3,000 miles for the year, and also training for the Brunswick Marathon. Another came unexpectedly last week, when he only managed 17 miles during Saturday's towpath run, and then had to run 18 at Hinckley the very next day in order to be able to say he put in a long one. Tallahassee is still looming, you see.
Would it happen again this week? It started off fairly well, with a couple runs with Michelle Wolff. But as the weather finally turned January, he took the mill.
The mill is nice and warm and dry, he thinks. He can catch up on Game of Thrones, which he's watching for the second go-around now that he has time to spare. He won't have to plow his way through the elements whilst on the mill, he thinks. Maybe the runs can be of higher than average quality.
Things don't quite work out the way he'd hoped, however. After two completely awful mill runs, he's climbing the walls. Even though the weather's still bad, he tries to make the drive to Hinckley to join his friends. Alas. The driving, even on the main roads, is treacherous, so he returns home to get his run in there.
That run is as awful in its own way as the mill runs had been. Cold wind and poor footing does not a good run make. He wisely calls it quits and winds up with only 59 miles for the week.
What a slug he is.
A few came at the end of December in the weeks leading up to achieving 3,000 miles for the year, and also training for the Brunswick Marathon. Another came unexpectedly last week, when he only managed 17 miles during Saturday's towpath run, and then had to run 18 at Hinckley the very next day in order to be able to say he put in a long one. Tallahassee is still looming, you see.
Would it happen again this week? It started off fairly well, with a couple runs with Michelle Wolff. But as the weather finally turned January, he took the mill.
The mill is nice and warm and dry, he thinks. He can catch up on Game of Thrones, which he's watching for the second go-around now that he has time to spare. He won't have to plow his way through the elements whilst on the mill, he thinks. Maybe the runs can be of higher than average quality.
Things don't quite work out the way he'd hoped, however. After two completely awful mill runs, he's climbing the walls. Even though the weather's still bad, he tries to make the drive to Hinckley to join his friends. Alas. The driving, even on the main roads, is treacherous, so he returns home to get his run in there.
That run is as awful in its own way as the mill runs had been. Cold wind and poor footing does not a good run make. He wisely calls it quits and winds up with only 59 miles for the week.
What a slug he is.
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| I like the display, especially because it doesn't include speed ;) |
Friday, January 10, 2020
Busted
"Is there something you're not telling me," asks wife and faithful running spouse Debbie? "Why, no," says innocent-looking Dan. But he's secretly wondering what he did wrong this time. "Were you trying to pull a fast one, and sign up for the Tallahassee Marathon?" "I was only looking at it," says Dan, Guiltily. He determines that he must have left the marathon website open in a browser window. Need to be more careful, he thinks.
But he can't help himself. When he will be away from home, it's completely natural to look for running events in that area, isn't it? And to consider another marathon so soon after that last debacle? Pure foolishness.
So did he sign up, you ask? No, because there is no longer any financial incentive to register early. Dan can wait until a few days prior. Will he sign up? That's another question.
He definitely has been running. Now retired, he has lost at least one of his many usual excuses: having enough time. In fact, he often sleeps in and begins his runs at 6:00 am, rather than 4:30. But yesterday he had to start early to run with longtime running partner Michelle Wolff.
We will see how this weekend's long run goes, he thinks.
But he can't help himself. When he will be away from home, it's completely natural to look for running events in that area, isn't it? And to consider another marathon so soon after that last debacle? Pure foolishness.
So did he sign up, you ask? No, because there is no longer any financial incentive to register early. Dan can wait until a few days prior. Will he sign up? That's another question.
He definitely has been running. Now retired, he has lost at least one of his many usual excuses: having enough time. In fact, he often sleeps in and begins his runs at 6:00 am, rather than 4:30. But yesterday he had to start early to run with longtime running partner Michelle Wolff.
We will see how this weekend's long run goes, he thinks.
Thursday, January 02, 2020
The Brunswick Marathon, January 1, 2020
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| The gang at the start photo: Kelly Parker |
Even though I'll probably pay no matter what, I wise up and ease up and rejoin Kelly and Larry. Maybe Frank will also come back to us. Yeah, except that it's Frank, and Frank doesn't do that.
Three 6.55 mile laps into the four-loop Brunswick Marathon course, it's getting warmer, and eastbound sections like this one are just fine. The ice and snow around Brunswick High School and through Hopkins Park have been treacherous. But as far as I can tell, all twenty-five or so of us have managed to remain vertical. This is important to me since it's my race, and I wouldn't want to lose anyone. Runners who wind up with broken bones or fractured skulls tend to not return to run the same events in the future.
Said ice and snow have taken a lot out of me, however. All that slipping, sliding, picking up of feet, short baby steps over time and distance have made it tough. And then there's the wind. It was in the twenties at the start, and now it's in the thirties. But the west wind is strong, and those westbound parts of the run have been pretty brutal. Okay, enough excuses.
Larry finishes that third lap strong, but I'm not too far behind. He surprises me by announcing that he has to leave; I'd thought that he was in for the whole shebang. Kelly, tapering for Disney, is done as well. Now I'm alone as I begin my fourth lap. Frank is up there somewhere but is nowhere to be seen. I do spot a few of the other folks. It's been fun to reverse direction every loop and see the other runners on the course.
Last year I finished in 4:18. That's a slow marathon time for me, even now that I'm in my elder years. This year, I've been on about that pace, but I know my fourth loop will be a struggle.
It is. I slow to a shuffle and cross the finish line in 4:37. Frank beat that course record and established the new one at 4:16. All in all, seven intrepid runners managed to complete the entire marathon. Besides Larry and Kelly, a bunch of others also participated.
Good way to start the year.
Tuesday, December 31, 2019
3,000
The sleet is coming down sideways, and I don't like it. I never enjoy cold rain or sleet. But at least I don't have far to go: three miles will put me over the top, and I think I can manage that.
It's December 31, and I needed these three miles to get to 3,000 for the year. In my previous post, I talk about being a numbers (read: anal-retentive) type. I guess I am. Now it's time to think about 2020: a new year and a new decade.
But one more thing about 2019. Those 3,000 miles were staggeringly slow. A full minute per mile slower than 2018. And THAT was slow as well.
So now I have my goal for 2020 and beyond: run faster!
It's December 31, and I needed these three miles to get to 3,000 for the year. In my previous post, I talk about being a numbers (read: anal-retentive) type. I guess I am. Now it's time to think about 2020: a new year and a new decade.
But one more thing about 2019. Those 3,000 miles were staggeringly slow. A full minute per mile slower than 2018. And THAT was slow as well.
So now I have my goal for 2020 and beyond: run faster!
Wednesday, December 25, 2019
Another Reason I'm Running So Much
Yes, the Brunswick Marathon is looming. But there's also this:
I've always been a numbers guy, and that makes me a little anal-retentive. If you've read other posts in this blog, none of this will surprise you.
Upon returning from our trip, I realized that to get up to 3,000 miles for the year, I'd need to average about ten a day for the final two weeks. Challenge accepted. I think.
So far, so decent. Here are the stats as of today.
I've always been a numbers guy, and that makes me a little anal-retentive. If you've read other posts in this blog, none of this will surprise you.
Upon returning from our trip, I realized that to get up to 3,000 miles for the year, I'd need to average about ten a day for the final two weeks. Challenge accepted. I think.
So far, so decent. Here are the stats as of today.
24 on the 25th
The sky is pink and orange and blue. The beauty of it is fairly distracting, and distraction is what I need right about now. I'm starting my fourth six-mile out-n-back lap on the Lester Rail Trail, and my friends Michelle and Andy Wolff, having joined me for lap 3, are on their way home. I'm a little tired at the moment because:
1) I started running a bit before four, and it's now around seven-twenty
2) 24 miles is a fur piece - much longer than I've run for quite some time
3) I have been running a lot lately, and it's possible (nay, probable) that all the mileage (18 and 11 over the weekend, and 10 yesterday) is taking its terrible toll
4) I'm sure there are a bunch of other reasons, but my rattled brain can't think of them right now
With this morning light, I can now see where I'm going, Not that sight is so very important on a course where you just run back or forth. The trees are all decorated with heavy frost, and their white tint seems appropriate for this Christmas Day run. So do the patches of ice and crunchy snow along the way. Those did surprise me though; besides yesterday's frozen fog, we've had several other warm days. I decide not to think too hard about this.
Yes, it's Christmas. What better way to celebrate than to do this 24-miler? And hey, I've got the Brunswick Marathon coming up in a week, and I've got to be able to run that far.
But now I'm going slower and slower. With just a couple left to go, my shuffle turns into and ultra-slow shuffle. And then I slow down some more.
That's okay. I do manage to shuffle on back to the car, and then I'm done. Done done.
Merry Christmas!
Saturday, December 14, 2019
Running in Israel and Jordan
Tel Aviv
Not much time. But in my quest to run at every location, I need to get out and do something. Anything. All I can manage is to run around the block, which is decent sized, for a grand total of one and three-quarters miles. It’s all tall buildings and expressway overpasses. This is all too bad, since there may have been some nice running along the seashore. The seashore that I couldn’t get to.
Haifa
This time I am indeed able to get to the seashore. It’s right outside the hotel you see, and there’s a nifty bike trail. For two different runs, I go north and south about as far as the trail will take me, which is 7-ish miles one day and 5-ish the next. I don’t know how the running will be the rest of the trip, but this here is pretty darn good.
Jerusalem
After an orientation run, I think I’ve learnt where to go. We’re here for four nights, and I plan to run each day if possible. This day I do get to a small park that’s near the hotel, but the paths are all curvey and not entirely runnable. Okay, now where to go? Back to the hotel, which seems surrounded by busy streets and freeways, and out the other end of the complex. I’m on a busy road that isn’t too very busy due to Shabbat and I turn into the Hebrew University area. The running here is great – long roads in park-like settings and no traffic. I get nearly two hours in this time, but my Garmin only registers 8 miles. I think there’s something wrong with it (not really). I get a couple other slow easy runs in, and manage to get out each of the four mornings.
Amman
We’re only spending one night here, and as usual, I don’t have much time. This will be yet another orientation/exploration run. I find a) a parklike boulevard that’s not as long as I’d hoped, b) another cultural center that’s okay to circumnavigate, c) every taxi (and that’s all there are on the roads at 5:00 AM) wants to pull over to give me a ride, and d) the call to prayer.
Petra
I can see for miles and miles. Villages are lit up like groupings of jewels in the vast dark desert. They’re interspersed with the mountains that are nearly invisible in the darkness. I hear the 5:00 AM call to prayer coming from several of them. After beginning my run at a high point, I travel down – way down – and eventually wind up in one of said villages. Of course it’s bigger than it looked from afar, and I don’t want to get lost, so I just turn back. Until this point, there had been only the one road.
Now the moon is setting in the west, the direction of the villages I’d been admiring. The sky is getting lighter, and now I can see the distant mountains and desert floor better.
The run, and the one the following day were not great, or even good. But they sure are memorable, nonetheless.
Dead Sea
I hadn’t made it to ten miles yet. Today, my last on this trip, would be the day. I turn North out of the Movenpick and run on the service road (for resorts and stuff) that parallels the four-lane that parallels the Dead Sea. The street lighting is good, and there’s almost no traffic on this road.
I encounter a pack of wild, or at least loose dogs. I keep my distance, but I do need to yell at them a bit. At times I stay in the playpen area of the sidewalk. Yes, it’s barricaded in, for reasons that I don’t quite understand. Other times I’m back on the road.
The full moon is setting over the Dead Sea. It’s surreal. I run about three miles and notice that the service drive ends. I figure it’s time to turn back. I later learn that this is exactly as far North as the Dead Sea itself goes. It’s beginning to get light as I pass the Movenpick and keep going South.
There’s a lot of construction here, because heaven knows you can’t have too many Dead Sea Resorts. I turn back and stop in the room to let Debbie know that I’ll be later than planned. But I simply have to get those ten miles in. She is not amused.
I finish up, successfully getting those miles in. Finally.
Not much time. But in my quest to run at every location, I need to get out and do something. Anything. All I can manage is to run around the block, which is decent sized, for a grand total of one and three-quarters miles. It’s all tall buildings and expressway overpasses. This is all too bad, since there may have been some nice running along the seashore. The seashore that I couldn’t get to.
Haifa
This time I am indeed able to get to the seashore. It’s right outside the hotel you see, and there’s a nifty bike trail. For two different runs, I go north and south about as far as the trail will take me, which is 7-ish miles one day and 5-ish the next. I don’t know how the running will be the rest of the trip, but this here is pretty darn good.
Jerusalem
After an orientation run, I think I’ve learnt where to go. We’re here for four nights, and I plan to run each day if possible. This day I do get to a small park that’s near the hotel, but the paths are all curvey and not entirely runnable. Okay, now where to go? Back to the hotel, which seems surrounded by busy streets and freeways, and out the other end of the complex. I’m on a busy road that isn’t too very busy due to Shabbat and I turn into the Hebrew University area. The running here is great – long roads in park-like settings and no traffic. I get nearly two hours in this time, but my Garmin only registers 8 miles. I think there’s something wrong with it (not really). I get a couple other slow easy runs in, and manage to get out each of the four mornings.
Amman
We’re only spending one night here, and as usual, I don’t have much time. This will be yet another orientation/exploration run. I find a) a parklike boulevard that’s not as long as I’d hoped, b) another cultural center that’s okay to circumnavigate, c) every taxi (and that’s all there are on the roads at 5:00 AM) wants to pull over to give me a ride, and d) the call to prayer.
Petra
I can see for miles and miles. Villages are lit up like groupings of jewels in the vast dark desert. They’re interspersed with the mountains that are nearly invisible in the darkness. I hear the 5:00 AM call to prayer coming from several of them. After beginning my run at a high point, I travel down – way down – and eventually wind up in one of said villages. Of course it’s bigger than it looked from afar, and I don’t want to get lost, so I just turn back. Until this point, there had been only the one road.
Now the moon is setting in the west, the direction of the villages I’d been admiring. The sky is getting lighter, and now I can see the distant mountains and desert floor better.
The run, and the one the following day were not great, or even good. But they sure are memorable, nonetheless.
Dead Sea
I hadn’t made it to ten miles yet. Today, my last on this trip, would be the day. I turn North out of the Movenpick and run on the service road (for resorts and stuff) that parallels the four-lane that parallels the Dead Sea. The street lighting is good, and there’s almost no traffic on this road.
I encounter a pack of wild, or at least loose dogs. I keep my distance, but I do need to yell at them a bit. At times I stay in the playpen area of the sidewalk. Yes, it’s barricaded in, for reasons that I don’t quite understand. Other times I’m back on the road.
The full moon is setting over the Dead Sea. It’s surreal. I run about three miles and notice that the service drive ends. I figure it’s time to turn back. I later learn that this is exactly as far North as the Dead Sea itself goes. It’s beginning to get light as I pass the Movenpick and keep going South.
There’s a lot of construction here, because heaven knows you can’t have too many Dead Sea Resorts. I turn back and stop in the room to let Debbie know that I’ll be later than planned. But I simply have to get those ten miles in. She is not amused.
I finish up, successfully getting those miles in. Finally.
Friday, December 13, 2019
My week of ~Running~ if you can call it that
This will be in
backward order in an attempt to make it feel better. Maybe we’ll
even have a not-unhappy ending.
Sunday: It’s the
Buckeye Woods 25K/50K, and I have
to go for it. Due to travel constraints, going for it today means
starting early, getting two five-mile loops done, then doing one more
with the main group as they begin their own journey at 7:30 AM. For
the math-challenged, that, along with the extra mile, only adds up to
25K. This is my first departure from the 50K distance at this race
(I’ve done nine straight, plus a summer one), but starting the run
at 3 instead of 5 just didn’t appeal. Another thing that didn’t
appeal was the weather: 37F and rain; not my favorite conditions. But
I make
it (in poor fashion), and I believe the RDs will give me credit for
that. It helps to know people.
Saturday:
My friends Rita Cognion and
George Ziga are in town, so Joe Salwan and I meet them in Peninsula
for a nice little run on the towpath. It is good to catch up with
them. And it’s always nice to run in our lovely national park.
Friday:
It’s Black Friday, and I have to work. I usually do work on this
day to save vacation days. I am able to work from home, so it’s not
so bad. Harold Dravenstott and Michelle Wolff are heading to Wooster
to join in a group run they (Vertical Runner Wooster) call a Two-Hour
Tryptophan Run. I start work at 3:30 AM, get a few hours in, then
drive down to join the fun. And it truly is fun, as I run with
Michelle, Harold, Debbie Horn and Michelle Daum. It’s as many
2-mile loops you can do in two hours, and then there are prizes based
on that. I don’t get any prizes, but I’m glad I took part.
Thursday:
It’s Turkey Day, time for a Turkey Trot. It’s been years since
I’ve done one. This time it’s the Turkey Burner 5K in Hinckley. I
follow Michelle Daum for the loop around the lake, and
Harold D. follows me. I’m
not extremely fast these days, but it feels good to move this
un-slowly for a bit. And
hey, I get a t-shirt and even an age group award medal.
Wednesday:
I can’t get myself going at all. No run today.
Tuesday:
I hit the track, meeting my co-worker and friend Colleen DeVito. We
often meet at the track before work, but this may be one of the last
times. On other occasions, I’ll often do some speedwork after
running some with Colleen. Today I do not. I’m still tired from
Sunday’s race.
Monday:
I get a few miles in, but it’s not pretty. I’m still tired from
Sunday’s race.
Sunday, November 24, 2019
2019 Fall Classic Half Marathon and 5K
Always go before you go.
I usually do, and I sorta did this time. Except that it wasn't quite late enough. I was thinking about all the water and coffee in my belly and bladder as I was lined up at the start and began to run. I decided to remedy the situation by using the porta-john at about mile four. Forty seconds later, I was back on the run again, feeling more comfortable.
The goal was to beat the 1:51 I ran at Made in America, and also break the 1:50 "barrier." Running a half in the one-forties shouldn't be hard, should it?
The Fall Classic, in its 44th year, truly is one. I've done it a dozen or so times, and it never gets old. It's a double out-and-back loop in Cleveland Metroparks' Mill Stream Run Reservation. Today it was cool and sublime, even serene. It's also fun to see the other runners coming and going.
Coming through half-way at about 54 minutes and change, I knew I was cutting it close. No worries though, I'll just pick up the pace during the final miles, thought I.
By the time there were only a couple miles to go, I was indeed picking up the pace... I thought. Upon examination of the Garmin data, it now appears that I was only maintaining the 8:20-ish pace that I'd been doing all along. It only felt faster.
My finish time was 1:50:17 (or, if you prefer - as I do - 1:49:77), good for third in my ancient age group. It's okay in that it's faster than my previous half, but it's not in the 1:40s. I'm still trying to figure out who the other two old guys are.
And those extra forty seconds I mentioned? Don't even go there. Instead, go before you go.
I usually do, and I sorta did this time. Except that it wasn't quite late enough. I was thinking about all the water and coffee in my belly and bladder as I was lined up at the start and began to run. I decided to remedy the situation by using the porta-john at about mile four. Forty seconds later, I was back on the run again, feeling more comfortable.
The goal was to beat the 1:51 I ran at Made in America, and also break the 1:50 "barrier." Running a half in the one-forties shouldn't be hard, should it?
The Fall Classic, in its 44th year, truly is one. I've done it a dozen or so times, and it never gets old. It's a double out-and-back loop in Cleveland Metroparks' Mill Stream Run Reservation. Today it was cool and sublime, even serene. It's also fun to see the other runners coming and going.
Coming through half-way at about 54 minutes and change, I knew I was cutting it close. No worries though, I'll just pick up the pace during the final miles, thought I.
By the time there were only a couple miles to go, I was indeed picking up the pace... I thought. Upon examination of the Garmin data, it now appears that I was only maintaining the 8:20-ish pace that I'd been doing all along. It only felt faster.
My finish time was 1:50:17 (or, if you prefer - as I do - 1:49:77), good for third in my ancient age group. It's okay in that it's faster than my previous half, but it's not in the 1:40s. I'm still trying to figure out who the other two old guys are.
And those extra forty seconds I mentioned? Don't even go there. Instead, go before you go.
Sunday, November 10, 2019
2019 Made in America 1/2 Marathon
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| The start - I'm in the middle |
The first four miles are on hilly roads, then we turn onto the towpath for the flat remainder. I talk to a couple runners around me, but this relatively small field spreads out fairly quickly.
I am running just slightly better than 8:30 per mile pace. Doing the math (and this is complicated, but I've got nothing else to think about), I determine that I've got to pick up the pace just a little to beat last year's time of 1:50 and change. Maybe a fast final 5K will do it. Yeah, that's the ticket.
Regular readers of this blog may find this ambition - to beat last year's time - just a little familiar. Just last week at the Veteran's Marathon, I had been trying to better my 2018 result, but missed by a minute. One thing I am sure of: that this won't happen again. No, that is not possible.
Eight and a half miles in, I catch up with Jennifer. She has had some problems, but I convince her to run with me. It's good to have the company, and I think we're both benefiting. I also want to pick up the pace.
I (we) do. A little. Mile ten goes by in a little under 1:25 (editor's note: Dan used to complete entire 1/2 marathons under 1:25), and mile 12 in 1:41 and change. Now I really have to pick it up. Can I do it? Come in at least as fast as last year?
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| Crossing the finish line in 1:51 |
Nope. Close - within a half-minute (told you it wouldn't be a minute) - but no cigar. My 1:51 is still okay enough to beat all the geezers in my ancient age group, Never mind that Ron Legg, who's in an even older AG, beat me by a mile. Or two.
So it was a fun race and another pretty good result. Now I'm ready for whatever is next. Maybe a warm bath.
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| Jennifer Ridgeway and I |
Sunday, November 03, 2019
2019 InFirst Bank Veteran's Marathon
It's 8:53 AM EDT and I amble out of the car where I'd been reading for a half-hour. I wait in line for the porta-potty, and by 8:56, I'm jogging over to the start. The start, you see, is at 9:00 AM, but since this is a small race, I didn't have to be there any earlier than this. I should also mention that the race cost me fifty bucks. I registered a little over a week ago, just before the price increase to sixty. Had I been earlier, I could have gotten in for twenty-six. These are some of the many reasons I love small races like this. Not to mention that they're friendlier and easier-going. I should also mention that I did have to drive three hours to get here in Black Lick, PA. In case you don't know where that is, it's close to Indiana, PA.
I loved this race last year, and I ran well here. 3:46 and change (a lot of change, by the way). Could I do it again?
The cannon goes off with a BOOM, and off I go. It's cool (about 40), but not as cold as forecast. The early miles go by easily. I'm running at about the same pace as last year. Will I be able to hold it?
The Ghost Town trail is just as scenic as it was last year. The race is out and back, and that's another simplicity thing that I like about it. I reach the half-way turn-around in 1:53. This is perfect. But last year I finished strong. Will I be able to once again?
Although the second-half has a slight downhill grade, the wind is now in my face. It's not awful, but it may be taking a bit of a toll. I find that I am now working harder to maintain that same pace. During the last couple of miles, I slow down just a tiny bit. It's not much, but it's enough to prevent me from exceeding last year's time.
This year it's 3:48; just over a minute slower than last year. I'm happy with it. Why couldn't I finish just a little stronger? The answer is blowin' in the wind.
Tuesday, October 29, 2019
This Morning at the Track
Editor's note: this is a guest post. Enjoy the 'different' perspective.
It happened at the Mayfield track. Creature of the morning
that I am, I like to get moving in the early darkness at the start of the day.
And this day, I had decided to make my way over to the track for a little
exercise. Just as I was getting started, something big came around the curve, and
was heading right at me! Imagine my surprise. It was in my lane; would it
swerve out of my way, or should I move?
Within seconds, I realized that it was one of those large
mammals they call ‘human beings.’ I’ve seen other ones here at the track, and I
usually keep my distance. But this one was coming way too close. I quickly
decided to raise my tail to try to warn it off. Maybe it would see the black
and white fur, and realize that I am not without weaponry.
It didn’t work. It lumbered toward me still. Now I could see
that this one had absolutely no fur on its head (how strange), and it was making an awful-looking, even scary face as it ran. It was also making scary grunting
noises between the heavy breathing.
Should I spray or should I run? Even though it surely would
have been fun to spray this thing, I decided that the risk of him falling over
me would be too great.
Raising my tail as I went, I scurried out of the way.
Ducking under the fence as I left the track area, I vowed to
get this guy with some spray next time. Fun awaits.
Wednesday, October 23, 2019
Up to Eleven
The movie, This is Spinal Tap made the phrase, "Up to eleven" a popular idiom. It seems the rock and roller character thought his music could be played louder because his amplifier volume dial went up to eleven as opposed to ten. It's become a fun phrase to indicate anything being exploited to its utmost limits, or even exceeding them.
And so it is with my training, in more ways than one. After a long, 24-mile Lester Rail Trail Trot on Saturday, after the usual Hinckley Hills on Sunday, after some slow and easy neighborhood jogging on Monday, and after treadmill speedwork followed with a later run alongside cross-country runner Jenny Hoffman ob Tuesday, it was time for a Wednesday track workout. Just getting out there once again felt like taking it up to eleven.
Then came my first (of ten) 800's. I was dizzy, and it didn't go well. I couldn't break four minutes, despite a fast finish. Should I give up? No, I managed to keep going. And things got better. My second one was in the three-fifties, and the rest were all under three-fifty.
Thus I felt better as I went on, and the thought occurred to me to take it up to eleven in my count of 800s. This would enable me to throw out the first one for the purpose of determining an average. But would I be able to do an eleventh one?
Nope. After all those other ones, I was exhausted, barely able to complete my cool-down. I had to leave it down at ten.
And so it is with my training, in more ways than one. After a long, 24-mile Lester Rail Trail Trot on Saturday, after the usual Hinckley Hills on Sunday, after some slow and easy neighborhood jogging on Monday, and after treadmill speedwork followed with a later run alongside cross-country runner Jenny Hoffman ob Tuesday, it was time for a Wednesday track workout. Just getting out there once again felt like taking it up to eleven.
Then came my first (of ten) 800's. I was dizzy, and it didn't go well. I couldn't break four minutes, despite a fast finish. Should I give up? No, I managed to keep going. And things got better. My second one was in the three-fifties, and the rest were all under three-fifty.
Thus I felt better as I went on, and the thought occurred to me to take it up to eleven in my count of 800s. This would enable me to throw out the first one for the purpose of determining an average. But would I be able to do an eleventh one?
Nope. After all those other ones, I was exhausted, barely able to complete my cool-down. I had to leave it down at ten.
Thursday, October 17, 2019
Be Like Eliud (and Brigid)
Second Sole Medina has had a series of running-related meetings
featuring various speakers. This past Wednesday the topic was how to
run faster, and the speaker was Renee Harden. Jim O’Connor asked
how to finish strong in a race. His example was Eliud Kipchoge’s
finishing kick during his barrier-busting sub-two-hour marathon this
past Saturday.
Notice that I was careful to
refer to it as ‘barrier-busting,’ and not ‘record-breaking,’
since it isn’t an official record. Regardless of its officialdom,
no one can argue that it was a remarkable, even historic achievement
to break such a barrier. A lot of us watched the run, and some of us
(guess who) even sat and viewed the whole thing (it wasn’t a bit
boring). Kipchoge’s finish was particularly electrifying. And we’re not even talking about the just-as-remarkable women's record set by Brigid Kosgei set at the Chicago Marathon the very next day.
We will leave the subject of Kipchoge’s shoes for another post.
Renee nailed it with her answer to Jim's question. How to finish strong as Kipchoge did? It's pure fitness, she said. I agree. You become as fit as you can be, avoid becoming injured, run your goal pace, and have just enough left to finish strong. I like this subject so much that I want to discuss it further.
Let's restrict this to marathons. It no-doubt also applies to half-marathons and ultras, but it's true in spades for the thons. Here's the thing: there is no feeling in the world like finishing strong in a marathon. Nothing. Nada.
Without diving too deep into the details, I would say that of my 112 marathons, perhaps between 20% and 30% had even to negative splits. This means the second half was close to the same or faster than the first half. These are the ones that feel good. The others decidedly do not. Some of those races with very negative splits probably shouldn't count, because the race was being run as a training exercise. So let's call it 15% to 25%. Therefore, something on the order of 75% of my marathons have been at best, arduous and difficult exercises in futility, and at worst, dreaded death marches.
Why do a thing that's not necessarily terribly good for you (running is, overdoing it with marathon running, not so much), is difficult, painful, frustrating, and has a 3 in 4 chance of turning out to be a miserable failure? That's easy. It's because, although those lows are indeed pretty darn low, the highs, those strong finishes, those even and negative splits, are so high, they're in the stratosphere. There are no other human experiences that can match them.
Let's say that I've convinced you. You want to run a marathon with even splits in which you finish strong and get that high of runners' highs. How do you do such a thing? We can start with Renee's answer: get fit. You won't be able to something in a marathon that you haven't trained for and therefore aren't capable of.
To add to that just a bit: don't get injured (Renee said this as well), run a lot, and run with intensity (you can follow a plan like Renee's or another one, but follow it!), determine, follow, and stay with your goal pace, and finally, train specifically for that final part of your race.
How to do that? Run the final 3-5 miles of a couple of your long runs at planned marathon pace. This isn't easy, but chances are that if you can't do this in training - at least once or twice during your training cycle, you won't be able to run the entire race - including the final miles - at that pace.
Don't give up. It may take 10,000 hours of training before you become proficient at marathoning. And just as important. Don't get injured.
Finally, remember Dan's mantra: run a lot.
Tuesday, October 15, 2019
Eighty percent of success is showing up
The credit for the post title quote ('Eighty percent of success is showing up') goes to Woody Allen. It not only applies to life, but also (you guessed it) to running as well. If you extend the thought just a bit, you get the corollary to the thought of my previous post - Failure to Launch.
In other words, you do need to show up. But then you start running, and then, you have to keep running. Until you're done. Occasionally, preferably very occasionally, it's okay to allow yourself to fail. But based on another famous quote - this one from NASA - it's more often best to consider failure as not a valid option.
Today is a case in point. Although I've done a smattering of speedwork since just before Akron, it hasn't been very good. Certainly not like the thing I had going in late August and early September - often 10 x 800 (a Yasso workout) in the very low 3:40s. And that is very good for me these days. But I wasn't entirely feeling it this morning. Could I complete anything in this direction whatsoever?
Well, first I had to accept that I may not be able to Yasso through these 800s quite so fast. Second, I still wanted to get through them - all of them. And third, I wanted them to be consistent. That's not asking for too much, is it?
The nice weather helped. I began by taking them one at a time. It also helps to not think very much about the entire elephant; just take the bites one by one. Guess what? It worked. I grew a bit more confident with each 800, and by the time I only had a few more to go, my completion assurance level, which started in the basement, was not at the top of the roof.
That said, the ten repeats were slightly slower than for those other workouts. This time the average 800 times was in the mid-3:40s. But I'll take them. Now, to do this a couple more times before my next thon.
In other words, you do need to show up. But then you start running, and then, you have to keep running. Until you're done. Occasionally, preferably very occasionally, it's okay to allow yourself to fail. But based on another famous quote - this one from NASA - it's more often best to consider failure as not a valid option.
Today is a case in point. Although I've done a smattering of speedwork since just before Akron, it hasn't been very good. Certainly not like the thing I had going in late August and early September - often 10 x 800 (a Yasso workout) in the very low 3:40s. And that is very good for me these days. But I wasn't entirely feeling it this morning. Could I complete anything in this direction whatsoever?
Well, first I had to accept that I may not be able to Yasso through these 800s quite so fast. Second, I still wanted to get through them - all of them. And third, I wanted them to be consistent. That's not asking for too much, is it?
The nice weather helped. I began by taking them one at a time. It also helps to not think very much about the entire elephant; just take the bites one by one. Guess what? It worked. I grew a bit more confident with each 800, and by the time I only had a few more to go, my completion assurance level, which started in the basement, was not at the top of the roof.
That said, the ten repeats were slightly slower than for those other workouts. This time the average 800 times was in the mid-3:40s. But I'll take them. Now, to do this a couple more times before my next thon.
Saturday, October 12, 2019
Failure to Launch
Seven days ago, I'd planned to run 18 to 24 miles, and I only did 7. I suppose it was too soon (one week) after the Akron Marathon. But those 7 miles were so darn slow that they felt like 20. And they took nearly as much time as 20 would have. This was a real stinker; a true failure to launch.
Six days ago, I'd planned to run a full 9 prior to the usual Hinckley Sunday morning 9-miler. This meant 3 3's before the 9 at 6. Guess what? I did it. So I did manage to eek out a long run for the weekend. I felt a little better.
Today would be different, thought I. Today I'd do a long run, and it would be pretty. In the beginning however, it was starting to look, taste, and smell like last week's stinker. But I somehow got myself moving this time. In fact, my pace got better as the run went on.
This is not to say that the run was at a good pace; it wasn't. But at least the last few (of the twenty) were.
Six days ago, I'd planned to run a full 9 prior to the usual Hinckley Sunday morning 9-miler. This meant 3 3's before the 9 at 6. Guess what? I did it. So I did manage to eek out a long run for the weekend. I felt a little better.
Today would be different, thought I. Today I'd do a long run, and it would be pretty. In the beginning however, it was starting to look, taste, and smell like last week's stinker. But I somehow got myself moving this time. In fact, my pace got better as the run went on.
This is not to say that the run was at a good pace; it wasn't. But at least the last few (of the twenty) were.
Friday, October 11, 2019
After Akron
The Akron Marathon didn't go as planned. What would? Heck, I don't know. But I gotta find something. A few choices:
Well, first there's the Towpath Marathon. I used to always love this race. The course is now changed, and runners won't even go into the national park anymore. Of course, that was the best part, but I'd be willing to give it another go. IF IT WASN'T THIS SUNDAY. I feel like the kid who hasn't attended class or studied all term, and now has to face a final exam.
The Columbus Marathon is next Sunday. It's another former fav of mine. But the problem is, IT'S NEXT SUNDAY. Too soon once again. I think.
Third choice is the Youngstown Marathon. It's in two weeks. But I looked at the elevation chart. Thar be mountains there. NOPE.
Fourth may be the charm. It's the Veteran's Marathon in central PA that I did last year. I thoroughly enjoyed that one and vowed to return. I prolly will, if I don't do any of the others.
Well, first there's the Towpath Marathon. I used to always love this race. The course is now changed, and runners won't even go into the national park anymore. Of course, that was the best part, but I'd be willing to give it another go. IF IT WASN'T THIS SUNDAY. I feel like the kid who hasn't attended class or studied all term, and now has to face a final exam.
The Columbus Marathon is next Sunday. It's another former fav of mine. But the problem is, IT'S NEXT SUNDAY. Too soon once again. I think.
Third choice is the Youngstown Marathon. It's in two weeks. But I looked at the elevation chart. Thar be mountains there. NOPE.
Fourth may be the charm. It's the Veteran's Marathon in central PA that I did last year. I thoroughly enjoyed that one and vowed to return. I prolly will, if I don't do any of the others.
Saturday, September 28, 2019
2019 Akron Marathon
It's about 5:20 AM, and Dan arrives at the starting area outside Stan Hywet Hall and Gardens. But this isn't the start of his day. He woke at 3:05, drove to Medina Route 18 Dunkin Donuts before 4:00, shifted to Andy and Michelle Wolff's car at about 4:12, arrived in downtown Akron in time to catch the 5:00 AM bus... and now he's here and ready to go. But the race isn't starting just yet. Dan will need to wait until 7:30 AM for that.
Don't worry. There's plenty for Dan to do. He walks around. Talks with Igor Skalsky. Bumps into Michelle and Andy several more times. Uses the porta-john. Uses the woods. Meets up with other Medina County Road Runners for the group photo in front of the mansion. He even jogs a tiny bit, even though he shouldn't; it's too warm for a warmup today.
Oh yes. The race. A couple raindrops are coming down as the race begins. Everyone appreciates the rainbow that's off to the right. Dan mentions to Beth Anne that she should arrange one for the start of the Medina Half Marathon. She says she will order one up.
It doesn't feel overly warm. Yet. Dan runs the first twelve miles in the 8:40 to 8:50 minutes per mile pace range. This is probably too fast for him, but he is beginning to think that perhaps Akron can be his 'A' race after all. Yes, he decides, Akron is now promoted. And he will try to hold this pace.
Dan enjoys this first half. But now it's time for the second. Going out one way, then the other one the 'Y' bridge, he's still doing fine. But it's beginning to get warm. Suddenly, when he's at about mile 15 or so a terrible thing happens: the sun comes out. It's now not just warm and humid; it's hot and humid.
It's not just hot and humid, he's going uphill. Uphill for what seems like mile after mile. It seems never-ending, and poor Dan is slowing down a little. It does end, finally, around mile 20. Dan's first-half joyfulness has now given way to grim determination. Without the determination.
Our runner is slowing, but even so, he's been passing a few folks. One of them is Doug Hradek. Doug is a good runner and he's in Dan's ancient age-group. This makes him an arch-rival. Another is training partner Theresa Wright.
Much of the final four miles are on the towpath that winds towards downtown Akron. It's nice, but Dan is now in full survival mode. His calf muscles begin to cramp up in the final mile and a half. He slows further - much further - to prevent a complete muscle-cramp tie-up. Theresa passes Dan in the final mile. Doug passes him in the final half-mile. Dan is now running so slow, he's in danger of being passed by walkers.
He looks at his watch. At 26 miles, it says, 3:59. He had been hoping for sub 3:50, then 3:55, then 3:59. Nope. Not gonna happen today. He finishes in the stadium with a final time of 4:05. He later learns that he's second to Doug in his ancient age group.
He meets up with friends Tim Pepe, Ladd Clifford, and Bob Pokorny, among others. The humid conditions were tough for everyone, and Ladd and Bob had trouble with cramping as well. After laying down on the baseball field for a while, Dan tries to get back up. EEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW! Every muscle in each of his legs cramps up and there is excruciating pain.
Tim helps Dan over to the medical tent, where he's stretched out and has four ice bags wrapped to his legs. He eventually recovers enough to find Michelle and Andy for the painful ride home.
All's well that end's well, they say. Is it possible the converse is also true?
Don't worry. There's plenty for Dan to do. He walks around. Talks with Igor Skalsky. Bumps into Michelle and Andy several more times. Uses the porta-john. Uses the woods. Meets up with other Medina County Road Runners for the group photo in front of the mansion. He even jogs a tiny bit, even though he shouldn't; it's too warm for a warmup today.
 |
| MCRR Friends photo by Syd |
Oh yes. The race. A couple raindrops are coming down as the race begins. Everyone appreciates the rainbow that's off to the right. Dan mentions to Beth Anne that she should arrange one for the start of the Medina Half Marathon. She says she will order one up.
It doesn't feel overly warm. Yet. Dan runs the first twelve miles in the 8:40 to 8:50 minutes per mile pace range. This is probably too fast for him, but he is beginning to think that perhaps Akron can be his 'A' race after all. Yes, he decides, Akron is now promoted. And he will try to hold this pace.
Dan enjoys this first half. But now it's time for the second. Going out one way, then the other one the 'Y' bridge, he's still doing fine. But it's beginning to get warm. Suddenly, when he's at about mile 15 or so a terrible thing happens: the sun comes out. It's now not just warm and humid; it's hot and humid.
It's not just hot and humid, he's going uphill. Uphill for what seems like mile after mile. It seems never-ending, and poor Dan is slowing down a little. It does end, finally, around mile 20. Dan's first-half joyfulness has now given way to grim determination. Without the determination.
Our runner is slowing, but even so, he's been passing a few folks. One of them is Doug Hradek. Doug is a good runner and he's in Dan's ancient age-group. This makes him an arch-rival. Another is training partner Theresa Wright.
Much of the final four miles are on the towpath that winds towards downtown Akron. It's nice, but Dan is now in full survival mode. His calf muscles begin to cramp up in the final mile and a half. He slows further - much further - to prevent a complete muscle-cramp tie-up. Theresa passes Dan in the final mile. Doug passes him in the final half-mile. Dan is now running so slow, he's in danger of being passed by walkers.
He looks at his watch. At 26 miles, it says, 3:59. He had been hoping for sub 3:50, then 3:55, then 3:59. Nope. Not gonna happen today. He finishes in the stadium with a final time of 4:05. He later learns that he's second to Doug in his ancient age group.
He meets up with friends Tim Pepe, Ladd Clifford, and Bob Pokorny, among others. The humid conditions were tough for everyone, and Ladd and Bob had trouble with cramping as well. After laying down on the baseball field for a while, Dan tries to get back up. EEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW! Every muscle in each of his legs cramps up and there is excruciating pain.
Tim helps Dan over to the medical tent, where he's stretched out and has four ice bags wrapped to his legs. He eventually recovers enough to find Michelle and Andy for the painful ride home.
All's well that end's well, they say. Is it possible the converse is also true?
Friday, September 20, 2019
Bonk
A bonk, by my definition, is an unexpected depletion of energy during a run. My perspective is that it is caused by a lack of nutrition and possibly hydration as well.
It's what happened to me today. Since returning home, I've been trying to get back into the swing of things, and I've sort of done so. Had some pretty darned good runs, and I've been fairly consistent and steady. Maybe the continuity of such running through today's planned long run was too much to ask.
Having had my Cape Breton Fiddlers Marathon canceled because of Hurricane Dorian threw me for a loop. Getting back in the saddle right away was a good thing. In the process, I also signed up for next Saturday's Akron Marathon. It wouldn't be an 'A' race for me, so I wanted to run an easy long one today - maybe 18 miles in about three hours. Piece of cake, no?
No. After about ten easy miles, half of them at the track, the wheels fell off. I barely made it home and only did 15 miles in those three hours.
Maybe I can make it up tomorrow. Or not.
It's what happened to me today. Since returning home, I've been trying to get back into the swing of things, and I've sort of done so. Had some pretty darned good runs, and I've been fairly consistent and steady. Maybe the continuity of such running through today's planned long run was too much to ask.
Having had my Cape Breton Fiddlers Marathon canceled because of Hurricane Dorian threw me for a loop. Getting back in the saddle right away was a good thing. In the process, I also signed up for next Saturday's Akron Marathon. It wouldn't be an 'A' race for me, so I wanted to run an easy long one today - maybe 18 miles in about three hours. Piece of cake, no?
No. After about ten easy miles, half of them at the track, the wheels fell off. I barely made it home and only did 15 miles in those three hours.
Maybe I can make it up tomorrow. Or not.
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