Roscoe Ewing Park Trail

Dan commences his fourth sojourn down the Roscoe Ewing Park Trail. He had gone out and back with the 5:30 group, with the 6:00 group (there was some overlap among the runners), with one person after all that to go back to pick up the walkers, and finally, this time, alone. Why is he doing this in the ridiculous 81-degree early-morning heat? Because he wants his run to be in the double-digits, of course.

Dan knows that you have been wondering why he can no longer manage to run long distances. He would answer that the reason he can't run eighteen miles is that he can't do ten miles. The nagging injuries, of which he has many, keep him well under double-digits, and those used to be Dan's standard (almost-always) daily distance. Lately, unfortunately, five miles is the new ten.

Today will be different, thinks Dan. He will get his double-digits, even if it kills him and all his running friends. (Well, okay; not them. They were smart enough to get done and go home.) Dan shuffles back to the Square. His watch tells him that he did 10.1 miles.

This bodes well for a couple of reasons. He has the Medina Twin Sizzler coming up in two days. It will entail running a 5K and a 10K in this hot weather. Dan now believes that he may be capable of running the nine-plus-mile distance. It also bodes well because Dan managed to not be in an excessive amount of pain today, not even for the final miles. Will his good luck continue? Stay tuned.

 

The collection

When a photographer wants you to buy photos from a race, they provide proofs that you can choose from. In the old days before digital photography, they would send small proofs in the mail. Although I only bought a few photos, I kept all the proofs. Until now. Now, they're going in the trash.

But I still have all my bibs. ALL my bibs.

Running through the decades, on the sixes

It occurred to me that this knee injury is similar to one that I had in 2006. So I looked at my blog posts to remind myself of all the gory details. More on this exercise in a bit. First, let's take a look back at some other things that were happening in other past decades.

• 70 years ago, in 1956, I wasn't running much, except maybe a little bit around the yard. How could I? I was three. 
• 60 years ago, in 1966, I was running, but only enough to get by in football and baseball. At 13, sports were my life. I think I liked track and field, but wasn't yet ready to participate.
• 50 years ago, in 1976, I was indeed running. The running boom was happening all around, and I was in the thick of it. But I was only just getting started. To the best of my recollection, my first serious road race was not until the Johnnycake Jog race the following year.
• 40 years ago, in 1986, I had already run a few marathons, and having made the move to Michigan, was just beginning to run regularly again and train for my next one, which would occur in 1987.
• 30 years ago, in 1996, I was pretty much at my peak, running-wise. Interesting that this occurred around age 43 for me. I ran my third-ever ultra, which wasn't a big deal, and I ran four marathons (two of them under three hours), which was. The last one, a 2:59 at Toe-to-Tow, precursor to the Towpath Marathon, was the last time I ever broke three hours. For that and other reasons, it remains one of my most memorable.
• 20 years ago, in 2006, I was also having a good year. Until I wasn't. In April, I ran the Boston Marathon in 3:09. It was my best time in five years. Now 53, I truly believed I had a chance to break three hours for the first time since that Toe-to-Tow race, ten years past. This time, my focus was on the Columbus Marathon in October. Hold this thought for one more moment, so I can discuss 2016. I'll be back.
• 10 years ago, in 2016, I was into ultras, in a big way. Although I'd done one marathon, Landis Loonies, my focus was on the four ultras that I did: Green Jewel 50K, Rock the Ridge 50-mile, Mugrage Park 6-Hour, and Buckeye Woods 50K. Of those, Rock the Ridge was the most unique and memorable.

Now, let's get back to 2006, shall we? I had run the Tahoe Triple the prior year. It was three challenging marathons in three consecutive days. To train for it, I ran long runs on consecutive training days. During the peak of my Columbus training block, I decided to run two 20-milers on back-to-back days. Toward the end of the second one, I felt a sudden sharp pain behind my right knee. And just like that, it was the end of my sub-3 hopes. I ran a painful 3:18 in C-bus and never managed to get under 3:10 again.

Today, I decided to look up the blog post about that incident. I never figured out exactly what caused the pain, but at the time, I speculated that it was a torn meniscus. Whatever it was then, I believe it's the same thing now. 

The good news is that I did not stop running entirely, and the pain did eventually subside... after many months.

Acme Fresh Market Foundation 8k Race Report

"Oof." Every morning, whilst preparing for my run, I travel to the basement to get ready. It's where my running clothes and stuff live. That first step back up the stairs has been painful since I've been battling the old sciatica, or whatever this thing is. Such is the case today, but the good news is that things have improved a bit of late. This week's running hasn't been quite so awful.

The Acme Fresh Market Foundation 8k sounded like a good idea. It's part of the Akron Marathon race series; the other two races are the Goodyear Half and the Akron Marathon Full. Why not do this third one? And (the icing on the cake), everybody, even my friends, is doing it. It's also one of the many, many races I registered for before I began battling these injuries. I wouldn't be here if I hadn't already paid.

After my warmup jog, I bump into Julie Boggs and Theresa Wright. We begin the race together, and we stay close to one another throughout the first half. I'm feeling okay, but those two gradually pull away - they're speeding up, and I'm barely holding my pace. That pace is slow for a 5-mile race for me, but it's faster than I've run in well over a month. If I can just maintain it, I'll be able to call this a decent race.

"Oof." At the 4-Mile Marker, I feel a sudden sharp pain in my Left Calf. It slows me down from about 8:30 pace to around 14-minute pace. I'm horribly hobbling, and the other runners are passing me like crazy. I'd not been too far behind Julie and Theresa, but now those two are long gone. This calf thing is yet another injury that I've been dealing with. I'm sure it's related to the sciatica, but it is on the other side from my painful hip. Suffice it to say that everything hurts, but the calf wins the prize for this day.

The results are painful as well. I finished in 47:11, 7th in my age group. Had this been a 4-mile race, I'd be a somewhat-happy-camper. Mile 5 changed all that. Instead, call me a mostly-unhappy-camper.

Something to write home about

A month or two ago, if I did not run ten or more miles, it was something to write home about. That was then. Now, three and a half weeks into whatever this problem of mine is, I haven't been able to crack double digits at all. Until today. I did it, but it was only on my mill. And it wasn't pretty at all. I crashed for the final two miles and only shuffled it in to make my goal. So here I am, writing home about running ten miles.

Yesterday, I had my best run in a very long time. It was with friends at Brunswick Lake for six miles. I actually felt good, and we maintained a halfway decent pace - something I've also been struggling with. I was highly encouraged. But I should also point out that I took a Vitamin I (aka Ibuprofen) the previous evening. I only take them once in a very great while because there are some good reasons to avoid taking too many. How many is too many? I wish I knew.

Today's treadmill trot more or less started out where yesterday's run left off. And I was doing fine today as well. Until I wasn't. At about mile 8, I had to drastically slow down and struggle my way home. 

I have another group run planned for tomorrow morning. And I'm taking some more of my favorite vitamin tonight.

And yet. Here you are.

"How are you, Dan?" It's Rita Annes, another early morning runner from my Hood, coming up from behind. I've known Rita for years, and we occasionally bump into one another on the run. My slow shuffle is ludicrously slow this morning, so Rita has no trouble catching me. 

"Not so great; I'm hurting," I answer. 

"I can see that," says Rita, with a measure of sympathy in her voice. "And yet..." she says as she passes by. "Here you are!" That last bit was said with a good amount of respect and admiration. I'll take it. But I wish I could feel more deserving.

What I am feeling is pain. The days and days of rest are not helping, at least so far. I've said this before, so please excuse the repetition. It's not just his calf that's hurting; it's everything else as well.  Everything - every muscle, bone, tendon, brain cell, etc.

I feel like I'm running a marathon every day. Whether or not I even get out for a slow shuffle.

Hey, maybe this will help

 

Extra strength training and stretching? Sure, let's give it a shot.

Two consecutive rest days and other reduced mileage? That has to work.

Soaking in a hot Epsom salt bath? Certainly won't hurt.

Kinesio Tape? That will be the icing on the cake.

After all that, Dan thinks that perhaps today will be the day; the day that he begins the long road back to healthy, effective running. He's fairly determined to make this one a double-digit run day. Until a month ago, double-digit days were fairly standard. Now, it would be an accomplishment.

Dan arrives at the Square forty minutes early. This way, he can get four miles in prior to the six he will do with his friends at six (a.m.). Except he doesn't. He only shuffles around and uses the portable toilet and only gets two in. That's okay. He will run the six and then finish up with two extra miles when they all leave. No problem.

The group run begins with some amount of pain. Dan tells anyone who will listen that it's his calf, or perhaps something else behind his left knee. Dan does not tell his friends that he's got another problem, too. It's not just his calf that's hurting; it's everything else as well.  Everything - every muscle, bone, tendon, brain cell, etc. 

After a couple of increasingly painful miles, Dan has to slow to a walk. His friends graciously decide to walk with him instead of doing their own running. Dan is truly overwhelmed by their sacrifice, but he feels bad to have made them slow down. He's been doing a lot of slowing-of-friends lately.

What's next?? Dan wishes he knew.  The bottom line for today is that none of the above actually helped. He may need medical help. And/or possibly more time off. Dan is concerned that at his advanced age, he has to wonder whether a full recovery is still a possibility.

When he runs, he flies

This is another oldie that I just came across. It's from the early 1990s.

Picture this. A beautiful country setting of a dirt road with some woods on one side and some open fields and an old wooden fence on the other. Way off in the distance a lone runner slowly approaches. What could be more serene?

But wait a minute. That runner is suddenly showing some very strange behavior. He is alternately speeding up and slowing down, and even weaving from side to side on the road. He is clapping his hands high in the air and slapping the top of his head. Now he is running fast and then suddenly stopping and ducking, only to start running again. WHAT is going on here?

That was me. I'm not always quite that crazy, but the deer flies were after me. Welcome to summertime in rural Michigan.

Now I live in a nice, civilized place called Farmington Hills. Despite the name, there aren't a lot of farms here, and not a whole lot of wooded or other rural areas either. Deer flies are not welcome here. Thus, I don't look quite so funny when I run near home. It's when I run in other parts of Michigan that they get me.

My friend Brian lives in a somewhat more rural place called Oakland Township. Just as I've learned not to wear new shoes when running up there with him ("Time to turn down this muddy path, here"), I've given up expressing my requests to stay away from the woods ("Just this one dirt road" or "The only way back is on Paint Creek Trail"). But once they find us he becomes as miserable as I am. At least when there are two or more of us, we can slap at each other. This may look a little funny, too.

I am beginning to form a theory that the farther I get from Farmington Hills, the more flies there are. I've had occasion to run in the Upper Peninsula a few times. It is hard for me to believe that there are people who run up there all the time. Maybe they're immune to the flies. One of my runs began as one of the most beautiful, right along Lake Superior. It ended as one of the ugliest, as I discovered after one mile that I was literally covered with flies. After I turned to head back home, I may have broken the world record for the mile. I didn't stop to ask them whether they were black flies or deer flies.

All of this leads me to write a letter to the flies: Deer Flies, Please go away.

Slightly belated 1997 Ohio-Michigan Run Race Report

Sorry for the belated race report. Purely by chance, I came across this old file - a report from the

1997 Ohio-Michigan Run. 

I had won one race in my entire life. That was a 440 Yard run during 8th-grade track.
In these recent (and much later) years, I've unrealistically yearned to win another one.
The Ohio/Michigan Run consists of a Marathon, a 10K, and a 5K. All of the runs
begin in Ohio and go across to Michigan and back to Ohio. The 5K and 10K
are fast and competitive, with large fields.

The Marathon is different. About 65 of us lined up for the 6:00 AM start that July
morning. The humidity and warm temperatures ensure that only die-hards would be out

to do such a foolhardy event. The course consists of 8
and 1/2 laps of the 5K course, which is a simple out-and-back run on one road.
Runners cross the Ohio/Michigan State Line 18 times.

My goal was to run each 5K in 21 minutes and the last 1.4-mile loop in 9 or
10 minutes, to just break three hours. Never has a race gone so completely
according to plan; I did, in fact, manage to average just about 21 minutes per
lap. At halfway, I was in fifth place, about 4 minutes behind the leader.
It is really interesting to be able to see all of the other competitors throughout
the race. It even makes for good camaraderie, as many of us would yell 

encouragement to each other as we went by.

As a running mate dropped off a bit, I gradually began to pass the runners
between myself and the leader. His lead slowly dwindled, decreasing
by around one minute per lap, until only one minute separated us
for the last 5K, and then only 1/2 minute for the last 1/2 lap. After the final
turnaround,  I could finally see him ahead of me. I was closing fast,
running at full-tilt, but just couldn't get to him in before he crossed the finish line.
Never before have I wished that a marathon was longer, but I only needed
another 200 yards or so to have passed him.

My time was 2:58:00, a PR by about 14 seconds! The winner was just seconds
ahead of that. Could I have run just a bit faster to make up the difference? I've
searched my conscience, and the answer is no; I had given it all I had.