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.

Until it wasn't

Laura Hutson and I started on Lester Rail Trail at 5:00 AM. We spotted a sparkle of fireflies (first of the season, and yes, it's correct - I looked it up), an indigo bunting, and the usual cast of critters. Sharon Emmert joined us later on.

Although the pace wasn't particularly speedy, we were moving along just fine, and my strained/pulled/torn calf/back-of-knee was feeling halfway decent for a change. Until it wasn't. I had been keeping up with those fast ladies. Until I wasn't. I had been enjoying the morning. Until I wasn't. The result? Eight decent miles, and some indecent ones.

All in all, it was a good run today. Until it wasn't. 

The Big Push

 "Gentlemen, next week starts the big push."

Vince Lombardi and Jerry Kramer, winning the Super Bowl

After the Green Bay Packers won the very first Super Bowl, Jerry Kramer wrote a book about the experience. It's called Instant Replay, because, as an offensive lineman, Kramer never received much press or recognition until he made a famous block that enabled Quarterback Bart Starr to score a touchdown on a quarterback sneak to win the Championship that led to the first Super Bowl. The play was shown over and over, and cognizance and fame finally did come Kramer's way.

The 1968 book was widely read and quite influential. It's been called one of the best books ever written about football, or even all sports. What struck me most was the reverence, respect, and fear the players (big, robust men that they were) had for coach Vince Lombardi.

My most vivid recollection is this: Summer training for the upcoming Fall season was hard work. After another exhausting week, the spent players were in the locker room, too tired to even move on to the showers, much less dress up to leave for the day. They didn't want to even think about any further practice. Coach Lombardi enters and walks through the room. As he is about to exit, he announces, "Gentlemen, next week starts the big push."

Even though I read the book about 56 years ago, I still think about this in relation to my training. I can be working hard and (barely) get through a difficult week of training, but it must be said, "next week starts the big push."

Through and thru (and threw)

This week starts the big push. Try as I might, I cannot find a thorough description of what I mean by the big push. I've used the phrase more than once in the past, but I don't think I've explained its origin. That is going to change with my very next post. But not this one. For this one, I will stick to the topic: to describe mostly what's germane to today's run.

Your back/hip pain has subsided. Now, all you have to do is "run a lot" to get back into shape. (This is where the big push comes in.) A wise runner once said, "Do not increase volume and intensity at the same time (during a training cycle)." Good thing we don't pay attention to these wise guys.

Your weigh-in goes fairly well: 160 is about as good as one can expect these days.

You open a box of brand-new Nike Pegasus 41 trainers. You try them on. They feel great!

You shuffle over to Brunswick Middle School. Most speedwork occurs at Claggett Middle School, but since no one else would be showing up, it was preferable to be able to run from home. The shuffle pace is extremely slow, but that's okay.

You begin your 800s. How many will you do? Ten would be great, but since you're just getting back on your feet, any number from five to eight will do.

How fast will you do them? Until recently, the goal had been to do all under four minutes. The last few speed sessions haven't been so spectacular, however. Today, any decent pace will do. 

The first three are somewhat slower than four minutes, but you're unbothered. It feels good to run (fairly) fast, regardless of what the watch says.

Now comes the fourth. The first lap is your fastest yet; it's under two minutes - finally! Just as you begin the second lap, the pull/painful strain occurs in the tendon (or whatever it is) behind your left knee. Ouch!

And just like that, you're done. Done for the run for sure; for the week? The month? The year? Don't know, but it's discouraging.

I had been "training through" the back injury. Now, I have another one to do the same with: this knee thing. I guess you can say that I threw it out.

A weak back? When did you get it?

"Oh, about a week back."

Sorry for the old Vaudeville joke. My dad was a Vaudeville performer, and he had them in spades. To wit:

Patient: "Doc, it hurts when I raise my arm (or move my leg forward) like this."
Doctor: "Then don't do that."
Patient: "Doc, I have this pain in my hip."
Doctor: "Did you ever have this before?"
Patient: "Yes."
Doctor: "Well, you've got it again."

The good news is that my back/hip pain has improved. I have been stretching my lower back and strengthening my core. That, and taking a couple of days off, I believe, have helped.

It only hurts when I move my leg forward

It's unfortunate that moving a leg forward is a critical success factor for running. And walking. And climbing stairs. It appears that the general pain and soreness I've been experiencing during recent runs has coalesced into sciatica or something similar. These recent runs have become more and more painful, so much so that I took today off. It's the first off-day in over a month. Pretty drastic, eh?

This is all a bit of a shame for several reasons. 

1) I should be in peak condition now - in the past, when I've peaked for a marathon, my best running often came a couple of weeks after the big event. That's where I thought I might be these days. It ain't happening.

2) The weather has been absolutely gorgeous. I love to run on cool, crisp days like the ones we've been having. But it's hard to love your run when you're in so much pain.

3) I'm getting sympathy from my friends. I understand that this is out of love and concern for Dear Old Dan, but I'd much rather have their admiration for my greatness. (This is a kind of a joke, you know.) But even though I have so much trouble keeping up, it's still good to be with them. After Friday's failed attempt at a long run on Lester, I ran with Dave Gajewski and Larry Orwin on the Towpath, and then with Kelly Parker and Debbie Hicks on the Chippewa Inlet Trail.

I just hope I'm not on the wagon too much longer.

Chippewa Inlet Trail