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.

RIP Neil Armstrong

Neil Armstrong, a great man, and personal hero of mine, passed away. He was extremely quiet and humble, but showed a great amount of courage to become a war hero, test pilot, and eventually the first to walk on the moon. He was most recently involved in trying to prevent our space exploration program, including exploration of the moon and mars, from being completely eliminated by short-sighted budget cuts.

RIP Mr. Armstrong.

DNS

Runners know that DNF means Did Not Finish. Many to most also know that DNS stands for Did Not Start. But not everyone knows that it also means, Dispense No Sympathy. Or, Dummies Never Saunter.

The first one, Did Not Start, applies to my entry for the Moebius Green Monster 50K that's scheduled for this Saturday. Whatever I did to my butt/hip/leg/back ain't getting better fast enough. As I've already noted, I've not only slowed down tremendously, but I've also lost any strength I had. Now I can't even seem to get more than about 5-9 miles at a time. You're hearing this from the guy who was doing 30-milers just a couple weeks ago. So I have now removed myself from Moebius. Too bad. And I don't know what I'll do about all the other races I've so stupidly pre-registered for.

As far as Dispense No Sympathy is concerned, I definitely don't want sympathy from all my running friends. But that seems to be all I get these days. I want fear instead. But that just ain't happening now. Another consideration: maybe I wouldn't get so much sympathy if I didn't spend so much time crying.

Regarding Dummies Never Saunter, I'm not sure what that means, but it sure sounds good.

Did I talk about Personal Worsts (PW's)? They're not quite as exhilarating as their brethren, the Personal Records. But I'm sure getting them in spades now as I run my regular routes WAY slower than ever.

But please: Dispense No Sympathy.

Reduced Speed, I'll Grant You. But Strength?

Debbie's Grandma was in a bar with a bunch of us other family members. At one point, a guy asked Grandma if she was truly a grandma. She answered, "I'm not only a grandma, I'm a great-grandma!" The guy thought about this for a time, and then said, "Good, I'll grant you. But great? aren't you taking that a bit too far?"

And then there was the time Archie Bunker met Sammy Davis Jr. and asked, "I know you couldn't help being colored, but why did you have to go turn jew?"

Running with Bill Henry at about mile 4.
Photo by  Larry Orwin

Had you asked how I thought I'd do at the Perfect 10-Miler a month or two ago, I'd have answered that I'd be lucky to hold a 7:30 pace. Had you asked a week ago, I'd have answered that I may be able to do most miles in the low 7-minute range, and maybe even go sub-7 for some. Had you asked a couple days ago, I'd have answered that I'd be lucky to hold any pace at all. This sort of reflects my ups and downs of recent times. My strength and speed improved dramatically in recent weeks to the point where I had been doing tempo runs of 3 and 4 miles at sub-7 pace. And then a few days back, it all came crashing down as my butt injury came back with a vengeance.

My 7:30 pace in the early miles should have been conservative. I reached half-way in about 38 minutes. A 75 minute finish wouldn't have been half bad. I'd run each of these 10-milers, and almost all had featured negative splits. Even though I was injured, I ought to still have all that strength I'd built up in recent weeks, no?

No. Of course mile 6 - the uphill one - was slow, and mile 7 - the downhill one - was decent. But I wound up slowing for the rest and finishing in 78 minutes. A PW. By a lot.

So that's the reason for the title and the initial story. With this here injury, Reduced Speed, I'll Grant You. But Strength? It hurts to bring my leg forward, and this reduced range of motion surely reduces my running speed. But why did the strength have to go as well? Why couldn't I have just powered my way through?

And to paraphrase Archie, I know you couldn't help being slow, but why did you go and become weak?

It's Pity Party Time Again

I had about three to four really good weeks in a row. The PF was all but gone, and the butt pain had also mostly subsided. My most recent blog post, Miles and Miles, about all these miles I've now been able to do, reflected this new-found optimism. I also mentioned my new, miraculous ability to run long when I wrote about one of my 30-mile training runs. I had even managed to do a bit of speedwork and some tempo runs.

You guessed it. Something snapped, and it all came crashing down the other night at the track. And now I am once again wallowing in self-pity. Here's how it happened:

1) Last Thursday I did another 30. It went well - I managed a nine-minute pace throughout, and the last few miles were the fastest. I was pretty durn happy with myself.
2) After taking Friday off, and with plans to also take Sunday off, I decided to meet up with MCRR friends at Hinckley Saturday. 10 miles would get me up to 80 for the week - way more than my usual 70. Instead of one nine-mile loop, peer-pressure got to me and I wound up doing two. Even though the 'ole legs were a little tired, the run itself went really well.
3) Now my legs were really tired. Instead of a long run on Monday morning, I only did 10. Tuesday morning should have been really easy since the Second Annual MCRR Track Meet was scheduled for the evening. But... I felt pretty good and actually got down to tempo pace for 3 of the 8 miles.
4) Then came the Meet. Before that tempo run, I'd been hoping that I could put up a fast time for the 5K that was on the schedule. Now I wasn't so sure about it. But no matter - I'd just do the best I could. No worries. Except when it hurts... Bad. It was during the first event, the 1600. I didn't feel a snap; the butt pain - just like I'd had earlier in the year - just came on, and it got progressively worse.

And wouldn't you know it? With all that optimism, I had registered for a bunch of races, including the Moebius 50K and the River Run Half. I'd previously registered for a bunch more, like NC24, Akron Marathon and the Perfect 10-Miler. That Perfect 10 is tomorrow, and it is definitely not going to be pretty.

Stay tuned for more self-pity.

Miles and Miles

I'm back. Back to doing long runs - and reasonably successfully - that is.

My most recent little injuries are beginning to subside, and once in a great while, the miserable heat subsides too. But that heat and my mom's medical problems have made it challenging. I tried to work in some quality earlier in the week. It wasn't spectacular, and I wound up shuffling home those times.

But Friday, despite high heat and humidity, I got out early and did another 30-miler. Like the last (good) time, I did many of the miles at the track. And also like that time, I averaged about 9 minutes a mile, with the last few being the bestest.

I'll take it.

Overall weekly mileage is still hovering around 70. That's okay, but with NC24 coming up, I'll need to step it up sometime.

Speaking of miles, I was the generator delivery man for the Burning River 100-Mile race this year. It felt good to be helpful, but I'm not so sure I want to keep spending so much time volunteering. I may cut that back some.

My Mom (Absolutely No Running Content)

Sorry about this non-running-related post.

We knew it had to happen sometime. Mom would either fall and break a hip, come down with pneumonia, or have some kind of major heart problem. It was the former. But why did it have to happen when I was responsible?

A week and a half ago, Dave, Carol and Mom came over. We went to lunch, and then sat at our house and talked. I had to go to work, so I said I'd drop Mom off at her assisted living home since it's on the way. She and I went into the garage, and I let go of her for one second so as to close the door behind us. Mom tripped over our board as she tried to make her own way between the two cars.

I've played the scene over in my mind a million times. It's almost like a dream. It was only for a second that I'd let go of her. She fell so slowly and almost gracefully. I almost could have reached and caught her, even though I had been reaching back to close the door. Right away, she said, "I broke my hip". We got EMS to take her to SW General.

I can't even say how terrible I feel about all this. Everyone has been extremely understanding, saying it could have happened to anyone at any time. I know. But why me? A few days earlier I had visited her at her assisted living place, and when I was leaving, she told the lady sitting nearby, "He's such a good son".

After a couple days in the hospital, she had surgery. This was scary because no one knew if her heart could take it. It did, and the operation was successful.

The recovery has not been as good as I thought it would be. We understood that it would take time, and that it would be tough for her to walk again. But she's having trouble with just about everything that requires movement. A week after the surgery, she was moved to a nursing home. We had done some extensive research to find a good one for her.

She's getting good care now. They are very intent on getting her back to her former level of movement and independence through physical and occupational therapy. If she can get at least mostly back, she can return to her assisted living home. If not, she'll probably need to stay at the nursing home.

The recovery is still problematic. She has good days and bad days. Since the surgery, she has been more confused than ever. They say it's due to the anesthetic. We've been visiting every day.

All of this happened in the midst of our visitation from Veronica, Barry and Malcolm. As much as Debbie and I were worried about Mom, and as much as we had to go and visit, we thoroughly enjoyed that visit. We did some fun stuff, like the beach, a family picnic and the Great Lakes Brewery. But we mostly had fun with Malcolm.

He is a real joy. And he seemed to have fun too. But here's the thing. He likes me. This is quite unusual, for kids are sometimes a little afraid of me. Other times, they are just cautious and standoff-ish with me. I don't take it personally; I just accept it.

Not Malcolm. He actually seeks me out to run (yes, run - walking always turns into running) with him, or to play in some other way. He seems to light up when he sees me. He calls both Debbie and me "Momma"!! (There's only the one "Dada".) What a joy.

How Not to do a Long Run

My last post was about how to run a 30-miler. I wrote that after a fairly successful long run, which resulted in me being reasonably happy with myself. Today I'll let you know how not to do such a thing.

0) Plan to do thirty miles, just like last week.
1) Don't visit with friends, eat wings and drink a couple glasses of wine the night before.
2) Don't take a couple prunes before bed in hopes that they will help move all the mail through.
3) Don't get an awful night's sleep the night before - partly due to the warm and humid conditions and partly due to those prunes on top of all that food and drink.
4) Don't get up at 2-something because you can't sleep.
5) Don't get out the door at 3:20am - well earlier than even *I* had hoped for.
6) Don't stumble back home after the first seven miles in search of a bathroom and more refreshments. This is already not going like last week's run.
7) Don't go out and do an 11-mile loop after the first 7.
8) (This one's important) Don't step on a stick with one foot, simultaneously hitting it head-on and tripping over it with the other, causing a sharp pain in the butt. This was an instant pull of some glute or upper hamstring muscle. Ouch. This is *definitely* not going like last week's run.
9) Don't let an incident such as the one in 8 rattle you. Or stop you dead in your tracks. Like it did to me.
10) Don't walk / stumble / struggle home after the incident described in 8. Of course there was no other way.
11) Don't only do two more miles at an 11+ minute pace because you're shot.
12) Don't resolve never to have a lousy run like this again.

The end.

How to Run 30 Miles ~or~ Dan the Man with the Plan: Out the Door Before Four for the Track Attack

Plans are usually good things to have. As Dan always says, a failure to plan is a plan to fail. The funny thing about plans is that if you don't follow them, they really aren't always all that great. But then once in a while, the new, improved plan still works.

But I'm sure you tuned in because you want to know how to run 30 miles. Here's how I do it, in cookbook format:

1) Wake up and get out of bed 25 minutes before the 3:20am alarm.
2) Plan to get out the door before four (am, that is).
3) Drink 2 cups of coffee; eat 2 nectarines.
4) Take some water and Endurolytes.
5) Struggle mightily to get the compression shorts and socks on.
6) Stumble out the door at 3:58am. At this point, things are still going according to plan.
7) Wander the three miles over to Brunswick High School. Notice along the way that OH-303 is still closed at the intersection of Troon due to yesterday's water main break.
8) Find the track <>. This is significant because up until a couple days ago, I hadn't found it open for something on the order of a year. I did manage to run there Tuesday morning, so I knew that this was a possibility.
9) Re-plan. At this point I am already *not* according to plan: the part of the plan that said that the 30 miles would be made up of five six-mile loops. This was so that I could keep returning home for short breaks and proper hydration and nutrition. Once I stepped on the track, I was already more than three miles away from home. The re-planning resulted in a new plan to do three ten-mile runs. Each one would include the three miles to the track, four miles on the track, and the three back home.
10) Wander around the track.
11) After running a bit over four miles, re-plan. This time decide to run two fifteen-mile runs. This means nine miles at the track plus the three there and three back each time. Don't ask why the decision was made to stay longer, because I don't have an answer.
12) Wander around the track some more. Do almost all these miles at just under nine-minute pace. Switch directions to avoid turning the same way all the time. Stop for h2o once or twice.
13) After nine miles at the track, run home to complete the first fifteen, feeling pretty beat.
14) Get more hydration and nutrition, a bottle of Heed, and head back out the door.
15) Wander over to the track once again. Now it's getting light. Decide on a whim to (instead of hitting the track) run around the high school and across 303 to near Brunswick Lake and the Nature Center. Who knows why?
16) Re-plan. Decide that the most recent two-fifteen miler plan wasn't all that bad, so go back to the track to do as much of that as possible.
17) Wander around the track.
18) Try to pick up the pace just a bit. Actually manage to do this successfully - at least down to 8:30-8:45 pace, thanks to a little help from the energy gels and Heed.
19) After seven or so track miles, determine that the total is 27, so begin to head home. The last two had been the fastest. Fancy that.
20) Stumble home, arriving four hours, twenty-nine and half minutes after the start.
21) Strest. (That's a combination of stretch and rest.

There once was an ancient runner in Brunswick

There once was an ancient runner in Brunswick

Who in past years fancied himself quite quick

But those days are long past

For today he’s not so fast

And to run at all is some kind of trick

When you wake up before 3am and are out the door running before 4am, things like this begin to bounce around in your head.

Among the other things bouncing up there were the "Questions Without Answers". You know the type. Stuff like:

How did I manage to gain seven pounds over three days?

How could Wednesday's 5K be so fast, whilst the associated 10K is so slow?

What's with those flying pink elephants I'm seeing?

And of course the kicker: Why am I doing this?

This, of course, is running at the ungodly hour of 4am. But I do actually have an answer for that one. Sort of.

I've got Moebius (maybe) and then NC24 on my horizon. This means I need to begin adding some miles. I'd been planning on about 24 today, but when I awoke 40 minutes earlier than my alarm, I started thinking 30. And with the heat index forecast for 110+ degrees today (real temps on the order of 97-98 up in cooler Cleveland), it's best to get going early.

So was it 24 or 30? Neither. I did three 6-mile loops, returning home for refreshments each time. At that point my legs were beginning to tire and it was getting hot, but I started running with friendly neighbor Rita Annes. That was helpful, as it's almost always better to run with someone else, and I did indeed need the company at that point. We did 6-7 together, and then I did a couple more to make 26 altogether.

I'll be sure to post something when I have the other answers.

The Fourth 'H'

During the summer months, runners often note that this or that race was subject to the Three H's: Hills, Heat and Humidity. The Medina Twin Sizzler 10K has them in spades, as it was especially hot and humid for this edition. I would like to add a fourth H to the mix: Humility.

The Sizzler is held on the 4th of July every year, and the entire Medina town square is buzzing with activity. Besides the 10K, there's a 5K, a 1-mile kids run, a walk, and various bicycle races. Just about everyone from the MCRR, and it seems, everyone from Medina is there.

You probably believe that I'm done talking about Four H's, and am ready to begin some long and boring description of my race(s). You would be almost right. But first there's at least one more instance of Four H's,

As I was getting out of my car to pick up my 5K and 10K bibs and shirt, a gentleman approached and asked me about the wording on my shirt. The front has the MCRR logo, and the back says, "Hinckley Hills, Serious Runners Only." I explained who the MCRR is, and that we run the hills in Hinckley almost every Sunday. I naturally tried to recruit him. He said he'd look us up. He was with a younger looking woman, and he said his name is Dennis.

After the 5K but before the 10K, I bumped into Tom Bieniosek, who happened to be talking with Dennis, whom, I'd met just 45 minutes before. It turns out that Dennis also has the last name of Horvath. The young woman was his daughter, and his wife was there as well. So there we were, four Horvaths, or another instance of Four H's.

On to the races. I haven't done very many of these 5K/10K type things of late. There's a bunch of reasons, not the least of which is my plethora of injuries along with the resulting lack of fitness, over the past year or so. Now that I'm beginning to feel better, even though I've still lost so much speed and strength, I have to begin again somewhere. And the Sizzler was the ticket; you just gotta do the Sizz.

After saying hello to gobs of my MCRR buddies before the start of the 5K, we were off. Everyone screams down that first hill, and then pays for it next mile and a half. Not me. I took it fairly easy for the first mile, and then tried to pick it up for the second. Well, that didn't quite go as planned, as both miles were a couple seconds over seven minutes.

Did I mention the heat? The 5K start was at 7:45am, so it wasn't too terrible yet. There was plenty of shade along the way. The humidity made it tough however. And of course, the humility.

I tried to pick it up some more for the third mile, and I think I actually succeeded this time. It's mostly downhill, with the final uphill at the end. My time was 21:02 on my watch.

That really isn't too terribly awful. It's better than last year (when I was still hurting from Mohican), but a minute slower than 2010.

For those that run the 5K in the 20 Minute range, there is a wait of nearly an hour before the start of the 10K. Some people hang around and talk, and take in refreshments during this time. My plan was to keep running, albeit easily, in order to stay loose and also get in some extra mileage. Well, that didn't quite go as planned, as I did jog a bit, but mostly talked with people such as the aforementioned Tom and Dennis, among others.


Now that the 9am 10K start was rolling around, the temperature was getting up there. In my mind, I could see the mercury shooting up to the top of the thermometer, and then exploding out the top. Or, as someone in FaceBook recently said, someone set the thermostat to 'hell'.


The 10K features more hills and less shade than the 5K. What's not to like? My plan for this one was to take it easy, and just run a steady pace. Well, that didn't quite go as planned. My mile times varied by as much as 20 seconds, but I think this was mostly due to the hills. I mostly averaged about 7:30 per mile.


And did I mention the heat? Oh yeah, I guess I did.


I came in at something like 47:15 on my watch. That's fearfully slow for the Dan of a couple years ago, but once again better than last year. No matter how you slice it, this 10K is always a tough one.


I took third in my age group for each race. The awards always seem to take forever, but it's a good time to kibbutz even further with friends.


The next day Joe Herbert informed me that my photo had appeared in the Medina Gazette. It's actually quite telling.

Toelio

Guy on his wedding night starts by taking his socks off. "What happened to your toes?" asked his new bride. The guy answers, "Toelio." She says, "You mean polio." "No, toelio," he goes on, "It's a childhood disease I had that leaves the toes all mangled and bent like this."

Next he takes his pants off. "What's wrong with your knees?" asks the bride. "Kneasels" he replies. "You must mean measles." "No, it was kneasles, a childhood disease that leaves the knees crooked and malformed like this."


When he takes is undershorts off, she says, "Don't tell me. Let me guess: you had Smallcox."


Now back to toelio. I call my black toenail that. It's my left big toe, and it's good and black. And painful. The worst part is that I seem to keep injuring it further, driving it to become even more black. Now I can put up with that little bit of pain, but last time I lost a big toenail, it wound up - six months later - becoming a *large* amount of pain. That would be when I had to extract it with the pliers because it was coming off anyway.


One root cause seems to be my Salomon XR Mission shoes. Gotta stop wearing those for anything more than a few miles.


Speaking of a few miles, I did do a few in them yesterday: 23 towpath ones to be exact. I've been hitting the TP fairly regularly for my Saturday medium to long runs. And of course there's always Hinckley on Sundays.


I think things are looking up a bit. The fact that my main malady of the moment is toelio, and not severe butt pain or PF, is telling. Those other problems haven't been 100% eradicated, but they have improved. 


It doesn't hurt to run any more!!! (in a small voice, at least not too much.)

Innarguably Innaugural - The Canton Marathon

Michelle Wolff, Debbie Scheel, Dan Daubner, Dan Horvath
and John Pavlick after meeting at 4am and driving to,
and arriving at Canton
Thanks to Dan Daubner for the photo

They spelled inaugural with two n's on the bib. Twice. But then they spelled it correctly on the ribbon attached to the medal. The medal, by the way, weighs in at about seventeen pounds. I'm going to donate it to the US Olympic Committee so that they can use if for hammer throw practice.

After answering the question, what were you thinking when you scheduled a medium-sized city marathon mid June? about a thousand times, the race committee's big day had finally arrived. The race was only a couple minutes away from the start. There were long porta-potty lines going right across the road that we believed we'd be starting the race on. We thought this because they had the pace signs all along the road there in front of the stadium, and because that's where everyone else was beginning to line up. So what if we'd trample the poor potty-goers.

That's when I got into a disagreement with Verrelle Wyatt. He told me that the start was way down and around the bend in a park. "No way," said I, "it's right here in front of us." And that's when a race official called out for all of us to follow her, pied-piper-like, to the actual start which was 3/4 mile away - right where Verrelle said it would be.

We arrived at 6:01am for the 6:00am start. Then they announced that the 6:00am start would actually occur at 6:20am, so I went for a jog to keep loose. I was going to say, keep warm, but it was already warm and humid. I was jogging back on the adjacent sidewalk at 6:15am, when the gun went off, sending the runners towards me, but on the road. I scuttled over far enough to go over the timing mats and then begin running in the desired direction. I suppose they figured that a delayed start followed by an early start at the same race equals an on-time start.

I don't mean to be overly critical. Some rookie, or should I say innaugural, mistakes could be expected. By and large, everything worked very well.

Even the weather. Going in, everyone was concerned about heat. At Cleveland, Boston, and gobs of other spring marathons it had been a major factor. The forecast for Canton wasn't hopeful either: the sunny high was to be in the mid to upper eighties. In fact, the skies stayed cloudy, the air humid, and it never got all that hot at all. There was even a misty rain and a brief downpour late in the race.

The other things that went well had to do with organization and planning. The aid stations, traffic control and finish line were all done exceedingly well. I know that runners come to expect these things at big races these days, but I appreciate all that went into the day.

How did my run go, you ask? I started out at an 8-minute pace and held that fairly well until mile 12 or so. That's when the hills started to take their toll on my pace. Half-way went by at just about 1:45.

The second half wasn't quite so spectacular. I slowed and then slowed some more. 20 miles went by at about 2:45. Even that isn't so awful, but I still had a 10K - and yet more slowing down - to go. 10-minute miles ensued as the hills only seemed to get bigger, I finished in 3:46 and change.

I'm pretty sure that all the hills caused me to run a slower than expected time. Yes, they were tough, but I've run tough ones before. I just don't like it when I slow down like that.

Even so, it was my least bad marathon in a while. Things can only keep getting better, right?

Endless Summer

This May they had to cancel the Madison, WI Marathon due to record high temperatures in the mid-nineties. This followed other events that were either canceled while in progress, or had to offer deferments or had to take other measures to deal with record high temperatures.

The Canton Marathon is tomorrow, and we'll see temperatures close to ninety. I'm not looking forward to that. Why O Why did they think that a big (okay medium) city marathon in June would be a good idea? The ones in April and May couldn't even manage. Okay, that's it for complaining and feeling sorry for myself. That's also it for running content.

2012 was already set to go down as the year with no winter. And now there's no spring, either. That's not all. There are tornadoes, flooding and drought galore. Hurricanes began well before hurricane season. And everything that grows, hibernates or seasonally migrates here in Ohio is very much ahead of schedule. All this after 2011 was one of the hottest years on record. The Climate Change Deniers are generally keeping quiet these days.

It baffles me how there can be anyone who denies that things are out of control. Their fallback position is that even if it is happening, we human beings aren't the cause of it. Sorry, but they're wrong about this as well. The link between our greenhouse gasses and the warming of the planet are well established. This consensus had been reached years ago, but the deniers had been fighting it with what I call the Big Lie. At least in those cases where fossil fuel industry money is behind the notion, it's a Big Lie. I'm aware that there may be a few deniers who simply don't know, or won't accept the truth. But now, as I say, they've piped down.

Surely most non-scientific types have to rely on what they hear from the scientific community. It's too bad that they also hear the 'other side' in the media. What isn't disclosed is that the other side  - the deniers - are almost entirely made up of people with a vested interest in the status-quo.

If we now accept that climate change is indeed happening, and that human activity is the cause, why do we even consider electing politicians who will only add to the problem? There is no shortage of ideas to at least curb some greenhouse emissions. We need more of these, not less. Some politicians want to kill any renewable energy ideas in favor of the narrow-minded, short sighted and short term policies that have gotten us to this point.

Humanity will survive climate change. Even some other species will do so. The planet will actually even recover some day. The only questions are how well, and when. How well will we survive and what quality of life will we have? And when will the planet be able - or be allowed to - recover? Or at least begin to turn things around.

Some day we'll all have to face our grandchildren who will grow up in a world much different from our own. Will we be able to say that we at least tried to keep the planet in decent shape for them?

For more on this topic, see my debate with Dave.

The Long and Shorts of It

If you like this blog, I'm happy about that. I hope you'll keep reading. If you don't, well, sorry.

Back to you folks that do. Naturally, you can read through these new posts as well as the older ones for free. But if you want to see it in book form, and also see some additional stuff that's not included here (because it's older, was intended for a different audience, etc.), you can go to amazon.com and get hold of my new book, The Long and Shorts of It. Please check it out; it's pretty cool.

Thank You. We will now return you to your regularly scheduled blogging.

Smashmouth Running

Here’s the sequence of events – complete with causality - as best I can describe them.

Dan with Angelina Lips

1. I started running about forty years ago. In the process, I also managed to get old. This caused
2. Plantar Fasciitis (PF) every now and then, including the latest bout that began a year and a half ago whilst attempting some speedwork on a treadmill. This caused
3. Slow Disease (SD). SD is insidious in that it enables me to continue running, albeit only very slowly. Time passed, but the SD continued. This caused
4. Disappointing times in races and workouts and general frustration. This caused
5. An attempt at a speed workout on the track about a month and a half ago. It was my first time at the track in months, so the SD was rearing its ugly head. I forged on anyway, and this caused
6. Me to pull something in my butt. It could be piriformis syndrome or some form of sciatica, but I prefer to simply call it Butt Syndrome (BS). This caused
7. Me to change my gait, however little, since I no longer had a full range of motion. This caused
8. Even more SD, and even more disappointing race results. Among these was the Cleveland Marathon of last week. This caused
9. Me to take several days off, something I hadn’t done since my previous debacle, the Jacksonville Marathon. This caused
10. General malaise, but then I actually began to feel a bit better. The PF was subsiding, and even the BS became a little better. Too bad the SD only got worse. All this caused
11. An urge to get out and run again. So I did six on Thursday, took Friday off, and then met up with some friends for a nice little run on the towpath Saturday. The plan was to run from Lock 29 to Station Road Bridge and back for an easy 14-miler. Patti Tomasello and Shari Geiger had turned back earlier, whilst Donna Hofmeister, Dave Gajewski, Jack McDaniel and I continued on to the Station Road Bridge area, took a break and then began to saunter back south to Lock 29. Things were going swimmingly, except for one minor, itsy-bitsy little problem. I still didn’t have full range of motion in my left leg due to the lingering effects of the BS. This caused
12. My foot to find the one board that was one-sixteenth of an inch above the rest, on the small wooden bridge we were traversing about nine miles into our run. This caused
13. Me to stumble forward. This caused
14. Me to grab onto the handrail on the side of the bridge to avoid falling directly, face-first, onto the bridge. This caused
15. Me to swing around to the right, smashing my face - especially my mouth - directly into the side of the bridge, rather than the floor. It also caused
16. Me to twist my butt, further hurting my BS. Naturally I was now flat on my back (how did I get there?) looking up at my friends, who all seemed very concerned (why weren’t they laughing their heads off?) This caused
17. Me to pause. Points 12 through 16 had taken all of a half-nanosecond, but had seemed to take place over hours or days. Now time was passing normally once again. I got up and hobbled back to Lock 29. My friends were nice enough to run slow to stay with me. This caused
18. Me to take some more time off, beginning today.

Cleveland Marathon Race Report in Backwards Order So It Has a Happy Ending

Mile 26.2: I cross the finish line with the clock saying something like 4:07. I can’t remember when I was this relieved to be done running.  It’s by far my slowest marathon ever. I don’t care. I only wanted to stop moving forward. Now that I have, I never want to think about running ever again. There is the usual amount of talking with friends and other runners, and I almost always enjoy this war-stories aspect of racing. But I have to get over to the store, and I’m also in a hurry to get out of the relentless sun. And I’m just about dead anyway. That sun had been as bad as I can remember from any race – even last year’s Another Dam 50K where it was in the mid to upper nineties. I stumble out of the Browns Stadium area as best I can.

It’s an awfully long uphill walk back to the car. I can still hear them: the announcers are saying that there is a heat advisory for runners and that everyone should be careful. I’m thinking, ‘why the heck (except heck wasn’t quite the word) are they saying this here at the finish line?’ I’m also quite annoyed by their poor attempts at humor (“I can’t even drive 26.2 miles!”) Perhaps I was just in a bad mood.

Mile 25.8: Ladd Clifford jumps out of the crowd to jog a hundred meters or so with me. Somehow, in the space of about 15 seconds, we are able to catch each other up on what happened in the entire race: how we each did, how our friends did, the current temperature, etc., etc.

This is a down-hill section on East 9^th Street where I ought to be running real fast. But it’s all I can do to hobble and keep from falling forward and doing a face plant. My mile pace is probably on the order of 15 minutes per mile.

Mile 25: I now realize that I’m not going to make it under four hours. I would need to increase my speed to better than ten minutes a mile, and that’s simply not going to happen. Not when each mile has continuously gotten slower with nothing to reverse the trend. Why was a four hour time important, anyway?

Mile 24: Somewhere around here, I hear from behind, “Had enough yet?” It’s Michelle Wolff, who goes cruising by at her usual steady pace. I can see that she will easily break four hours. And all I need to do is stay with her to do the same. I manage to do so… but only for a while. She gradually fades away into the future. The heat is nearly unbearable. I’m going out of my way to stay in the shady areas, sometimes I’m even running on the sidewalk.

Mile 21: At this point we move away from the lake. From past experience, I know that these next five miles will be the nastiest of all. We’ll be zigging and zagging up and down city streets through industrial and office parts of the city. It’s ugly, but not so bad when you’re running fast. Today I’m most definitely not. But all I need to do is to continue these ten minute miles in order to still finish under four hours. Shouldn’t be a problem.

Mile 20: Almost there! Well, not quite. The clock says 2:55, and I think, ‘things could be worse – all I have to do is nine, or even ten minute miles to finish in 3:50 or so.’ Terry Hawk passes me and says, “To think I used to do marathons that fast!” I reply “me too,” but he’s gone already. We’re out of Rockefeller Park and are now running along the lakeshore. The park was pretty, and this is too in a different way. I had hoped for some sort of breeze from the lake, but there’s none to be had. The water is as calm as it gets. And now I’m out in the sun again.

Mile 17: Moving from University Circle into Rockefeller Park on Martin Luther King Junior Drive, I’m in big-time pain. Every step hurts. This is arguably the prettiest part of the course, and I’m not enjoying it in the least. There’s construction on MLK Drive featuring orange barrels on each side. I run inside them in order to cut the tangents as much as possible. A few friends pass by. I think they can tell that I’m in pain. The only good thing for me here is that it’s shady.

Mile 15: Only about eleven to go. It’s getting tremendously hot, and we’re baking as we run into the sun on Chester. I just ran my first ten minute mile, but that’s only because I stopped to dig a gel packet out of my pocket at the aid station. I’ll get back down to nine-minute miles with no problem.

Mile 13: Hey, I’m half-way! And my time of 1:47 really isn’t that awful. All I need to do is run even or slightly negative splits, and I can still do something close to 3:30. That’s not so bad. The fact that each mile has been progressively slower than those prior doesn’t phase me; I’ll get through this. The half marathoners had split off a bit over a mile ago. It’s now a lot lonelier out here. I smile and wave as I see Chris Ganz and Larry Orwin on the side of the road cheering me on. The only little fly in the ointment is that everything hurts. Or put it this way: there’s nothing that doesn’t hurt.

Mile 10: The enthusiastic 7:59 per mile pace group passes by with hoopla galore. It makes me want to puke. It’s not my first such experience for the day, and I somehow feel that it won’t be the last. A mile or so ago we went up an extremely steep hill that almost killed me. Where did that come from? It wasn’t there last year. That hill caused me to run an 8:41 mile, the slowest of the day so far. Why does every part of my body hurt so much? Gee, I hope there isn’t an association with this pain and my slower pace.

Mile 8: I’ve run the last couple miles with Beth Bugner and Ladd Clifford. Ladd’s back has been bothering him, and he was thinking of dropping down to the half. I almost convince him to just run easy and finish the marathon with me. Almost, but not quite. Peer pressure doesn’t always work with Ladd. Beth on the other hand seems to be surging. Both Ladd and I are having a tough time keeping up with her. Eventually she moves on ahead, with Ladd in tow. I have to ask myself whether Beth is really surging or not. If not, that means that I’m slowing down. I decide not to think about it.

Mile 6: Debbie Scheel passes by and we run a little bit together. She had started back further than I, and had gone out easy. I tell her that she was smart. In my case, I don’t think I’d really gone out too fast. Most of my miles are in the 7:50 range, and I think that this will be sustainable.

Mile 3.5: The early miles have been a whole lot of fun. It seems like all my friends are out here with me, and I’m talking with all of them. The Veterans Memorial Bridge had been as spectacular as always. Edgewater park and neighborhood are great as well. So what if I’m not quite as fast as last year; I’m having fun.

Mile 0: It’s warm already. I’m in the up-front corral along with the 3:10 and 3:00 pace groups. I know I’m not supposed to be here, but I snuck into a barrier opening. I talk with Jeannine Nicholson, and we finally find Ladd Clifford and a few other friends. These starts are always exciting and fun. I can’t wait to get going!

Prior to the Start: The group photo, and even the restroom line in Browns Stadium were fun. Good to see everyone. Can’t wait to get in line and run.

Had enough yet?

By Yourself, Or With Others?

That was always the follow-up question from the priest. There I was, in the confessional, admitting to 'impure thoughts and actions'. My answer to this question was, unfortunately, always no.

But of course here I'm talking about running, which is indeed pure. And as I discuss the subject with my  friends, it appears that some of them can't seem to run alone at all.

This used to strike me as a bit strange. I used to run alone almost all the time. It was mostly only Saturday mornings that were for running with friends. And now it seems that I'm evolving more towards the social running thing. I still do some runs alone, but the ones with friends are much better.

I'll be running with friends next week in Cleveland - about 20,000 of them. Today is the last long run. It'll be on the towpath with friends as well.

Fourth Again

Words cannot express the amount of fun it is to be back in the hunt. I already mentioned this a little in a previous post - Are You a Runner or a Racer? But then it happened again last week. I was running the National Crime Victims Rights Week 5K in Medina (don't bother googling it - it wasn't a huge one), and there I was, not too far at all behind the leaders.

Never mind that it was a tiny turnout. There were probably less than twenty of us. It didn't help that they started the race *early*! No, never mind any of that; I was in the hunt. And I could see the leaders - including Ladd Clifford - the whole time. I even passed someone during the final mile. I even even began catching the leaders.

Never mind that they were caught by a traffic signal (did I mention that it was a tiny race?). Alas, Ladd and the other two still had me. And my time, 22:20, was extremely slow. But I was in the hunt.

This was only a few days after the On My Own Two Feet Marathon. Then over the weekend, I ran fairly far and fairly well, including a decent Saturday treadmill run in Chicago and then two plus Hinckley loops on Sunday.

The fatigue did catch up with me a little bit today. I was pretty tuckered out. At least I'm not in any kind of tremendous pain any more. Pain yes, tremendous pain, no.

Tomorrow I'll be at it again.

Dreaming

I had a dream last night...

I was running Burning River. Surprisingly, it wasn't a nightmare. I was simply running it.

I hate that.

Are You a Runner or a Racer?

Terry Elsey asked this question of me a while back. My reaction was similar to Dorothy's when she was asked by Glinda whether she was a good witch or a bad witch. In other words the answer was, "huh?"

It is a good question to ask oneself however. No doubt you need to be a runner before becoming a racer. And no doubt there's nothing wrong with not being a racer. (In other words, not that there's anything wrong with that!) It's a bit like the difference between a runner and a jogger. It's a state of mind.

By the way, I like the saying I saw somewhere that said, if you don't know whether you're jogging or running, go faster.

I suppose you could say I float between being a runner and a racer. Racing only comes to play during races themselves, when the competitive spirit takes over. This is not to say that you need to be in the hunt for a top spot to be a racer - you may just be in competition with a couple others or even with yourself. Of course here's where the definition gets a little more blurry. More than it was before, even.

All this leads, of course, to the story of my most recent race: the On My Own Two Feet Marathon in Kent.

I had run the first half of the race with friends, some of whom were doing only the half marathon. The race was small potatoes. In fact, there were only twenty-something marathoners and eighty-something half-marathoners. But it was for a very good cause: victims of domestic abuse. The Race Director, Melissa Cairns, felt strongly about the subject, and we were all there to support her cause.

After that first half (it was two loops) in the cold rain, Ladd Clifford, Patti Tomasello, and several others were done, and Bob Pokorny, Beth Bugner and I continued on. The time had been slow by my usual standards - 1:53 or thereabouts, but the trails and mud had taken some toll.

As I pulled a little ahead of the others after the half, it dawned on us that no one was coming the other way (on this 1.5 mile stretch). Beth exclaimed, "hey - we could win a marathon!" When we finally did see someone coming, there was only one of him.

For a while I was in the hunt. At least I thought I was. Reality struck when I was passed by a female on the trails section - at about mile 17. I saw her and the lead guy again on a different out and back section of rail trail. They were, despite my best efforts, still pulling away from me.

The rain never stopped, and the trails became slicker and slicker. This is not to mention that I was also getting tireder and tireder. I never gave up on pushing the pace however. But there could be no doubt that I was slowing down in real terms. Even so, I was surprised again when another guy came from behind and passed me at the end of the trail section, with about a mile to go.

We talked a bit, but no matter what I did, I couldn't stay with him.

I finished as the third male with a time of 3:53. Even though it was a slow time, that competitive racing thing felt great while it lasted.

Now if I could only go back to being a runner long enough to run faster. An hour better would do.

If You Can't Run Well

If you can't run well, then run a lot. That's been my philosophy lately. Last year at this time, I was running well and running a lot. For a long time this year, with this PF flareup thing, the Jacksonville disaster and all, I couldn't do either. Now I'm finally pounding out the miles again, but they're slower than I could ever have imagined running miles could be. And the pain is fairly steady - no better, no worse. But if I so much as think about trying to pick up the pace... the PF lets me know about it. Kent is right around the corner; less than a week away. I ran 17 on the towpath yesterday, and will be doing 2 loops at Hinckley in less than an hour. At least that's the plan. That will give me well over 80 for the week, after 89 last week.

For Kent itself, I have no high hopes whatsoever. I want to get to the finish. Many of my friends are in Boston for tomorrow's race. I wish them luck, and I almost wish I could be there with them.

Serious

I try hard to not take myself too seriously. My running is another matter. I do take that seriously. Unfortunately, sometimes all that seriousness spills over. This can be a bad thing. It's hard to say for sure, but it probably started with my Mohican experience last year. Although I'd already been suffering with Plantar Fasciitis that had begun in January. But the running had otherwise been going well. And I'd had great expectations. The running gods struck me down that time, and I haven't been quite the same since. By the end of 2011, things were beginning to look up once again, and I was doing some serious thinking about my 2012 running. I'd probably do some marathons as well as an ultra or two. Under consideration was the new spring version of our NorthCoast 24-Hour Endurance Run. Just before my first serious race of 2012, the Jacksonville Breast Cancer Marathon, the gods struck again - the PF got bad again. This, just as things seemed to be really coming together in serious fashion. Since then, I've tried to get even only a little serious again. Or perhaps I should say that my running has been getting a little more serious.

Except that it hasn't. The pain is still there no matter how you cut it. I have been slowly (and I do mean slowly) getting the mileage back. But I can't lick the pain. Last week I did 20 in Connecticut, and it didn't go too badly for me. Today I did some Hinckley Hills, followed by some trails for the first few miles of the Hinckley Buzzard 50K Run. It didn't go well. I felt sort of like a misfit; I couldn't do roads well, and trails were even worse. I suppose I need some serious downtime. If I thought that would work, I'd do it. Seriously.

Newbies

They just make me sick. All the hoopla and happiness. Don't they know that they're supposed to be miserable? Yes, I'm talking about all you newbies out there. I went to Columbus (for the Last Chance for Boston Races) with some of you, and also met up with a few others. I had to put up with all the talk about accomplishments and joyful running. I had to cheer everyone on, and act like I meant it. Well I didn't. I'm miserable and unhappy, and I hate running. Everyone else ought to too. . . . Okay, I was kidding. Really. I absolutely love all you new runners, and I love the fact that you're out there accomplishing things. You are invigorating and enriching the sport that I've loved for 38 years or so. May you continue to join us oldies.

Giddyup

Yes, I'm back in the saddle again. It seems that every now and then the running gods strike me down, reminding me of something I've been known to say: there's nothing more miserable than a runner who cannot run. After the Jacksonville disaster, I took a week and a half off. I needed it. But Debbie would tell you that I was bouncing off the walls. Now the PF pain has subsided, at least enough to allow me to run a few miles yesterday and today. I don't know why the running gods do this to me. Do I get too 'uppity'? I do know this much: its a long road back. But at least I'm in the old saddle.

Breast Cancer Marathon / Jacksonville Marathon / 26.2 With Donna

The race has three names, so I listed them all in the title. No matter what you call it, it's a great event for a good cause, and a lot of fun.

Fun, unfortunately, wasn't the first thing that came to my mind for most of the race. We drove up from warm, sunny Sanibel, where we'd gotten used to temperatures in the low 80's for most of the week... and found howling winds with near record low temperatures in Jacksonville. It was 26 at the start, but the wind made it feel much colder.

I met up with Debbie and Michelle before the start. We got into the corral and jumped and ran around to keep warm. I talked with Bill Rodgers a bit. I told Debbie and Michelle that I'd had a bad week of running although I didn't mention my PF problems in detail. I was hoping that I'd have a reprieve for the day.

It was just getting light when we started. I tried to keep up with Debbie, but gave up after the first mile. I then fell in with the 3:20 pace group. I was having difficulty even staying with them. Then I realized that they were running faster in order to take walking breaks. This routine was definitely not going to work for me. So I fell behind them too. It's funny that I've been so speed impaired lately. Maybe it's the PF, but I also seem to be short of breath a lot.

Not that it mattered. My PF began to ache big-time by about mile 3. This is as much pain as ever - even including last year's Mohican run.

The three miles we spent on the beach as the sun was rising were spectacular. And with the hard-packed flat sand, it wasn't overly difficult. For most people, that is. I was in pain at the time. I saw Bill Rodgers again, and we said exchanged pleasantries as he was about to turn off for the half-marathon. I strongly considered turning back as well, but something made me keep going.

As the course took us on beach roads and nice neighborhoods, I was slowing down more and more. Now I was really beginning to wonder if I'd be forced to drop out. It would be a shame to come all this way and wind up with a DNF, but the pain was practically unbearable.

Somewhere around mile 12 an aid station was handing out ibuprofen. I know that taking Vitamin I during a run is a big no-no (and they probably shouldn't be handing them out). But I couldn't think of any other way to get through the run.

Half-way went by in 1:59:30, and I had to push the pace to manage a sub-two hour half. I was starting to think that I'd have to walk the entire second half to hope for a five-hour marathon.

But the pain subsided, a little. This was, however, enough to allow me to keep going and even maintain a nine-minute pace. The math was telling me that I'd have to stay at or better than that pace in order to beat 4 hours.

Mile 20 went by in 3:04. I was cutting it mighty close. Then somehow I actually picked the pace up a bit (only a bit) for the final 10K. I passed Michelle in the final mile and a half, hoping she'd be able to make it under four as well.

I crossed the line in 3:58 and change. It probably tied my Personal Worst time. Michelle made it under the Four-Hour wire as well. Debbie had finished with a very fast time.

They walked, and I limped, for a bit before we got on our respective buses out of there.

This blog has been focused on my own problems. The people who have been through breast cancer, including a dear friend for whom I ran this race, have been through problems on an entirely different level that puts my puny problems to shame. The event itself is a wonderful one on a great many levels. I'd recommend it to anyone.

Now I need a rest. A lot of rest.

Sanibel Sauntering

For some reason, I much prefer loop courses to out and back ones. I suppose this has something to do with the fact that men don’t like to turn around and retrace their steps. And why that is, I’ll never know.

On Sanibel Island, however, there is mostly out and back running. Not all, but mostly. This is especially so if one wants to explore the running up on Captiva Island (separated from Sanibel by Blind Pass, which is also the name of our condominium complex).

During my first run on the island, I slowly made my way up there, crossing the bridge to Captiva after about 30 minutes. Captiva is quieter and more residential. Rich folks type residential. After 55 or so minutes, my PF began to ache a whole bunch. This doesn’t usually happen during a run; even when the PF is really bad, the aching almost invariably occurs whilst I’m not running.

But this time it was so bad that I was forced to turn back. The pain subsided enough for me to make it, and even do a few extra, enabling me to call it 15 for the day.

For my next trick I managed to explore Ding Darling park from the back end. There is a one-way road through the park, and I found myself going into the exit and against traffic (one car the entire time). I stopped to look for gators, but no luck. After going back out I ran down Troon Court. This Troon was substantially ritzier than ours.

You would think that a fairly easy run followed by a day off would allow me to run fast, strong, and/or long. It didn’t. There are only four days to go before Jacksonville, and things are definitely not boding well.

The PF was as bad as ever as I ventured out early Wednesday morning. Even so, I felt like I was doing a pretty good pace as I ran east on the main drag, and then south on Rabbit Road. Then I turned right to go to the end of West Gulf before turning back. This leg took me about 59 minutes, and I was guessing that it was about 7 miles.

I got back faster – something like 57 minutes. I was still hoping it was 7. Then I checked it on gmap-pedometer: 6.2 miles each way. That’s pretty darn slow, considering that I thought I was keeping a good pace. I did manage to run about 3 additional miles for the morning to make about 16 in all. It’s just too bad it wasn’t a faster 16.

My last couple Sanibel runs were on the beach. These weren’t very fast. The PF wasn’t as awful, but it was still there. And of course I’m eating way too much. Way too much. I’m not very confident about Jacksonville.

I Only Fell Once Today

There was a good patch of ice underneath the couple inches of new snow. More importantly, only one person - training partner Dave - saw it happen. That's always my concern when I fall - who saw me?

We're now getting our long lost winter weather. It could still be worse, and it could certainly be colder, but over the last few weeks, often as not, we get a couple inches of the white stuff for the day. Most of the time it melts away fairly quickly, but it's starting to get annoying.

I backed out of the last two Saturday group runs (that I was organizing myself in FB), but I did make it out today. Today the group was just Dave and me. And the snow was bad enough, and getting worse as we went. I could've easily missed this one as well as the others, but I didn't. We made it around the big loop okay, snow covered roads and all. We then ran around the lake in the now deeper snow. Still no mishaps, although we were slowing down due to the bad footing.

It was that last two mile loop that got me. Solid ice - Big fall. And it sure hurt me right in the pride.

In and Out Part Deux

Somewhere in the distant past (maybe a year ago), I blogged about running inside and outside during the winter. Here I go again.

The overly mild winter weather is now gone, and things are back to normal for Cleveland in January. I'd go as far as to say that it could still be way worse. But we are finally getting our fair share of snow and cold. Not that I like it, but I'm not complaining. Wouldn't do any good anyway.

What I am trying to do is to not let it hamper my running. At least not too much. On the one hand, running outside in awful weather helps make us mentally tough. I also prefer not to be too much of a weather wimp (or, if you prefer, 'weather wienie'). But on the other hand, I like to keep at least some quality workouts in my schedule. That's where the mill that I love to hate comes in. So you have toughness on one hand, and quality (read: speedwork) on the other.

What to do? Some of each, of course. I managed to do two pretty good mill speed workouts this week. Unfortunately, the other runs, mostly outside, were pretty poor. They were either lousy because of my fatigue or because of the weather. Perhaps some combination.

The good news is that the sinus infection is cleared up. I've got another day and a half to go on the antibiotics. I'm not in as good condition as I'd hoped for Jacksonville, but it (my current conditioning) will have to do. Things could be worse. Oh yeah. I said that already.

I'm Not Proud of This, But...

...But I ran 27 miles on my dreadmill this morning. I'm almost never proud of my mill runs. I hold on too darn much. I don't step on the mill any more than I have to; it usually (but doesn't always) depends on the weather. I've had days worse mill runs than today however.

During the run I'd actually had thoughts of doing thirty. I suppose 30 would be something I could be slightly more proud of than 27. But three problems arose: 1) I was beginning to run out of time (although I probably could've still done it), 2) There was only the same old junk on TV, and 3) I got a little tuckered out.

The plan before I had started thinking thirty was for twenty-four. Looking at things this way, I suppose you could say that I exceeded expectations.

The plan before I began thinking of twenty-four was to do fourteen. Outside. And now we get to the heart of the matter.

I set it up myself: a fourteen-mile group run on the Parkway - the last part of the Green Jewel 50K. Several had signed up, so it should have been a good, albeit not so long, training run. Naturally, I like to actually show up for the runs that I set up. But I wimped out. Here's why.

Reason #1: the weather. The winter has been so incredibly mild that when we get a little cold and snow - what would have been a good day last winter - we, including me, go a little crazy with fear. I just didn't want to drive on snowy/icy/slushy streets in order to run on snowy/icy/slushy streets. But I still feel a bit wimpish about not making it.

Reason #2: my wellness. Or lack thereof. I came down with a cold the week before Christmas. That's over three weeks ago. It slowly got better, and then proceeded to get much worse right after New Year's Day. The much worse part is when the sinus infection took hold. Running, and everything else, has been a struggle ever since.

Finally realizing that it's not going away on its own anytime soon, as well as after some nudging by Debbie, I went to the doctor yesterday. So today I'm on amoxicillin. And still running, although many of my recent miles were on the mill. Why take a chance on things getting worse when the outside weather's so lousy anyway?

Unproudly moving foward. That's me.

According to Plan

In running as in life, some things go according to plan, and some don't. In both endeavors, it's pretty important that we learn to adapt when the detours occur.

Here's a plan: I'm in a race, and at some point I simply run faster than everyone else and win the whole dang thing. Naturally, this plan is only a pipe dream for all but the very best runners at any given race. And it's almost never come to pass for yours truly.

On Saturday I lined up for the first annual MCRR New Years Eve 5K, looked around, and realized that my competitors were mostly kids and older folks. I found myself running with Bob Pokorny, Ladd Clifford and Alan Dravenstott. Ladd wasn't racing, and peeled off. Alan, who I believe is in the eighth grade, slowed just a bit at the turnaround, and Bob (who certainly could've beaten me if he'd tried) fell back to run with Alan. Suddenly there I was, all alone at the front. What do I do now? With Bob coaching Alan to try to catch me, I had to try to run even faster.

I beat the kid, Bob, and everyone else. It was a great victory. Well, I'll call it that anyway. What made it even better was the PR factor: my time was 17:49; I'd never even broken 18 in a 5K before. How did I manage this feat, you ask? I ran the course Jeannine Nicholson designed, and it turned out to be short by about a half mile. I suppose I can't count it as a PR after all. But it's still a win. And it was surely according to plan.

The plan for Sunday was to run Ladd's 5-mile New Years Day Hangover Run. That was all I was going to do because I'd also had plans to do the second annual Landis Loonies Marathon the next day. But then the weather warnings began.

We've been blessed, so far, with an extraordinarily warm and mostly snow-free late autumn / early winter. Everyone's been remarking about it, many saying things like, "We're gonna pay." When we did receive the weather warnings about January 2nd, everyone, including yours truly, was that much more afraid. The storm warnings didn't sound that dyer - just typical winter stuff. But they were enough to freak everyone out.

I began to think that I wouldn't want to drive the hour plus out to New London Ohio in a storm, just to run a little unofficial marathon. Since I'd be running five with the bunch a little later on Sunday, I decided to hedge my marathon bet and also run earlier with Debbie, Debbie and Michelle. Good to see Debbie Fernandez again. This earlier run amounted to ten parkway miles.

This put me at fifteen for the day. I could still conceivably still run the next day's marathon if the weather held. I'd been anticipating going into Panera at the end of the five as we'd done the previous day after the race. That's when Jeannine suggested that I run another hour with her and Bob.

Not that I've ever had any, but this was against my better judgement. It would eliminate any chance I'd have of running a marathon the next day, even though I'd been leaning more and more against the idea anyway. The extra seven or so miles actually went quite well.

I didn't, unfortunately, feel quite well Monday morning. Nothing special - just sore and tired. Certainly not well enough to run a marathon. And the funny thing was, the snow wasn't so bad. I think I could have made it out to New London fairly easily. But the damage had been done. It turned out that I couldn't get myself to run at all yesterday. So I went from a plan to running a marathon to a goose-egg in my running log.

Today is Tuesday. I ran twenty today to atone for yesterday's non-run. Ten out (in the snow which has finally arrived) and ten in (on the mill). It wasn't the greatest running, and it wasn't according to plan.

3,676

That's the most miles I've ever run in a year. An average of more than ten per day, it beats last year's total of 3,465 by 211. And last year had been the most miles ever to that point by 75. All this becomes (sort of) bad news when combined with my average pace and race results.

My average pace was 8.53 minutes per mile. This is nearly the slowest pace for all the years I have on record. For some reason I managed to run slower (8.7 minutes per mile) in 2009. Last year's average was 8.31, and I thought that was slow.

My best 5K time was about 21 and a half minutes. This compares with times right around 20 minutes in previous years. My best ten-miler was about 71 and a half minutes - several minutes slower than last year. It's the same with the half-marathon (1:33 or so).

Surprisingly, I did manage to run a decent marathon time in 2011: 3:16. This didn't beat my best 2010 time, but it does compare favorably with most of my 'thons of recent years.

I suppose the best news is my ultra times. I ran a 50K PR of 4:24, and actually beat that by a minute en route to my 100K PR of 9:31. I ran some other decent 50K times as well.

So what am I saying here? That I'm running more and running slower? I suppose that's the easiest way to put it. I'd better start hitting the old track.

I Woke Up Lean and Mean

This is noteworthy because I do so fairly seldom these days. But I have been pounding out the miles, even some with some amount of quality. I stepped on the scale and it read.... 154~! That's the best since BT (Before Turkey).

And I ran well too. After a painfully slow start - the first three miles were at 9:30 pace that felt much faster - I did manage to get down to tempo pace for the required three miles. Today, this was four laps around the high school. Something of Substance - Not bad.

Then it was another slow struggle to get home.

Will I be able to keep the leanness and meanness up? Time will tell..