Two Terrible Tempo Tries = Foolish Fartlek

Now that I've been pain-free for a month or so, it sure would be nice, methinks, to add some quality. If I could.

I may have noted in the past that I have been doing speedwork: 1200 meter repeats - on the mill. But I don't do very good with them. I have this nasty habit of stepping off or holding on to the mill rails when things get tough. Even if I didn't do those things, mill running still isn't the same as the real thing.

So I have been trying to get outside more. It helps when the weather isn't downright terrible, and it really hasn't been so bad lately. The problem occurs when I combine outside running with any kind of quality. For this week's runs I tried on two occasions to get down to tempo pace. By my own definition, a tempo run is three or more consecutive sub-seven minute miles. If you guessed that I wasn't able to do so for these two runs, you'd be right. Since I did speed up and slow down at times, I called them fartlek runs. But even that's stretching things a bit.

And I know the reason why I am unable to do tempo runs anymore. I can't run three consecutive sub-seven minute miles because I can't run one consecutive seven-minute mile.

Brian

Runners are always much less concerned about revealing their age than non-runners. I suppose this has something to do with age group competition at running events. I therefore do not think that my long-time friend and running partner Brian Peacock will mind if I announce that it's his seventy-fifth birthday. In fact, Brian probably won't mind if I point out that 75 years is three-quarters of a century! I could go on...

His family asked friends to send any "Brian stories" they could come up with, so that they could put them together for his perusal (I'm sure this will happen at a party - I am sure it'll be a fun one. Wish I could be there.) Here are my Brian stories, written a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away:

.........

Excerpt from an article I wrote for Marathon & Beyond  (the Eccentricities of a Long Distance Runner):

…Speaking of shoes, here’s another case: Brian. My longtime friend runs as much as anyone and can certainly afford to purchase new running shoes. He doesn't in fact, buy any. How does he manage to train for and run marathons year in and year out without buying shoes? Simple. He accepts charity donations of everyone else’s old worn-out shoes. For his latest birthday party, he opened an aromatic box containing more than 20 pair of used running shoes. Such is the value placed on Brian’s participation in the Foxes and Hounds Great Lakes Relay Team. Brian tells me that the sizes of the donated shoes do not matter all that much to him. Lately he has been getting injured a bit more often and he’s actually wondering why.

Excerpt from an article I wrote for Marathon & Beyond  (Running’s Woodstock A Look Back at the 100th Boston Marathon):

…This was but a minor problem, however. The race and the entire weekend had been an unqualified success. Almost without exception, runners praised the event as something they would remember for the rest of their lives. This marathon, of course, was still 26 miles and thus not necessarily any easier than any other. One tired runner, hearing others gush about how great an event it was, exclaimed, “And the best part is, it’s over.” (Guess who that was.)

A story from the Great Lakes Relay in Michigan:

At one point, Brian was running and was about to hand off to me.  I decided to make the old guy sprint at the end of his run to tag me. It worked, getting a gasp out of him and a laugh from everyone else.  It just so happened that my next leg was also after one of Brian's.  This time I started slowly to give him a break. But some gratitude- instead of tagging my hand, he pulled down my shorts! This resulted in still bigger laughter from the onlookers.

Excerpt from my Book, The Long and Shorts of It:

Speaking of old age and cunning, on a later run I observed our friend Brian Peacock, who in turn surpasses me in both characteristics, employ a slightly more  direct technique: that of pushing Geoff toward some bushes before beginning The Sprint To The Finish.

It was while reflecting on these types of experiences that Brian first told me the story of the old bulls and the young bulls. Perhaps you've heard it before; it goes something like this:

There were two pastures divided by a fence with a gate. The higher one contained an old bull and a young bull; the other one had several very desirable and good-looking (to the bulls) cows. One day after the farmer left the gate between the pastures open, the young bull said, "Hey Old Bull, the gate to the cows is open! Let's run down there and smooch a few of them!" (Author's note: verbs other than smooch could possibly be substituted here, but since this is a family oriented publication...) The old bull then said, "Nope. Let's saunter on down there slowly and smooch the whole lot of them!"

I'm not sure exactly what this has to do with shoving Geoff in the bushes, but Brian can always come up with some kind of explanation.

Eighteen Good Miles

One of my many favorite episodes of Saturday Night Live features Steve Martin as Theodoric of York, Medieval Judge. After hours (well, minutes) of searching the web, I've satisfied myself that the video does not exist. But the transcript does, and there we can see where today's post title came from:

Theodoric of York: Wait a minute – perhaps she’s right. Maybe the King doesn’t have a monopoly on the truth. Maybe he should be judged by his peers. Oh! A jury! A jury of his peers. Of six good men! No wait! Eight good men! No!! Ten good men!! No, that’s not enough… 18 good men!! No, that’s TOO MANY. Let’s see… 11 good men! Wait! 13 good men! No… 11, 13, 11, 13… it doesn’t matter. Okay. But everyone should be tried by a jury of their peers and be equal before the law. And perhaps, every person should be free from cruel and unusual punishment. 

[ Theodoric takes a brief pause. ] 

Theodoric of York: Nah!!


I just love that - and the '18 good men' is what made me think of running 18 good miles today. Too bad it didn't happen. I did nine slow miles out on the roads, followed by a pit stop, followed by an inability to get myself back outside, followed by seven even lousier miles on the mill. So instead of 18 good miles, I did 16 bad ones.

Dan: Wait a minute - perhaps I couldn't run those miles today because my body needed an easier day. Maybe I'll have a good day another time, when I'm well rested. Maybe I should instead concentrate on doing six good miles!... No that's not enough... Maybe 20 good miles... No that's too many. Let's see... 11 good miles! Wait! 13 good miles! No... 11, 13, 11, 13... it doesn't matter. But everyone should only try to do what they're capable of, and no more. Every person should be free of cruel and unusual training.

(Dan takes a brief pause.)

Dan: Nah!!

By the way, one video that I was able to find is the companion skit, Theodoric of York, Medieval Barber. Check it out.

There's Speed, There's Strength, and Then...

...there's what I have. Which, of course, is nuthin.

Sorry about all the ... in the titles lately. I'll behave better. I promise.

The good news is that the knee pain is slowly subsiding. I don't know if it's something I was able to do for myself - like taking the Glucosamine, or doing even more stretching and strengthening - or if it's just something that had to run its course. Ain't that always the case? I do know that it definitely has helped to take it easy for the past couple months. Maybe half my miles have been on the mill, and most of the outdoor ones have been at an easy pace. Oh, and the mileage has been down as well; my last several weeks have seen between 50 and 60 miles.

Now, about that strength and speed, or lack thereof: I do try to pick up the mill pace sometimes, even doing 1200 meter repeats or tempo runs on occasion. These probably help a little, but they don't constitute real running. Today I tried to do a tempo run outside for a change, and could only manage a tiny bit better than eight minute pace. That's it for speed; it's as fast as I can go.

And as for strength, it ain't there neither. I simply cannot seem to run more than 13 to 15 miles without completely tuckering.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining about any of this; just stating the facts. Simply being able to run without pain is something to be eternally grateful for. May it continue for a long time to come.

Today's Run Began Terribly, and Then...

...it got progressively worse. But you knew I was going to say that. You knew that because of the famous, 'start slow, then ease off' mantra that so many runners follow or have heard of and follow.

The old knee is still improving, but only by fits and starts. I ran the Medina Half Marathon route with friends last Saturday without mishap, and I've been doing more and more on the mill. I'm even doing some speedwork and tempo runs on it.

There are only two problems with mill running: 1) it's not real running, and 2) it's too easy to step off or hold on. And I do number 2 all the time. Let me rephrase that. I hold on and step off the mill too often.

The one good thing about the mill, however, is that I don't have or get knee issues from it. It's only when I'm outside and on an uneven surface that I have problems. I think my knee just needs the smooth surface right now. Oh, and the mill does substitute for real runs fairly well when the weather's miserable outside. I guess that makes two good things.

Today's run began with 8 on the mill, and ended with a run outside on my 6-mile route. The mill run was actually half-way decent; the last 4 were at tempo pace. But no matter how good this run may have been, I still did too much holding on. I can't help myself.

Then came the outside part. I was a little tired after the first part, but otherwise okay. I started slow. Okay, I started extremely slow. After a third of a mile, I twisted my knee, giving me a sharp jolt of pain. I was only trying to negotiate the dark sidewalk, but this, apparently, is more uneven than the treadmill deck.

Occasionally you will hear a sports announcer say something to the effect that, 'the game was not as close as the score would indicate.' Today I did manage to keep going and finish my outside portion of the run. But my time? A new PW - 61:30 for the six miles. Don't worry. The run was much worse than the time would indicate.

It Has a Name

And the name is... Patellofemoral Pain Syndrome. It's also known as runner's knee. It's funny how putting a name to something changes the way we think about it.

I've had this pain on and off - mostly on - since last Thanksgiving. And I've had it before - about 25 years ago.

Doctor: Ever had this before?
Patient: Yes, a while back.
Doctor: Well, you have it again.

PFPS is characterized by clicking and pain due to misalignment of stuff in the kneecap. It's most painful going  down stairs and sometimes when running. Running is not bad until an uneven surface reaches up and attacks. The least little uphill or downhill can result in a very sudden and unexpected pain.

It's not too surprising, therefore, that my running, such as it was by the end of last year, is now totally down the tubes. I'm still trying to do some, but we're only talking 30-50 miles per week these days. And most of that is on the dreadmill. The mill doesn't hurt because it's as even a surface as there is. Once last week, 1/3 mile into a planned 11-mile run I stepped off the road and out of the blue experienced that sudden, awful pain. But I've had some other outdoor runs that weren't so bad - usually on weekends with friends (who humor me by letting me run and try to stay up with them).

I somehow have to get this thing under control. Maybe tomorrow I'll figure something out. Or maybe the next day.

I'm Mad as Hell, and I'm not Going to Take This Anymore!

The subject line comes from one of my all-time favorite movie scenes, that occurs in the movie, Network. If you haven't seen it, or even if you have, you should definitely take a look.

You may possibly be wondering why I'm mad as hell, and what I'm not going to take anymore. Okay, gotta come out with it. It's injuries. 

I am well aware that no one likes to read about injuries, and believe it or not, I don't like to write about them. Of course the worst of all is actually having an injury. So I will keep the actual injury details brief...

This time it's the old left knee. It hurt a little after a Thanksgiving Day training run on the Buckeye Woods course, and then much more during the BW50K itself (although I still managed to get through it). It wasn't too bad during the two weeks in Hawaii, but then got much worse during my first morning run upon my return.

I have been babying myself since then. Most runs have been on the mill, and speed and mileage are both way down. That's helped; the pain has mostly subsided. But it's not completely gone, and I'm scared to death that it may return.

Pain and suffering take the fun out of running. The only thing I fear more than pain is getting more out of shape than I am now.

That is why I have declared this the last injury. 2012 has indeed been the year of the injury for me, and good riddance to that. That's why I too am mad as hell, and that's what I am not going to take anymore!

The only question is how. I'll let you know when I figure that out.

Maui Meanderings

To the End.. almost
I am up at 2:30am. It's that whole jet lag / travel thing in spades. We'd only arrived and gotten to bed 3 1/2 hours beforehhand and that was after 23 hours of travel. But  I'm wide  awake - moreso after the Kona coffee - and out the door by 3:45.

I head south on the Wailea beachwalk. I never ran much here on previous trips, and now I remember why: it's very curvy and uneven. Kind of like trails as opposed to roads, but without the nice soft surface. But I'm committed, and I take this sidewalk to its end, past the Grand Wailea, the Four Seasons and the Fairmont, all the way to the end of the Wailea resort area.

Now I find that I can continue straight on a coastal road that was new to me. I am still going south, and this road takes me a couple more miles into Makena. I am enjoying the solitude of this quiet area- but of course everything is quiet at 4:30 am.

The road ends onto the main one, if you can call it that. I continue south past the last of the resorts of Makena. The  side of the road bike trail is now gone for good and the road itself becomes more and more narrow. And less straight. There are a few beach access areas, and a smattering of homes.

The turnaround is at the end of the road, just at the entrance to La Perouse Bay Park. My watch tells me that I've been running for one hour, ten minutes. This route used to be 6 miles. The earth really is getting smaller! I suppose that my route this day is a bit more circuitous than usual, so maybe I can call it 7 to this point. As I turn back it also occurs to me that anyone reaching this point with thoughts of circumnavigating eastern Maui would, about now, determine what a huge, 30-mile mistake they have made.

It's still dark as I head up all the small hills on the way back. It was on one of these where I had my famous collision with a bicyclist who was screaming down whilst I was running up in the darkness. That time (about 12 years ago), I wore a reflective vest that was no help since the biker had no light. This time I have a flashing light attached to the vest.

Just as I get over those thoughts, I hear some large animal thrashing about in the woods/scrub nearby. Kind’ve scary, but it seemed more afraid of me than the other way around. I couldn't figure out what in the world it could be... until the next day when Debbie and I saw some wild goats during our hike in the area. Who knew?

I make it back in 63 minutes; a bit better, but only a bit.

To the End, Really

This time I didn't turn around at the usual 6-mile point, but kept heading south on the road leading through the lava flow. I had done the usual 12 a couple times now, but this time it would be the whole enchilada. Picture that black asphalt road surrounded by desolate black lava almost as far as you can see - which isn't too far - in the early two morning pitch darkness. That road continues on another two miles before it really and truly ends at a trailhead parking lot. Debbie and I have hiked here, most recently a couple days ago.

If I was to go straight back, I'd only have 16, whereas my goal was 20 today. So I did some extra dipsy-doodle type loops in Makena on the way back. By the time I pulled up into the Marriott, I was moving pretty slow. But I got my 20.

Still More Meanderings

I finally saw the Southern Cross – at least I think so. Partially obscured by clouds, it was as low as you can go on the southern horizon. I still don't know why it's important for me to spot it, but it's somehow a good omen.

As I was watching the stars during those early morning runs, I also spotted six meteors one day, and three the next.

As it turned out, I ran every day on Maui, and the miles piled up. In those 14 days, I logged 164 very slow miles.

For more, take a gander at the Rita Cognion tried to kill me post.

And for more on the Maui trip in general, including some photos, click here.

Rita Cognion Tried to Kill Me

First it was Jarrett going up the hill... Rita and Sharyn wisely hung back, letting us guys battle it out. But then at the top, I unwisely waited for Rita as the other two peeled off to where their cars were parked. Jarrett and Sharyn would meet us for breakfast, but Rita and I had another mile to run.

at Beach Bums

And run we did. This final ninth mile of our point-to-point Sunday morning sojourn would get a wee bit competitive. Rita kept pulling ahead, but I generally managed to keep reeling her back in, most of the way. We came to our end point at Maalaea Harbor with a final downhill mile of 7:45. That's pretty darn fast for me these days, and it was far and away the fastest mile of the day.

The second time Rita tried to kill me was a few minutes later in the parking lot. The peer pressure got to me - I had to try to match her with three one-minute planks. I somehow met that challenge too. Barely.

I met up with Rita for a couple other runs as well. During one very early morning encounter, I had no sooner mentioned that I don't like to run on sidewalks in the dark, when she goes as far as to trip and fall on one, just to prove me right. So here was an instance of Rita trying to kill me by falling down herself. Incidentally, she bounced right back up, and was fine.

Even at that, Rita still wasn't through with me. After a Wednesday evening group run she tried to kill me by beer at Pizza Madness. Someone had to try to keep up with her.

And finally there was the Lahaina Pali hike. After shuttling the cars to have one at the start and the finish, she tried to kill both me and Debbie on that tough, extremely windy trail.

For more on Maui Meandering, click here.

And for more on the Maui trip in general, including some photos, click here.

Buckeye Woods 50K, or, I Hear That Train A-Coming Part III

Here comes Verrelle!
Photo by John McCarroll

Last time it was a real train. This time the train was called Verrelle Wyatt. Everybody knew he was fast. But this was ridiculous. He was running those six 5-mile loops around Buckeye Woods County Park as if possessed by demons. It didn't surprise me when he lapped me once. But dang if he wasn't coming up fast (very fast) behind me again as I was completing my fourth lap. It was Verrelle's sixth and final one.

I was fairly tired at the time. I'd begun to slow down more than I'd have liked at this point - 21 miles into the run. I'd been starting to wonder if 10 additional miles were feasible for me this day. But all those thoughts went out the window when I rounded the lake in the final 1/4 mile, looked back, and saw, approaching insanely fast, one Verrelle Wyatt. I just had to sprint. Being lapped twice would simply not be acceptable.

So sprint I did. This was to the cheers of the throng of spectators, which consisted of Dan DeRosha and one or two other folks. I actually managed to not get passed as I nearly collapsed at the aid station.

Somewhere in the middle - I look like I'm still okay at this point.
Photo by John McCarroll

Verrelle finished his 50K in a phenomenal 3:07. I had now run that time for 21 miles and still had another 10 to go. Those last two laps would prove to be much tougher. But on two more occasions I went back around the lake, around the Windy Circle of Doom, the Woods part of Buckeye Woods and back. Each lap got slower and slower. But I never stopped to walk.

I came to the finish in 4:57. That was good (or bad, depending on your perspective) for eighth place out of only 13 finishers. Not to mention the 47 starters. It was about 7 minutes slower than last year, which in turn was about 4 minutes slower than the year before. 

Now my knee is fairly well wrenched, and the rest of me is shot as well. I think I'll give up running for the rest of the (pick one: day, week, month, year, decade).

Note: the official results and story are at the event website.

Hot Coco 5K - Not Your Father's Race Report

No, it's not your father's race report. But it is your father-in-law's race report.

My son-in-law, Barry, trained for his first 5K by following the Couch-to-5K Running Plan. He asked me to run the race with him as he was completing his training. This plan has helped many a beginner through their first 5K run. And Barry followed it as much as possible. Fairly well in fact, until some life impacting events managed to get in the way. Things like Hurricane Sandy, and the birth of a second son, Vincent. Stuff like that.

But we had registered for the Hot Coco 5K in Cheshire, CT pretty early on, And a commitment is a commitment, right? Well... Barry didn't feel as well prepared as he'd have liked, and had been having some leg pain. I would have let him off, but Veronica wouldn't. She told him he had to go.

So we went. Debbie had been staying on to help with the newborn and now 2-year-old Malcolm. I was there for the weekend - to visit, but also to pick her up and bring her home.

I felt that a fairly large race like this would actually be pretty good for a beginner. There were over 600 runners in the 5K, and more for the kids run. It started and ended at a school, so there we could keep warm before and after the run. And there was plenty of food and - get this - hot coco!

Barry wanted to run the first mile, and then play it by ear after that. Sure enough, we did run that first hilly mile at an easy pace - about 11:30 or so. But that included the 40 seconds it took us just to get to the start.
Barry wanted to walk right after that. No problem. Except that his calf was bothering him again, and he said it actually hurt more to walk than to run.

I wanted to say, "well, then run," but I bit my tongue. Eventually we did do some running during that second mile. It probably wound up about half and half, and we came to mile two 24 minutes into the run. I mentioned that the winners had been done for quite some time, and Barry got a little depressed. I didn't mean for that to be the result.

But we did start running again just after the two-mile mark, which was at the start of a bike trail. The funny thing was that we started running faster and faster as we approached the finish. It was kind of fun to pass so many people on that trail. We turned onto the road just before the mile-3 mark, and I realized that we ran that mile in under 10 minutes. That's cooking!

We crossed the line in 35 minutes flat (so our real times were about 34:20). Here's a short video of our spectacular finish! (I've got the yellow jacket, and Barry is just ahead of me in gray.) We've already started talking about our next one.

Dan Horvath: Trail Runner Extraordinaire

That's meant to be a joke. I consider myself a particularly bad trail runner. But perhaps I shouldn't be so hard on myself. Looking on the positive, glass half-full side, I can actually do okay on trails, except when there are any rocks, roots, mud, streams, ravines, swamps, wildlife or anything else to get in the way. And yes I'm also aware that, slow as I am, there are some people who are even slower.

With Scissors now behind me, and the Buckeye Woods 50k just ahead, I ventured onto some trails this morning. It's nice that I don't have to go very far to get to some. The trouble is that the ones close by don't go very far. Behind the subdivision is a city park that consists of an old farm with a large field of weeds and tall grass. This is where I do some of my trail running - getting out there once a month at best. Hey, you don't become extraordinary unless you put the time in! (I actually do some other trails on occasion as well, but those I have to drive to.)

The city mows paths through the field, which would be otherwise almost completely un-runnable. The loop they've mowed most of the time is about a half-mile. I call it that, because it takes me about 5 minutes to get around it. That's usually it for this Trail Runner Extraordinaire - 1/2 mile loops in the grass. And it's probably short.

Today, after not being back there for a month or so, I noticed some additional paths. The city had mowed some newer areas to make use of more of the field. Now I could do longer loops - 7 plus minutes for about a 3/4 mile loop (probably short), and 8 and a half minutes for about a one mile loop (probably short).

I like these one mile trail loops much better than half mile ones. Maybe I'll even get out there more than once this month.

I Hear That Train A-Coming...Part II

This is Part II because Part I was a while back during a 10K.

Oh, the things that bounce around in your head during a run. Well, my head, anyway. Usually I can't figure out how they got in there to begin with. But this was a little different. Those things sometimes include music of various sorts. Today, for no immediately apparent reason, I started singing Folsom Prison Blues to myself.

But there was a reason. It's just that that reason registered itself in my consciousness about a minute after the song began. Yes, there really was a train coming. Isn't it funny that my subconscious knew it first? There was no danger of being hit by a speeding locomotive; I was safely on the road away from any tracks. But I was scared nonetheless.

The incident occurred 7 and a half miles into my 16-miler this morning. It was the first time I'd run this course in something like a year. Not that I haven't been putting in the miles; I did two tough 9-mile loops at Hinckley on Sunday, and then of course there was My Run With Scissors last week. The reason I haven't been doing this run is because until today, is that I haven't been able to get out the door early enough. I love those rural Medina County country roads, but not when there's even a little traffic. There's never all that much, but it is certainly reduced at 4 to 5 am compared with 6:30 to 7:30 am. The cars that I do see go very fast, and there isn't always a lot of room to get off to the side of the road. Today traffic wouldn't be a problem; I started at about 4:10 am.

And, sauntering at about a 9-minute pace, I was enjoying my run. Until that train started a-coming and made me a little afraid. The course crosses the tracks three times after going underneath a train bridge for a fourth. I had gone under the tracks and was now on the other side for the first of two times. Now maybe my irrational fear is becoming apparent: I fear getting "trapped" on the outer side of the tracks.

I understand how irrational it is. If I got caught:
a)  I could simply stop and wait the train out. They are never that long.
b) In this case I could also run back the way I had come, and go back under the train bridge.

But I also wanted to complete this course. What to do? Run fast, of course. Try to get past the next set of tracks before the train comes so as to be back on "my" side. It worked. I beat the train. And I finished the run as planned. Thank God for small victories.

The Phoenix

In my never-ending quest to find irony and meaning in the random coincidences of life and running, I herewith submit this little tale of my running here in Phoenix. And my running in general has seen a rebirth from the ashes of injury and failure.

Granted, I’d been starting to get better anyway. And granted, I did all right – better than expected, even - at the Run with Scissors Marathon the other day. What’s rising like a phoenix, however, is my overall fitness. I know this because I was actually able to run again the very next day after scissors. It was an easy five-miler from my downtown Phoenix hotel and over to a small park, and it wasn’t super fast, but I felt surprisingly well – sore, but well - much better than I’d have predicted.

For my second run in Phoenix, I ventured out a little further. It’s always a challenge to find the best places to run whilst on the road. I usually start by looking at google maps. From this location in Phoenix, things didn’t look all that promising; no long bike trails or large parks nearby. Last time I was nearby, it was in Scottsdale, and there were some very nice areas to run there. Here there only appeared to be major roads and traffic. Sidewalk running on downtown city streets is okay – it beats not running at all - but I can think of better things. I did a lot of back and forth, up and down, zigging and sagging, yin and yang, dipsy doodling, etc., all around North Central Avenue. In spite of myself, after nearly an hour of wandering, I actually did find something.

It was a bike trail along a canal. Or maybe it was a Phoenix style river. It wasn’t a bad place to run at all. Unfortunately, after only a couple of miles on that path, it was time to head back. This run was somewhat slower than Monday’s however. That may be because of the aimless wandering. It turns out that that bike trail meanders all across the city.

Now for the third and final run, I finally had a destination. I’d go east on Thomas, catch that same bike trail, follow it northwest, and then come back on Central as I did yesterday. I managed to do just that, for a run of about ten miles. Just like Tuesday’s run, this wasn’t quite as many as I’d wanted. But like Tuesday, I ran out of time. And gumption.

The perfect weather here in Phoenix – extremely clear, with low 60’s for these early morning runs, and upper 80’s for highs - is in stark contrast with the devastation caused by storm Sandy in the east. The difference is almost surreal.

So yes, I’ve risen from those ashes. I’ll need to rise further as I get back, but that’s another story.

My Run with Scissors

Finishing in the pouring rain - Photo by John McCarroll

When the race started, the trails were cold and damp, and there was a slight breeze. The other runners and I....

*****RACE REPORT INTERRUPTION*****

There are just too many race reports that proceed sequentially from start to finish. Once in a while I get a wee bit creative - or, you could say, brain rattled - and try something different. One such example is my Cleveland Marathon Report, which was written in backwards order so as to have a happy ending. Other times I've started the report in the middle of the race and worked outwards.

For this report I'll just provide a bunch of totally random thoughts, just as they appear in my brain in order to rattle around. How and why they get there, and who puts them there, is a mystery.

- Run with Scissors is Roy Heger's and Shannon Fisher's baby. It's a double marathon, marathon and 10K, all on trails within the Cuyahoga Valley National Park. I count myself as one of the many who have an undying love affair with "our" National Park. Even in the cold rain, wind and gloom, the park's beauty is the star of the show. It's breathtaking.

- I saw Josh Stucky at the first aid station, which was about 6 miles, roughly one hour into the run. We had talked the previous day about how muddy the trails would be, and so he asked how they had been so far. "Not nearly as bad as I expected," I answered. After only few steps past the aid station however, I learned how much I had just lied. There was an unbelievable amount of mud and muck. And it was only beginning. I'd had no idea how muddy these - or any - trails could get.  From that point on, they were almost unfathomable.

- There is drizzle, there is light rain, there is heavy rain, and there is windy rain. We had them all. Oh, and did I mention that that rain was cold? Rain and 60 degrees isn't so bad. Rain and 42 degrees - colder than it was at the start, certainly is bad. Throw in darkness, mud and more mud, and you get the picture,

- All that slipping and sliding around take a huge toll on the body. Especially an old one like mine. By about mile 20, everything hurt. I caught up with Jim Fisher, and we walked and jogged together a bit. He was hurting too. We had run the whole thing together a couple years back, and here we were doing it again. That other time we'd planned on doing the double marathon, but dropped down to the single after being totally spent in the five hours and forty minutes that it took us. This time we were not even thinking of such a thing. One muddy marathon would be plenty today, thank you.

- The volunteers were great, as always. It's hard to describe how much work they go through, and the ones who do ultras do it for a whole lot longer. Cold rain and wind doesn't make it any easier for them. But there they were - doing everything possible to make the runners' race experience as good as it could be. And while I'm at it, let me also say that my hat's off to RD's Roy and Shannon as well. No one does it better. Okay, just one more thing. I've said this before, but here it is again: ultrarunners are the best people, period. It's so good to see them all out there, many of my best friends, running or volunteering. They're the best.

- How come I keep referring to this as an ultra, even though this here single marathon is only 26 or 27 miles? Because it is; that's why. If you have done RWS, you understand.

- I suppose I should wrap this up sometime, so here goes. I picked it up a bit after I'd run with Jim for a mile or two. I was still hurting - in every way you can imagine - when I finally got back to the Pine Hollow Aid Station. I was 5 hours into my run, and the portion from the start/finish to here had taken me an hour in the darkness. But the way back was shorter. I finished in 5:26 - 14 minutes better than last time. I suppose you could say it was a PR!... At least for this course.

With Jan Roe and Jill Kahle - Photo by John McCarroll

The Thousand Mile Journey

Yes, of course you know about that. It begins with the first step. But this really isn't about running. At least not yet.

We got the call a little before midnight. It was Barry. Veronica's water had broken, and she was in labor. This was two weeks early. Debbie had planned to be with them when the baby arrived. She had a flight booked one week before the due date so that she could get there in plenty of time. Baby had other ideas.

By 12:45 am, we were on the road. The plan had been for Debbie to stay with Veronica and Barry for a month or so as to help out. I was to pick her up the weekend prior to Thanksgiving. Now we needed to get her there as soon as possible so that Barry could be present for the birth. Otherwise, he'd have to stay back home with little Malcolm. As it was, he did drop Veronica off at the hospital. Debbie doesn't do well driving in the dark; that's why I was taking her.

Along the way, I stopped to get some dreaded gas station coffee. I don't usually fool with the stuff, but this was a necessity. I got a gallon (or so it seemed), figuring that I'd make up with quantity what the stuff was lacking in quality. This didn't work. It was the most foul tasting stuff ever, and on top of that, it didn't even work for me. I was still sleeping along side Debbie who was doing likewise for the entire trip. Remember the National Lampoon's Vacation scene?

We did make it in one piece, but alas. We were an hour or two late. Vincent Charles Dancer had already come into the world. I got a short nap, went to visit Mom and Baby, along with Debbie, Barry and Malcolm, at the hospital. All were extremely fine. And so, having done my job, I began the long journey back home. Yes, it would be another 500 miler. All the same day.

For some reason, that part went okay, and I was able to be home and in bed by about nine pm. Now that was a long day.

Now the running part. Of course I'm a bachelor once again. Nothing to do but run, right? Well there is work, including preparing for a presentation and class at the ISMA7 conference in Phoenix. But being a bachelor, even though I don't recommend it, is somewhat good for running. Not that I recommend such a thing. In fact, I really can't wait until Debbie gets back.

But I am running more. And slightly better. This trend had started a couple weeks ago anyway. Now things are picking up even more. Too bad Shannon Fisher may ruin everything. She cornered me and made me sign up for the Run with Scissors trail marathon for tomorrow. If that doesn't ruin me, nothing will.

My Glutes Aren't Firing

And this is causing my hamstrings to do all the work. And this is causing - or, better to say - has caused my piriformis syndrome, otherwise known as "runner's butt". I found all this out by seeing a sports medicine professional. The good news is that I'd been feeling a bit better anyway, and I'd started running again. Now, with some good exercises to do, I'd say I'm definitely on my way back.

But it's a long way back. 10-mile runs now feel like my 30-milers of only a couple months ago used to. I'm only doing 25-25 miles per week. Maybe this week will be better. This is going to take a while.

One thing I'm trying this time is to bring the intensity along with the increased volume. This is because when I used to do only the latter at first with the former coming later, I'd invariably become injured at that point. Maybe this will work better.

In the words of the horse in Animal Farm, "I will work harder".

2, 3, 4, 5, 11

No, this is not an attempt at some new number sequence. It's my running miles for the last five days. Low mileage, but not a bad trend. After being out for nearly two weeks after that debacle in Connecticut, not to mention my mom's funeral, it was tough getting back. And the pain is still around. It's subsiding, but slowly.

It's hard to believe that just two months ago, I was putting in 70+ mile weeks. Today's 11 felt like 30 used to. Except it was slower. More so as the run went on. But at least I got through it.

So now it's only a matter of getting back into shape and also staying injury free; no small task. Got an appointment with a chiropractor for tomorrow. Maybe that will help.

Other random thoughts:

Naturally it was tough on me (and us) when mom passed away. But the good part of it was seeing Valerie, Barry, Veronica and Malcolm again. I say again because for the latter three, it was the third time in recent months, and once again a joy. In that earlier post I mentioned how Malcolm actually likes me, and what's more, he likes to run with me. What could be better?

The NorthCoast 24-Hour Endurance Run was last weekend, a day after mom's funeral. I had originally planned to run it, but took a DNS due to the injury. It would've been tough with everything going on anyway. I was lucky that John Hnat had all but assumed the entire role of RD. I was still officially the co-RD, but John did most of the duties just before and during race day. So I wound up just helping out. The run itself went great - despite some very challenging weather. Now I'll be stepping down entirely and only helping.

I was also a DNS for yesterday's Akron Marathon. It was tough seeing everyone at the expo but planning on not running.

I saw a shooting star yesterday! Must be a good omen.

Achievements

From the latest MCRR Newsletter:

Achievements. You’ve been hearing about Connie running 149 miles for a 24-hour record. You heard about Roy running 50 100-mile races. And Ron finishing the Mohican 100 17 times. If you’ve been around long enough, you even heard about me running 100 marathons. Yes, except for that last one, those are all great achievements. You may wonder what kind of achievement you will ever be able to accomplish.

Every running club has some super-fast runners, some marathoners, some ultrarunners and some legendary old-timers. So do we. But our club, for some unfathomable reason, has much more than its share of great ultramarathoners. Yes, it’s safe to say that we’re a little skewed.

The interesting, and really great thing about all this is that the achievements of our members inspire others among us to accomplish great things as well. At least things that seem great to us.

And that’s the key. Certainly Connie’s mileage would be world-class for anyone, but for the rest of us, our achievements are pretty darn personal. Remember your first 5K? Your first Marathon? Those must have seemed like great achievements at the time. There’s a reason for that. They were (and still are).

Now your 5K or marathon may seem like old news, and you want to do an ultra. After you accomplish a 50K, you’ve got to try a 50-miler. After that? Well, you get the picture. It never really ends – there’s always something more.

I’m writing this because some of us may feel inadequate if we haven’t managed to achieve the same types or levels of things as others amongst us. I’m here to tell you that you most definitely should not feel that way. If you’re goal is to reach 5K, and you managed to do that, your achievement is a great and wonderful thing. You may want to run a 5-miler or a 10K, but you certainly don’t have to. Your 5K achievement will stand on its own.

Every one of us has our own Mount Everest. If you’ve made it, that’s great. Pick another mountain (or planet for that matter) if you want. But still be happy with what you did. If you have yet to make it, keep trying! The joy is in the journey.

Tale of Two Halves

On the theory that things could not possibly get any worse in my running experiences, I entered a couple half marathons in preparation for the upcoming NC24 and Akron Marathon.

The first one, the River Run, actually went better than expected. This is not to say that it wasn't a PW, but it was a PW in a good way. I ran a fairly steady pace, and finished just under 1:43. Although this was a minute or so slower than my previous worst half, I was actually encouraged. There wasn't an undue amount of pain and suffering, and anytime the pace is even, you feel pretty good about it. On top of all that, my friends were all there, and it was good to see everyone.

After that race I went to work, where I almost always spend all my time on my feet. That's usually not a problem after a run or race, but it was this time for some reason. By the time I got home, my right knee was killing me. That's strange because this was a first - in recent history - for this kind of pain. My back/butt/hip pain had been on my left side, and as I mentioned, it didn't bother me very much during the race.

So I took a day or two off, and sure enough, the knee pain subsided. I ran 20 on the mill mid-week, and it didn't hurt much. In fact, even though that run was simply awful, I wasn't in pain. I was just board and tired.

Thursday was another off day as we drove to Connecticut. On Friday I ran an easy 7 on the Housatonic trail there. I like that trail, and things were looking up.

For Saturday, I'd signed up for the Sam Alpern Half Marathon in Norwalk, CT. I did the same race a year ago, and I'd enjoyed it. Since I was there by chance on the same weekend, I thought: why not? It's small (<200 a="a" and="and" believe="believe" bucks="bucks" by="by" can="can" club.="club." fifteen="fifteen" i="i" it="it" local="local" love="love" on="on" only="only" p="p" put="put" run="run" runners="runners" s="s" you="you">
Things started off fine, as I settled into a nice 7:30 - 8:00 pace. All I wanted to do is keep it steady, and better yet, pain-free. Just like last week. There was just one problem: it wasn't pain free, This time, the pain was in my right hip. And it was on the side, and sharp! The previous hip problems had been with my left side, and generally more toward the back.

Maybe it was from running so much on the side of a slanty road. Maybe it was over-compensation for my other pains. Whatever it was, I kept going. As I started the second loop, I was beginning to think that I could cheat death and make it through this race in one piece. I hit mile nine in 1:10:40 - just about like last week - and then the wheels fell completely off.

I felt something snap in the hip that was already in pain. THIS pain was really sharp. So sharp that I suddenly had to stop completely. I tried to walk a bit, and it hurt like hell. I stopped and then tried to walk some more, and I could hardly make forward progress.

A friendly biker came by and radio'd my position in, so a car could pick me up. A while later, a red Mustang convertible picked me up and took me to the finish. At least I DNF'd in style.

So things have in fact gotten worse. Worse than I could have imagined. And I'm sidelined again.