You Got a Lot a Love

This came from an individual who looked like he could be homeless, but who was nonetheless cheering the runners on during the waning miles of the Detroit Free Press Marathon. I had never heard the phrase used in this context before.

 

The Freep in those years – the late eighties and early nineties - passed through some highly questionable parts of Detroit, and this neighborhood was particularly blighted. There were no other spectators, and even the runners were sparse.  At that instant, it was just that one guy and me. He pointed at me as he said it.  I’m sure I was gritting my teeth, grimacing in my usual way. I remember that I was trying hard to maintain the pace that had felt so easy during the early miles, a couple hours prior.

 

Yet it gave me pause. At that point in my race, perhaps almost anything would have. But I like to think that I found some meaning and inspiration there. I like to think that a lot of love is an entirely appropriate description for what I had been experiencing at that moment.

 

The moment I describe here comes to mind as we all decompress after the Medina Half-Marathon. This is a huge and wonderfully successful event for the small town of Medina, Ohio. The dedication, long, hard work, and attention to detail of Race Director Beth Bugner, her immediate organizational team, and all of the hundreds of volunteers undoubtedly requires a lot of love. A real lot of love.

 

A lot of love is also a fitting description of the work that the Medina County Road Runners Board of Directors puts in. This is particularly true of President Angie Kovacs. As I write this, the Board will soon be deciding on positions for the upcoming year, so we could wind up with a different president. Regardless of her position however, Angie puts in gobs of time to institute the framework to ensure that the club activities and events are the best they can possibly be.

 

These folks do it for the love of running, and for the love of their fellow runners. And I think that’s really it. I like to think that I’ve still got a lot of love too. But it’s also good to know that I’m not alone.

Soft

Get thee to a softer surface, say my trail running friends. And I don't disagree. I used to get about a third of my miles on trails, although much of this was on that trail I call the towpath. At the mention of that name, my trail running friends fall all over themselves to be the first to blurt out (think Crocodile Dundee here), "That's not a trail!"

But it is fairly soft, and that's the point.

Why am I thinking soft these days? It's the same old story: the Achilles Tendinitis pain. The level of pain has waxed and waned over the past two years or so, but it's never gone away. Lately I've learned that running fast, relative as that is, aggravates it more than most efforts.

A month or so ago, I was beginning to feel a little better, and I ran the 20-mile drop. Although it hurt afterwards, the pain was manageable. Then I did a couple 5K's. Reaching speeds approaching 7:30 per mile (did I mention that speed is relative?), I felt like I was running quite fast. At least I was moving. But then, the old AT really let itself be known.

Okay, it was time to back off a little. Then, guess what? I started feeling a little better and running a little better, and I followed that up with another 5K a week ago (the Hyland HY-5, 22:49 or so, no placement in Age Group). Guess what? Pain again. Big Pain again.

Now I'm back to slow running once more. And of course that makes me soft, but this is not the point. In fact, I forget what the point was...

Oh, now I remember: soft surfaces. I ran 10 of today's 16 miles on dirt, cinders and grass on the old, almost non-existent track behind the middle schools. Around and around I went, slow and not too steady. At least it was slightly decent mileage.

And guess what? It hurts.

A Fairy Tale: Better. Worse. Better.

Once upon a time there was a boy named Dan. Dan used to be an okay runner, but then he got old and injured (note that cause and effect are beyond the scope of this fairy tale). The injuries lasted for quite some time, but the Achilles pain (the longest-lasting of Dan's injuries) began to subside, little by little. All this happened a long time ago and in a galaxy far, far away.

Feeling a bit better, Dan began to run a bit faster and farther. He even entered a few little races.

But then the Big Bad Pain returned. This time it was Mr. Pain-in-the-butt Piriformis, along with the other villain Achilles Tendinitis. ,.. and Dan was unhappy.

Over the last couple weeks, Dan worked on his exercises in order to keep those bad people at bay. Maybe it's working. A little.

Dan had a nice run with friends this morning in the Chippewa Lake area. Time to pick things up again.

My Watch Thinks I'm...

In some ways, my Garmin 620 thinks I'm really slow. All it sees are my daily slogs where I either a) run very slowly but manage ten or so miles, or b) run much slower still for only a few miles. Occasionally, it sees me running somewhat longer on weekend days. But now that I've done at least a couple races, it can observe some slightly faster running. 'Slightly' being the key word.

A week ago I ran the Victims' Rights 5K in Medina. This free event is tiny in numbers and takes place during a weekday evening. My time was about as expected: 24:30 or so. That's close to Personal Worst territory, but I wasn't totally unhappy with it. One must take what one can get these days, and I would have been happy with anything at all.

And my watch was happier still. 'New 5K PR!', it exclaimed. Since it and I have only been acquainted since mid-January of this year, I suppose that that's about right; I never have actually run faster than that this year.

If it was happy then, it was positively extatic on Sunday, when I ran the Race for Brunswick Blue Pride 5K in 23:19. 'New 5K PR!', it exclaimed for the second time in four days. And once again I felt it was about right. Nowhere near the race times I managed a year back, but one must, as they say, take what one can get.

So yes, my watch thinks I'm slow. I get it. I am. But in some ways, it thinks I'm actually better than I am. I only wish I knew why. It calculates my VO2 Max on an ongoing basis, and it has me at 56 now. I don't know what that means, but it's the best it's been for the year. Good to see that steady improvement. I think it bases it's race prediction times on VO2 Max, although I'm not sure.

My race prediction times are: 19 minutes for 5K, 38 minute for 10K, 1:24 for a half-marathon and 2:57 for a marathon.

I have a lot to live up to.

The Years Have Been Good to You. It's the Weekends that did You In.

The post subject line says it all. This past weekend I ran over 29 miles. That never used to be such a anything speacial for me, but nowadays, in the words of Vice President Joe Biden, 'it's a big f_____g deal'.

Saturday's run on the Towpath with Larry Orwin certainly brought back fond memories. I hadn't been down to the Station Road Bridge area for many months, and it was truly enjoyable to return to this beautiful area, to run on the old Towpath, and to do so with Larry. We ran to Peninsula and back for a total of 14 miles.

Sunday's run with Debbie S., Michelle, Luis and Rick was also just fine. We did the nine-mile loop followed by a couple 3-milers around the lake as well as some other stuff. I topped all that off with a walk with Debbie, Veronica and Malcolm.

All's Well that Ends Swell

So much of how we feel about how we did for any particular run comes down to how well we finish. When I managed that relatively fast sub-eight minute mile at the fifteen mark of Sunday's run, I felt like I would need to run the next (last) five at that pace as well. Despite my best efforts, I did slow back down to eight-plus pace. But those last miles were still among my best for the day.

Therefore, I felt pretty good about the run as a whole. Had I started that fast, and finished with the relatively slow mile splits of my first two miles, I'd have been very disappointed.

It's all how you look at it.

20-Mile Drop

Been a while since I've done a race report. This is primarily because it's been a while since I've done a race. So long, in fact, that I forgot how much fun racing can be.

Together with Michelle Wolff, Debbie Scheel and Donovan Lee, I drove up to Fairport Harbor, where we then caught the bus up (and I do mean up) to Chardon. We would be running down (and I do mean down) from there to the lake in downtown Fairport. Along the way - in the bus and in Chardon, we talked with Larry Orwin, Tim McGinty and other running friends. Some I hadn't seen in  quite some time. I didn't realize how much I missed racing.

We ran around Chardon, then onto an all-purpose trail that took us well past half-way. It was pretty running through the parks and greenways on this picture-perfect day. Temperatures were mostly in the forties, but got up past fifty by the time we were finishing. Running weather doesn't get any better.

Not knowing how I would do for a race this long and this far removed from the types of running I'd been doing, I had started very slowly. I came alongside Tim at mile two, and we chatted a while. Noting that he's in my age group, I picked it up to about 8:30 pace, and started to try to catch Michelle.

I could see her for several miles, but only caught her at about mile seven or so. We stuck together for several more, holding on to that 8:15 to 8:30 pace. Michelle was telling me about a 50-mile race she had registered for, and in my delirious state, I started thinking about joining her for it.

At about mile 13, they were handing out energy gels. I had expected them earlier, but this would work. I then picked the pace up just a bit, even though there were a few uphills to contend with. The course wasn't all down - the biggest uphill was back at about mile 2. I didn't realize how much I'd picked it up until I reached mile 15, and my watch told me I'd done a 7:48. My first sub-eight mile came as a surprise.

We were running on the road through Concord, Painesville and finally into Fairport Harbor. I felt sorry for all the traffic we held up along the way.

Now that I had done one, I wanted to do sub-eight miles the rest of way. Of course wanting to and doing so are two different things. I managed only a low eight-minute pace. Still better than most of the previous fifteen miles, but not as fast as the one.

The finish was fun and exciting. Debbie, Donovan and Larry had all run well, and they were cheering us  all on. Michelle came in a minute or two in after me. My time was 2:46. I found out that I won my age group. Woohoo!

At the Finnish Area

As we ate pancakes and awaited the awards we bumped into more friends, including a big surprise: Patti Tomasello, who had been injured. Just about all of us wound up with some prize, and we posed for a photo by the 'Finnish' monument afterwards.

And how could we drive home before jumping into the lake? Well, I went in up to my knees anyway. It felt good on my Achilles. Of course said Achilles is making me pay today.

On the beach

Soaking that Achilles

Streaker!

If you lived through the seventies, you may recall that streaking used to mean something other than running every day. If someone yelled 'Streaker!', you would expect a naked guy (they were always guys, unfortunately) to be running through some public area. I actually encountered one of those seventies types in a bar. But that's a different story. Now, at least to anyone associated with running, streaking means running consecutive days for some period of time.

I streaked from the end of November, through December, and into January, at which point the reality of our travels intervened. Even that almost didn't matter, but I became a little ill whilst on the ship, causing the miss. If that didn't do it, the trip home would have.

Then when I got home, I picked it up again, running every single day from mid-January, until...

Until Monday.

It was the day after Easter, also known as Dyngus Day in these parts. Our Easter celebration had been Saturday, and the whole family, including Valerie, had been around. Vincent had been sick earlier in the week. He'd been throwing up. First Valerie, and then Debbie and I also began to feel sick by Sunday. Incidentally (or maybe not so much so) I also ran quite well on Sunday morning. Debbie Scheel., Donovan Lee and I did the Hinckley loop in 1:21. That's average or so-so by my old standards, but these days, it's really good - my fastest in many months.

Where was I? Oh yeah. Sick. Didn't feel well on Sunday and again Monday. I suppose I could've done a mile or so, but... I just dindn't feel like it!

And now I've run every day again, from Tuesday through today (Thursday). Yes, it's a new streak. How long will this one last? I like to base future predictions on history. Probably not long at all.

I may be a streaker, but I'm not a very good one.

Sleep Must be an Inconvenience for You

It was the start of my second nine-mile Hinckley loop at 5:30 AM, and since people were asking, I informed them that I had arrived at 4:00 AM and had already completed a loop. And that I had gotten up and out of bed just before 3:00 AM. That's when John Pavlick observed, "Sleep must be an inconvenience for you."

The gang proceeded to leave me in the dust. That was okay - I know the way. So yes, I was the Beetle Bomb, (In case you're wondering about Beetle Bomb, it's something Debbie's dad always used to call the kids when they were late or slow, as in, "Here comes Beetle Bomb". I found this video as the probable source of that.)

Having said all this, I actually ran relatively well today.First loop was 1:28, the second 1:26. I'll take those, Beetle Bomb or not.

Time for a nap.

River Road Run

Cold rain. I hate cold rain. I am running - if you can call it that, as slow as it is - down towards River Road here in Niagara Falls. It would have been easy to nix this cold, damp outside run in favor of something warmer, dryer and even faster such as a comfortable hotel dreadmill. But I think about how spring began yesterday evening after an awful winter - an awful winter that included way too much dreadmill running. I think about how many times I have pined for temperatures even just a little warmer than the single digits (today it was about 37). I even think about that year - yes, an entire year - in the nineties that I spent running entirely outside, based on a self-imposed exile from treadmill running.

Two Marriotts, including ours. An Embassy Suites, a Travelodge and several other hotels. Tony Romas, Margaritaville, Brasa, Outback, My Cousin Vinny's, Applebees, and gobs of other restaurants. Three or so casinos. The Silly-Skylon tower. The place is like Vegas, I think, as I turn onto River Road after descending the big hill away from the glitz. I hate glitz. Now at least it's quieter by the falls. Except, of course, for the roar of the falls. I have descended to a point directly across from the American Falls. It is still partially surrounded by ice and snow, but still pretty despite the cold, the dark and the misty, foggy light rain. I can see Horseshoe Falls about a half mile up river, but I turn the other way onto the walking trail.

Black, hard-crusted snow. And alongside it, black ice. I hate ice. I don't even like it in drinks. I have been running north on the walking path between River Road and the Niagara River, and now that I am getting farther from the glitz and the lights, the icy spots on the sidewalk have become more numerous. So I move onto the street. There is very little traffic at 6am on a Saturday away from town so there really is no danger.

At about 3.6 miles - just where I thought it would be - I come to the Aero-cars. These cable cars travel above a swirling whirlpool area of the river are a touristy thing that we did with Dave and Carol the last time we were in the area, about 12 years ago. I hate touristy. But it was actually ok. For today, this is as far as I want to go. I turn around and head back.

Now the cold wind and misty rain is in my face. I hate wind.

I try to pick up the pace, at least a little. The change is almost imperceptible. I hate running slow.

I turn back up the hill to return to the hotel. I hate hills.

After an extremely long time and not an extremely large amount of mileage, I make it back to the Marriot. I think about how much better it is to run outdoors than indoors. It’s like cats: indoor cats live longer than outdoor ones. But who would want to be an indoor cat, when the alternative is freedom? I think about all this in spite of how I hated everything along the way. I love running.

Debbie and me in our hotel room overlooking the falls

By the American Falls

Doing the Double -or- Well That was Dumb

The last time I did a double (two Hinckley 9-mile loops) was over a year ago. Now I finally did it again. Same old friends, same basic results. Which is to say, I made it. Woohoo.

Not that it was easy. Been a tough winter for sure, but the Achilles injury made it much worse. But now I'm done with the physical therapy, and am incrementally better. So naturally I had to try to ruin myself again. I hadn't run more than 12 or so since January 1, so 18 hilly miles would definitely be a challenge. Turns out that it was a dumb challenge.

My Achilles began to hurt (as much as it ever had) during the last couple downhill miles of my second loop. That's when I also began to berate myself for being so stupid. Everyone else is doing a double. I'm feeling fine, so why not go for it. I've gotta get back in shape. All the things we say to ourselves. You know the talk.

And it kept hurting for several days, resulting in a not-so-great week of running, despite the (finally) good weather.

Now, a week later, I'm back on the road to recovery once again. Maybe I'll try another double tomorrow.

I AM Running. And Don't Call me Shirley.

Of course I'm referring to one of my all-time favorite movie lines. In that case, it was, "Surely you can't be serious," Followed by, "I AM serious. And don't call me Shirley." In my case, I figure the neighbors must see me moving so slowly that they would be reluctant to call what I do, running. Therefore, in my imagination, they are wondering, "Surely he can't be running," and my imaginary retort is the title of this post. By the way, Leslie Nielson's line from Airplane is number 79 on the American Film Institute's list of Greatest Movie Quotes of All Time.

Winter from Hell, Part Too

One would think that something from Hell would be on the hot side, not the cold side. On the other hand, it's conceivable that one may also be able to say that anything coming from There would be arduous to infamous in various ways. Last winter qualified on that level. And now that we're just wrapping up the coldest February on record, this one does as well.

Has there been an impact to your running, Dan (you ask)? Hell, yes, I answer. I'm pretty darn sure that for the past couple months, I've done a larger percentage of my miles indoors than any such period in my running history. Yes, I'm spending more time on the mill, and enjoying it less. They do let me out on some days - usually weekends with friends, and the few days where the weather isn't totally awful. Sometimes I just get mad as Hell, say I'm not going to take it anymore, and go outside regardless of the cold. I did this today, but didn't get far in the sub-zero cold.

And when I do run outside, I'm even slower than ever. Having said that, I do try to push the pace once in a while in hamster mode.

Is there any good news at all (you ask)? Hell, no, I answer. But there is a slight amount of not-so-terrible news. I've just completed my third week of physical therapy, and I can say that my Achilles Tendinitis is incrementally (read: slightly) better. I'm doing everything I'm told by the Physical Therapist (Patti), and by George, it's working. A little.

And for some more not so terribly awful news, March begins on Sunday.

GPS Games: Go Get Great Garmins

I am fully aware that the Post Title doesn't make much sense. Do they ever?

It is true that I am now the proud owner of a Garmin Forerunner 620. The 620 is a step up from the 610, but I am sure that some day they will come up with a 630, and we'll all have to upgrade. They can't fool me.

Having had GPS watches before (a Soleus given to me by friend Jack Reilly, and prior to that a Garmin Forerunner 305), I suspected that like Angie Kovacs, I would wind up having an unnatural love for my 620. And I do. I love the information it provides, even though I never know quite what to do with it. Information, in and of itself, is still, in my mind, a good thing.

Other runners joke that their 620s are smarter than they are. Mine is definitely smarter than me. It reports cadence, vertical oscillation and ground contact time. These metrics are called running dynamics, and according to Garmin, they effect running economy. Who am I to question such a thing? It also tracks heart rate and VO2 Max. It tells me when, and for how long to recover, and can also predict race times. I just can't possibly match wits with any of that stuff. On top of everything else, it even counts steps and can estimate distance, speed, and the rest of the stuff for treadmill running.

Treadmill running is something that I've been doing a lot of lately. Although not quite as terrible as last year, this has become another awful, long and hard winter. That is to say, it's another normal winter, if you consider all those winters before global warming spoiled everyone. Accordingly, outside running has become more challenging than usual. On weekends, I've managed to get out with friends, but for most weekdays, you will find me on the mill.

The 'ole mills are beginning to get to me though. I may have to actually venture outside again someday. Maybe in spring.

If it's Sunday, This Must be Hinckley

About a year ago, I published my list of Hinckley runs, extracted from my running log. If there had been any doubts about my sanity, a quick look at that list will quickly dispell them. This post will be a bit different. It's about what actually happens during one particular Sunday at Hinckley.

It's 5:30 A.M., and I'm only now just trying to pull into the Spillway parking lot. There have been times when I've arrived early (as early as 4), but this is not one of them; 5:30 in the A.M. is just fine today, thank you. I say I am trying to pull in. The road into the park from Bellus is barricaded off. This is a first. I guess that it's because of the snow that has been falling steadily for a couple hours now, although it's remained open during times of more snow than this.

A car just ahead of me is turning around at the barricade as well. It's Frank Dwyer, who is equally flummoxed. We decide to park at the ranger station just down the road. There are already two cars in the lot, and running back to the lot we see Caitlin Oblander and Rick Roman. Over-achievers that they are, they had arrived at 5 to run a three-mile loop around the lake as a warm-up. Now they're cheerfully imparting tales of running on the barricaded/deserted, snow-covered road, since the all-purpose trail's footing was worse.

The four of us, including Fank in his shorts (!), are about to start out on our nine-mile loop, when Debbie Scheel shows up. It occurs to us that several runners may be a little late today due to the snow on the roads. Regulars Jack Reilly and Michelle Wolff would not be among them at all this time. I am surprised that this many made it so far.

The five of us are about to begin running when more cars begin to arrive. It's Cristina Sparks, Rob Lisy and Alan Dravenstott. Once again, the weather had slowed them down a bit. I'm now quite surprised at the showing.

The eight of us start out running up the hill on Bellus. But we don't get too far. Other cars are also arriving. We decide to turn back, trying to get word to everyone to not bother trying to get into the normal parking lot. It doesn't work; everyone tries to make the turn, finds the barricades, and then decides to park back with the rest of us.

This time it's Jeannine Nicholson and Ladd Clifford. They ask us to wait yet another minute for Connie Gardner, who was just behind. I haven't seen these folks here, this early on a Sunday, for many a moon. Ladd and I briefly reminisce about an early morning 24-hour training run we did here a few years ago, in which we did ten three-mile lake loops in cold, icy conditions.

Connie is still getting out of her car as the rest of us begin our run, for good this time. It occurs to me that there is no one - not one person - who's my speed. Well possibly Cristina, but even she usually leaves me in the dust the last couple miles. I consider letting everyone go on without me and doing lake loops, but when I voice this thought, Debbie and the rest reassure me that I won't need to run alone.

Dan running up Effie on a similar Sunday

Heading up Bellus Hill, not to be confused with Effie, I have my doubts. It's oxygen debt almost from the get-go. Bellus is actually even higher than Effie, but at least Bellus is over with rather quickly. We're forced to watch and contemplate Effie for about two miles after turning onto Ledge Road. And of course Effie hits half-way through the run, when one is already somewhat beat up from all the other hills.

Throughout the run, I'm enjoying the conversation, especially with some of the folks whom I hadn't run with for a while. Connie, Jeannine and Ladd are the same as ever, and of course the conversation quickly heads down into the gutter. I suppose I'm partly responsible, but I would never admit it.

We're doing our share of slipping and sliding on the partially snow-covered roads. Ladd says that he would rather run on trails, but I point out that when snow covers roads like this, they're just like trails.

Rick and Caitlin are long gone. Debbie, Alan and Connie pull away on or just before Effie. The rest of us more or less stick together, gathering at the top of Effie to complete the last miles as a group. I am very pleasantly surprised that I've been able to keep up with all these great runners today.

We turn onto Kellogg Road. It has more snow than ledge, and of course it's still coming down. We talk about how some will be heading out for a second loop. I am jealous; it's been quite a while since I've been able to manage that much running. These cold, snowy nine would be plenty for me today.

As we finish up, John Pavlik appears in the parking lot, ready to run with the second loopers. this time the direction would be counter-clockwise. What a bunch of rebels. I start out with them, but I don't go too far before turning back.

Another Hickley Sunday run in the books. Nothing special about this one, but then they're all special in some ways. I am so glad I stuck with this one.

Running in French Polynesia

01-05-15 10m

'The ship leaves at 5, please be back by 4:30,' says the bleary-eyed security guard as I take off running away from the ship in downtown Papeete. Papeete is the capital of French Polynesia, and is located on the island of Tahiti. It's a sleepy little town, especially this early on a Monday morn.

I only have time for about two miles of dodging occasional cars and wild dogs, as well as trying not to trip on the dark, uneven sidewalk, before it's time to get back aboard.

Now it's time to get some relatively serious miles in. The fitness center won't open till six, so I hit the track. The deck is wet from rain and I have to be careful not to slip. Ten laps per mile. Can I hold my sanity together enough to do eighty?

I can and I do. Most of the laps take me about a minute each, but I do pick it up as the run progresses. I dodge around the guy swabbing the deck and the occasional walker. Eventually another couple runners come out, but by then I'm about done. Well done.

01-07-15 10m

Last time it was eighty laps; how hard could one hundred be? The answer may surprise you. Pretty hard. With only ten to go, I am beginning to struggle a bit. What to do? Run faster, of course. I let loose on a scintillating 8:20 miles, my fastest yet. It's still over nine minutes per mile for the entire ten mile run, but all's well that ends well. And pulling into Bora Bora lagoon and anchoring just as I finish doesn't hurt either.

01-09-15 5m

Having a cold here on vacation isn't the greatest situation. But I suppose it beats having a cold at home. I do feel fairly miserable this morning, however, so I start out ultra-slow. Guess what happens then? I taper off. Only five miles today.

01-12-15 5m

That cold turned out to be a sinus infection. It's bad news. Today I did only five, but they were better than the five I did the other day.

01-13-15 10m

Still have the infection, but this wasn't quite so bad today. I begin my run pondering the stars and dancing around the guys swabbing the deck. Soon it begins to get light, and I am treated to a spectacular sunrise. I also notice that the ship, moving towards Rangiroa, is nearly surrounded by rain.

Of course there are rainbows. The deck swabbers are gone, and a few runners and walkers have now joined me; I am no longer alone.

I also pick up my pace a little. Now I am at and sometimes below nine-minutes per mile. I finish strong - infection be damned.

Who says running around in circles - even 100 of them - is boring? Even 380 total for the trip.

To read about the trip itself, including a link to the photos, click here.

Well Here's Mine

It seems that everyone's posting year end summaries, so here's mine. It sounds like one of my race reports: I did okay for a while, and then the wheels fell off. Even my 'okay' running wasn't as good as last year's, but it sure beat not running at all for two months in the summer. I'm doing just slightly better these days. Finishing BW50K was an accomplishment.

2,074 miles for the year (the least since 1987). Total time for this madness is 13 days, 4 hours, so my average pace per mile is about 9:10 (the worst since forever). But the best part about the year is doing this along with all my running friends, new and old. MCRR is the best. And 2015 can only get better, right?

Twelve Good Miles

When discussing our anniversary, and/or how long we've been married, I'll often say, "we've had ten good years of marriage." And then I'll add that we were actually married in 1975. The math speaks for itself. I did run twelve good miles today, but it's too bad that the length of the run was eighteen.

The three-forty-five A.M. alarm came early. After figuring out where I was and who I was, I also remembered that it was Christmas Day. I also remembered that I was about to do a long run, since that's what I do on Christmas; at least some Christmases. I've actually had some epic 20 to 25 milers in the cold and snow on Christmases past. I'd be happy if I could get 18 on today's relatively mild (about 37F with very light rain/snow and wind) Christmas Day.

Why so early? Well, it takes time to run that far, especially at my slow pace. And I had committed to meeting women in dark places once again. This had been the topic of conversation at last night's Christmas Eve Party. Today it would be Brunswick Lake at 6 A.M.

The lake is about two and a half miles from my house, but I take a four-mile route in order to avoid running on route 303. After a slow start, I gradually picked up my pace, getting to the lake in time to do one loop before Lisa Eliason and Debbie Scheel showed up.

The path around the lake is exactly one mile long. We did five loops together, and then Lisa had to leave. Debbie stayed to do two more, and those were the fastest of the bunch. I would then do two additional lake loops before heading back home.

But those two were much slower. And the final four were slower still. My Achilles was hurting badly, but I'm not entirely sure whether that's the cause or the effect of the slow pace. I hadn't felt it at all for the first twelve.

I'm going to have to do something about this pain thing.

Zero Dark Thirty, the Run

It's necessary to clarify the post title. We're not talking about Zero Dark Thirty, the Book, or Zero Dark Thirty, the Movie. No, this is Zero Dark Thirty, the Run. If I understand the term correctly, a Zero Dark Thirty Run is any run that occurs extra-early in the morning. Brian Rosenstock uses the name for the runs he organizes in Brunswick on Tuesday and Thursday early mornings.

Did I say early? How does 4:30 A.M. sound? I joined the group for the first time today, sort of on a whim. Whilst preparing to run from home (which is rare these days since I usually run when I get to work), I found myself exchanging Facebook messages with Patti Tomisello at about 4:10. She informed me that she was about to meet up with the group when I wondered what in the world she was doing up. I wound up running towards Brunswick Lake and almost literally bumping into the Zero Dark group as they came towards me in the early morning darkness.

Today's group consisted of Brian, Patti, Caitlin Oblander and about six women that I didn't know. We moved at a brisk pace up and down route 303, and then did several Brunsick Lake loops at an even brisker pace.

For my part, it was good to be able to keep up, especially after those last couple days of stinker-type runs. Once again, taking a vitamin I pill the night before helped.

TW3

TW3 is the abbreviated name of an old TV show called, That Was The Week That Was.  It was a 1960's funny show about the news, not too dissimilar to the Daily Show and SNL's Weekend Update.

Since this blog is about my running, I suppose I ought to explain a bit further. Yes, I had a pretty good week of running: a couple ten-milers mid-week, and then eleven in Brecksville yesterday and thirteen at Hinckley today. So I'm getting the miles in. The best part is that my pace is also generally improving. I now average around nine-ish, and sometimes I can run somewhat, though not a lot, faster than that.

Although it was a good solid week by modern standards, I still have a ways to go.

BW50K, and Some Potential Subtitles

The main start of the BW50K.      John McCarroll photo

I ran the fifth annual Buckeye Woods 50K on Sunday, November 30, 2014. For the title of this post, I had planned to also add a subtitle. But then I started to come up with too many. So instead I decided to list them all here in the body of the post.

Here they are, in absolutely no particular order, along with explanations...

 

Subtitle 1: Falling for the Course

I double-dog-dared myself to fall when I told Ron Ross that I most likely had run this course more than any other person on the planet, and that I had never fallen, even once. The reason I believe I hold this distinction (most runs, not not falling) is that I've run all four previous BW50K's, and also several training runs. So guess what? I fell on the very next loop. It was right where we never expect to fall, but so many of us do. I'm talking about the section where we turn onto the pine path out and back section. Yes, there are roots under those pine needles. And then I fell once again on the last loop, just for good measure. Nothing was broken either time. Except my pride, of course.

One of the early loops with John Pavlick and his daughter Katie.
I don't know the doggy's name. Photo by John McCarroll

Subtitle 2: I am the Reason I Could Run at all

Yes, the reason is I. Ibuprofen, that is. It's sometimes referred to (by runners, of course) as Vitamin I. I take some on occasion, trying hard to not ingest more than three or four tablets during a week's time. And I almost never take even so much as one before or during a run. But what with all my recent problems, including pain in both feet these days, I took a couple I's the previous day, and also some today before and during the run. And yes, I think that was a major factor in being able to run at all this day.


Subtitle 3: We Almost Cancelled it

Having made the promise that the weather was guaranteed or your money (it's free) back, new RD(she took over from I founded and directed the race for four years) Suzanne Pokorny and I almost cancelled the race. It was 61 degrees, for Pete's sake. The weather most definitely did not cooperate for this event for the past years. I wanted to announce that today's run would still be held, even if the weather's nice. Which it was. We did apologize to anyone who would listen,


Subtitle 4: A Timely Start

About eight of us took the 7:00 am early start option. Early starts are generally supposed to be for folks who may need extra time to complete the course. While that really wasn't a concern for some of use, it was for others. Including me.


Subtitle 5: Not the PW

There wasn't any kind of cutoff, and with the shape I was in, I really didn't have a time goal. My 50K Personal Worst time of 6:30 (at Buckeye Trail about 12 years ago) did loom however. After averaging roughly ten minutes a mile for my first three loops, I actually picked it up for the fourth. It helped to have Renee Harden as a companion for that one. She had won the 25K by averaging about 7:10 per mile, and then did a cooldown 5 miles at a somewhat slower 9:30 pace with me. Then it was time to gather my wits and change my shoes for the final ten miles. I knew they'd be slow, and of course they were - something on the order of 12 minutes per mile. I was extremely lucky to have two companions for these laps as well, however: Michelle Wolff and Maureen Oblander. We completed the fifth lap and began our sixth in 4:59. I suddenly realized that a goal of sub-six hours had been thrust upon me; I had an hour to run these final five. Looking at my watch with about a mile to go, I mentioned to Maureen and Michelle that we could do it, but we'd need to book. And book we did. I pulled ahead for that final sprint (such as it was), but all three of us made it in 5:59.


Subtitle 6: It Didn't Kill Me

Of course I was tired and sore. And of course my injuries hurt. But I remained vertical, and as of a couple days afterwards, I remain away from the morgue.

Yes, it really was warm out there. This was somewhere in the middle of the run.
That's Caitlin Oblander, on the way to her first ultra, with me.  Photo by John McCarroll

Giving Thanks to the Grand Old Deity

Today is the day we're supposed to give thanks, so I'll give it a go.

Thanks to the Grand Old Deity - for this new pain. Yes, the agony in my right foot wasn't enough, so I got the one in my back. And just as that has been subsiding, just in time for Thanksgiving, just in time for Sunday's Buckeye Woods 50K, I've become blessed with a brand new affliction, this one in my left foot.

It hurts a great deal. I began hobbling last night during our pre-Thanksgiving Wednesday night family gathering. Hoping that a good night's sleep would help, I didn't give it too much thought as I went to sleep last night. But when I got out of bed this morning, I... wait for it ... could hardly walk at all.

This pain is different from the Achilles pain in my right foot in that it's on top and a bit towards the outside of my left foot. But it's similar to the other ache in that it causes me to hobble like Grandpappy Amos.

I did make it to the early morning run with friends, and the pain actually eased slightly during the run. My new hope is that if it feels better after six miles, it ought to feel just wonderful after thirty-one on Sunday.

Things can only get better. Where have we heard this before? Probably right here in a previous post.

So thanks, Deity of Mine. But next time, how about if you give someone else a reason to say thanks?

My Month of Training

The back continues to improve; the Achilles continues to not improve. As before, I continue to try to run through it, but the weight continues to be up in the stratosphere, and I continue to be one of the slowest land mammals known to man. That pretty much sums up the continuing adventures of my semi-recovery.

At least I’m running farther. I’ve hit around 50 miles for each of the last four weeks. And I’ve been able to manage three twenty-milers in that time. Some of the long runs have been at Buckeye Woods Park, where I’ll be going for a finish at the annual BW50K run this Sunday. What with as slow as I am, I have no time goal whatsoever; I only want to finish.

I also didn’t have much of a time goal for yesterday’s 5K here at lunchtime at work. It was great fun, and I was actually happy to be able to run at about eight-minute pace. Yes, I know that’s painfully slow, but it’s not as painful as not running.

Tomorrow’s training will involve turkey and large quantities of other food and drink. Should be just what I need for Buckeye Woods.

I Think I Can

The Little Engine That Could - that's me. Yesterday I shuffled around the Buckeye Woods lowlands 1.4 mile loop four times and then some, in order to have about seven when the Big Kids arrived at 6:00 a.m. Then I ran two of the five-mile loops with them, followed by another very slow three at the end. If my math is correct - and my GPS will back me up on this - that makes 20 miles.

Twenty miles is longer than any run I've done this year. It's the longest since last year's BW50K. And that's ironic, since that's where this run occurred, and it's also where I may try another 31 miler in a few short weeks.

This training run had been a test, and I guess I passed. Not that the running wasn't slow. It was. Especially that last painful mile. I say painful, as that should be a caveat to this whole thing. My Achilles is killing me. It's as bad as ever.

So I don't really know whether or not I'll go for the whole enchilada at BW50K. But I think I can.

Dreams and Reality

I'm running with the lead pack. It's kind of a goofy race, because we've come to a building with a glass front, and we've got to get through the door and up some stairs before continuing to race back on the roads. My friend Dave Gajewski is among the other runners that I'm running with. I feel good enough to take a lead on the stairway, and as we get back on the road, I accelerate and power on in to capture the Big Win. I haven't won a whole lot of races in my time, and to do it at my advanced age is icing on the cake.

I'm running in the park in the early morning darkness. I started fairly slowly, and slowed further for the uphill mile, but now I try to pick up the pace. I can't. My Achilles Tendinitis hurts so bad that I'm almost limping, and this prevents me from running with any kind of efficiency. I do finish the run, but it is most definitely not pretty.

Both runs happened within a few hours of each other. Guess which was the dream, and which was the reality.

Magic

I was having an awful run. I'd started slow and was getting slower and slower as I trudged through the park in the early morning darkness. I wasn't too upset though - I'd had two relatively decent runs the day before - a morning seven, and an evening four, all at a decent pace. But now I was paying the price. I was just plain tired, and my AT hurt.

Then the forest began to glow. I was on the final path back when I noticed it. The pinkish/orangish sunrise, combined with the beautiful autumn leaves made the entire world look magical. In order to see it all unfold, I turned back to the east, directly away from the direction I needed to go in order to get back. Being so tired and sore, this was indeed a run that I needed to get finished.

Yet I didn't even think about the pain and fatigue for that instant when I made the decision to turn around. You don't get to witness magic every day. And this was the real deal. Worth every step in the wrong direction.

Only days when you run.

Imperfect Ten

Ten miles, ten-minute pace.

The attempt at recovery continues. Most of my runs are at about ten-minute pace, and my longest ones, which I do two, or sometimes three times per week, top out at ten miles.

I was going to add the usual caveat: but they haven't been pretty. But a couple of them really weren't all that bad. Like the time I was working hard to get my pace down to nine-thirty, and I suddenly literally run into Dave Gajewski in the park, switch directions, and then start doing eight-thirty miles instead. Or the time I witnessed a bright pinkish-orange morning sunrise, giving the already red and orange foliage a positively beautiful glow and lighting up the whole park.

The non-pretty side is that I still have the back pain, the leg pain and the Achilles pain. And now I'm getting a cold. So I did today's ten on the mill.

Maybe tomorrow will be a bit less imperfect.

Dem Splits be Negative

It's about 7:10 AM, and 35 and a half minutes into my run as I hit the turnaround point. It's a beautiful, cool, clear morning for my seven-mile run in the park. Assuming I can make it back, this will be my longest run - by one mile - since the injury. And at this 10-minute pace, it'll also be my speediest.

For the first time since the injury I've somehow developed a time goal to go along with the distance goal. Sub-ten-minute pace is nothing to sneeze at. Maybe one to blow your nose at, but not sneeze.

I am able to run some miles in the 9:50's, and then finish up with a 9:28 for an overall time of 1:10 on the nose (which is not sneezing or blowing at this point).

After not running at all for so long, and then only being able to do a couple painful ones, this run was most encouraging. I was probably inspired by NC24, which took place just a couple days before. All that work race directing, and all that lack of sleep didn't kill me after all.

Rather be Running

180 steps per minute, no matter how fast or slow you go. It's a tough thing to do, especially since my normal inclination is to move my feet much more slowly. But now I'm counting my steps, moving the old legs as fast as they'll go. Counting the right-foot-forward movements, trying to get up to 90 of those in 60 seconds, I begin by dividing things up. I try for 45 in 30 seconds, 30 in 20, and so forth. The pain in my back, my left leg, my right Achilles are all a distant memory. Did I mention that I'm gasping for air? That's my concern at the moment, and it's so much better than dealing with pain. This is anaerobic exercise to the hilt.

Okay, that was yesterday, and it was in the pool.

I've been hitting the pool regularly, swimming and pool-running, and I'm sure it's doing me good. At least it feels good, and it's certainly better than nothing on one side, and hurting myself further on the other. And I'm doing other stuff too: more weights, pull-ups and core work than ever. It's all good. But there's one problem: it's not running. I'd rather be running.

Today's workout is beginning slowly. I put one foot in front of the other and begin moving. It's not too painful, so I begin moving a tiny bit faster.

This time I'm outside, running on terra firma, and loving it. I'm in the park, noticing the deer, the dark woods, the fields of goldenrod, the sunrise.

The run was just a shuffle, and it was only for a distance of two miles. And it was painful. But it was a run.

Aquarunning II (This Time It's Serious)

I'm no longer the Aquarunning Virgin I was a couple days ago. I discovered that the Rec Center actually keeps several aquarunning vests on hand for people in need. Like me.

Now I aquarun for twenty minutes. That's nineteen more minutes than I could do the other day, sans the belt. And I count my steps. I had read that one should aim for 180 steps per minute - about the same as for running at a good cadence.

It actually seems pretty easy. That probably means that I'm doing something wrong. Contrast that with swimming. I know I'm doing that right, because I can't hardly go more than a half-lap without a huge amount of huffing and puffing.

The best news is that I'm slowly getting better. I still have good minutes and bad minutes, but generally more of the former and less of the latter. I'm hoping that pattern holds.

Aquarunning

Silly me. I thought that in order to do water running, you just get in the water and run. Turns out there's a little more to it.

As a proud new member of the Brunswick Recreation Center, I showed up for the first time today. Having never been a strong, or even a mediocre swimmer, I could only manage four laps. This is 25% more than the three laps I did a week or two ago in the Mayfield pool. I hope to increase my capacity by another 25% or so before long.

Still out of breath from that swim, I went over to the open deep end and tried to run. I wondered about whether water runners used some sort of flotation device, and if so, what. But I figured that if I tried it without such a device, I'd get a better workout.

Well I did do plenty of huffing and puffing. But not for very long - only a minute at a time in three intervals. You see, not being a good swimmer is related to not being a very good water treaderer. And those are both related to not being very boyant. In fact, I can't float at all - I just sink like a rock. So yes, I'm getting good aerobic workouts, but not long ones.

Then I googled aquarunning. I guess I have to get an Aquajogger flotation device, and follow all the guidelines for doing it right. Maybe then I'll be able to go more than a minute.

So instead of aspiring to run something like a marathon or an ultra, now my goals are to swim five laps and to aquarun for two minutes. Think these goals are attainable? Or am I biting off more than I can chew?

Good Minutes and Bad Minutes

How are you doing?

I get that question more often now that I'm experiencing these physical problems. Friends and family are genuinely concerned about my welfare, and sincerely wish the best for me. I only wish I could provide an answer that wouldn't evoke further sympathy. I really don't want sympathy; as a runner, I really want respect from non-runners, and fear from other runners. But none of that will happen anytime soon. I do try to appreciate the affection and concern that I do receive.

Those of us who suffer from various maladies will sometimes answer the question with, 'I have good days and bad days.' For various reasons, it's often quite true; I've been known to say it myself at times. But as of late, I've modified it a bit. To be slightly more specific, I've been explaining that I have good hours and bad hours, and now it's even more granular: good minutes and bad minutes.

Being in pain means less work getting done. It means not being physically able to do the things that one formerly took for granted. It means thinking of precious little else than the pain iteself. Having good minutes and bad minutes means that sometimes that pain is all-encompasing, and other times I feel almost normal. And these moments seem to wax and wane at surprisingly brief intervals.

I would like to be able to say that the pain is subsiding a bit. I continue to try to strengthen my back by various careful exercises, to be otherwise careful and to take ibuprofen as needed. But I'm not entirely sure how it's really going. All I can say for certain is that this is a good minute...

Since I've already touched on this subject at least once, I promise to not waste too much more of your bandwidth, other than possibly another update in the next week or two. Then I'll start the big push.

The Most Miserable Creature on the Planet

In case you haven't guessed it yet, I'll fill you in. The Most Miserable Creature on the Planet is, naturally, a Runner Who Cannot Run.

I realize that there are billions of people on this planet whose lot in life is financially, physically, emotionally, or some otherly way less fortunate than mine. So I'll be careful to not wallow too deeply into my pit of self-pity. But dad-burn-it, I love to run, and I can't.

Runners who can't run probably think about running more than runners who can run do. Runners who can't run see other runners and become immediately, ridiculously jealous, thinking, "*I* should be doing that!" Runners who can't run self analyze their injuries to death. Runners who can't run try to do cross-training, but whilst doing those other activities, can only think, "I should be running instead of this." And so on.

I did get a diagnosis, based on an MRI: a herniated disc between vertebrae l4 and l5. The initial message from the doc (I have a full appointment next week), is that it isn't impacting any nerves, and can be treated with pain management. *My* initial reaction to that is, if it isn't impacting any nerves, then WHY THE HECK CAN'T I STAND, SIT OR DO ANYTHING ELSE WITHOUT EXCRUCIATING PAIN??? But I suppose that she meant that it could be worse, and I we don't need to consider anything drastic at this point.

The best news is that although I still can't run, and can hardly even walk, the pain seems to be slowly subsiding, at least a bit. Drugs help.

My strategy going forward is to eat even more than I did when I was running 50, or a year or two back, 70, miles per week. I'm getting fatter already.

And the misery has only just begun.

Canton Football HOF Enshrinement Festival Pigskin Run, or, Eighty percent of success is showing up

Woody Allen's quote, Eighty percent of success is showing up couldn't be more true than for old geezers like me who drag themselves to races.

I've never been in more pain than I have over the last week or so. I can't even explain it; it seems to be deep in my bones, especially my back and pelvis. As of yesterday, I stopped using the nitroglycerin patches on my Achilles tendon, thinking that they could be the cause. I'll give it a couple days to find out. Of course my Achilles pain is still there as well.

Just running at all is a problem. I spent almost the entire the week on the mill, with the thought that if I got to the point where I couldn't continue, at least I could step off the thing. But I still drove to Canton for this race that I'd stupidly pre-registered for.

It was warm and very humid - about like it was for my last race, the Johnnycake Jog two weeks ago. That one wasn't as bad as it could have been. This one was.

I did about 7:30 pace for the first three and a half miles, but then fell apart and  finished right around 39 minutes. The funny thing is that I placed third in my ancient age group. Not so awful for such a big race. I guess it helped to just show up.

Tales of The Kid, Part 2 - When Did You Get it?

The Kid arrives at Lock 29 at 6:30 AM, just like he did two weeks ago. This time it's raining and the Towpath is full of puddles as he begins his run with a few early-birds. The group only does a quick mile and a half out, before turning around and heading back.

Now The Kid has more company.There are about ten MCRR friends hanging around, waiting for an additional two tardy traveling teammates. And waiting. And waiting.

The Kid enjoyes this friendly banter as much as anyone, and The Kid doesn't like to leave anyone behind, even at the start. But The Kid needs to run soon so that The Kid can get done. He's due at the store at ten, which means that he has to be done running by 9:30, which means that he needs to start running before 7:20 in order to get the planned additional fourteen (including pit stops) in.

Figuring that it's the only way he can get his mileage in, The Kid very reluctantly begins to run by himself. He considers simply running out and then back again, and has actually turned back, when he sees Dave Eliason running towards him. Dave was feeling the same way. They run together for a while, hit the rest rooms and then hook up with more of the gang. Depending on the running mates at any given moment, the pace varies wildly. But The Kid is okay with that.

The rain is coming down harder, but eventually Dave and the Kid wind up running the final four or so miles with Renee Harden to wrap things up. Renee isn't feeling well, which means that she isn't pushing the pace beyond means considered reasonable by The Kid these days. The Kid finishes with 17 miles in a fairly reasonable time. Not bad for a wet Saturday.

But that's not quite the end of the story. The Kid goes to work, then home, then to a wedding that Saturday. Sunday morning his back is absolutely killing him. He can't quite figure out why or what he did. It's not as if he needed another physical (or mental) malady, but there it is.

Good thing The Kid had already been planning to not run on Sunday, because he can hardly walk. Sitting, standing and laying down cause extreme discomfort as well. That doesn't leave much.

The bad back is now close to seven days old. Which reminds The Kid of an old Three Stooges joke:

Stooge 1: I have a weak back.
Stooge 2: When did you get it?
Stooge 1: Oh, about a week back.

Johnnycake Jog - Belated but Brief Race Report

In short, I got what I deserved. 37:40 for fourth in my ancient age group. Nevertheless, all in all, I had fun. Pam Cato, Renee Harden, John McCarroll, Chip Jenkins and I drove up there, and we all had fun and ran well.

(Well, in my case, as well as could be expected).

Tales of The Kid, Part 1, July 5, 2014 – an accidental long run

The Kid shows up at Lock 29 in Peninsula on time. He is surprised to see that running partner Dave Gajewski is already there and ready to run. The two get off to a timely start.

 

The morning is unseasonably cool. The Kid is slightly beat up from the previous day’s Twin Sizzler 5K race. But he has begun runs in greater states of soreness than this. His Achilles Tendonitis hurts, and everything else does too. But he thinks he can handle the pain for these first three miles with Dave, as well as for the next ten with the entire gang.

 

That first mile truly is slow and painful. But then the conversation changes to politics, the pain subsides, and the pace picks up. It seems that the Kid’s Dander is up a bit. By the time they return to Lock 29 he hardly believes that they’ve got three preliminary miles under their belts. The crisp air is very comfortable for running.

 

Ten to twelve Medina County Road Runners have made their appearance for the planned ten-mile run. The Kid introduces most of them to Dave, and soon they’re all off once again. It occurs to the Kid that he’s got more than ten years on the next oldest runner. Although the Kid has forgotten any aches and pains he had when he began, he still feels a little bit elderly as he tries mightily to match the pace of these youngsters. The planned (by Keith Johnston) ten minute per mile pace has gone south of nine, and is approaching eight and a half, and the Kid is working hard to keep up. But he manages somehow.

 

The gang is running north on the towpath, along the beautiful Cuyahoga River, and it’s as nice as a day can be. The scenery is stunning and the park is practically sparkling.

 

At five miles north of Lock 29, the gang comes to a sudden stop. A conversation ensues as they debate whether some should simply keep going or head back to Peninsula in order to run back out for a few more. It appears that Caitlin Oblander, Christy Gnat, Patti Tomasello, Brian Rosenstock, Rick Roman and Renee Harden had been thinking of running fifteen or so, and have now decided to keep right on going past Station Road Bridge in Brecksville.

 

Now that the decision to go on has been made, the Kid has a choice of his own to make: keep going with this ambitious bunch, or turn back with the practical people, happy with thirteen for the day. After a small verbal nudge from Dave, the Kid finds himself continuing on in the northerly direction.

 

At this point the pace continues to quicken, and the Kid notices that his GPS is now squawking about a few sub-eight minute miles. Conversation, not to mention breathing, becomes more difficult. He mentions to Brian that the return trip may be tough. In other words he says, ‘we’re gonna pay.’ Brian, huffing and puffing a bit himself, agrees.

 

They pass the Brecksville eagle nest and decide to stop for a look. The path from the towpath to the river (the nest is on the opposite side) is short, and they think they may see a white-headed eagle inside the nest. But no one is sure. Everyone nevertheless enjoys the interlude. Other pit-stops are made at Brecksville and Boston Store.

 

At some point the group gets split up, but all are running well. Even though the Kid is feeling the miles and slowing down a little, the conversation with Dave and Caitlin in the later miles, not to mention the great scenery and fantastic weather, keeps him going.

 

As they finish up, the Kid has something on the order of eighteen and a half miles in, and he enjoyed every one of them. He thinks, not for the first time, that running, and indeed life in general, are wonderful.

 

Probably just a stupid runner’s high. He’ll get over it.

Medina Twin Sizzler

I ran only the 5K this year. Most years I do both that and the 10K.

Beforehand, everything hurt. Besides my AT pain, it seems like everything else does as well. And it's not from over-doing things in the running department. I wish I knew what it was. Debbie says it sounds like the Vitamin D deficiency she had a while back. I've increased my intake.

Back to the race. It was nice and cool in the 60s as Veronica and I rolled into Medina. She was doing the third of her four required (for a nice award by her company) 5K's for the year. It was nice to see everyone before the start. I love it when the square comes alive.

The race went about as expected: my pace stayed pretty much within the 7:00 to 7:18 range. I ran a tiny bit faster than my other 5K's for the year, but this one's a wee bit short. At least the pain subsided enough for me to run. Then of course it came back. With a vengeance.

I finished in 21:54 and won the geezer age group.

Diving for the finish line. Photo by John McCarroll

Running in Costa Rica II: This time the Monkeys Get Me ~ A Chronicle of my Running in CR During Our June, 2014 Trip

An Early One

The 04:00 AM watch alarm goes off and several things happen at once:

1) I wake up. This is not to say that I haven't already been running for forty minutes. Just that I come to the realization that I'd better get moving in order to get back to the hotel to shower and eat before the 4:50 AM pickup for the trip up to Monte Verde.
2) I do some quick math and determine that I probably only have about a mile of my five-mile loop here at Hacienda Pinellas which surrounds the JW Marriott Guanacaste, Costa Rica. So I ought to make it. You know the loop. It's the one I ran so many times last time we were here.
3) The lightning strikes much closer. It had been all around me since I began, yet the sky right above had been clear, and the full moon had been lighting the way. Along with the distant flashes of lightning. Now it wasn't so distant. Another reason to get moving.
4) The howling starts.

Whereas last time I was fairly well spooked by this (click here for that story), this time I just think it is really cool. The low, unearthly sound gradually builds into a groundswell of noise. Think of a T-Rex stomach growl. I can't tell whether it's coming from the trees just above me, or a mile away. I only wish I could spot some - the moon is full, but the howler monkeys are staying well hidden in the trees.


A Longish One

The goal today had been 16 to 19. That's three five-mile loops, plus the distance to/from the hotel for a mile, plus whatever else. For a while there things had been going swimmingly; but my achilles began to ache as I finished my second loop. This third one has been a real struggle, and I've slowed down considerably. Spotting a dead coral snake that wasn't (it's colors were in the sequence, yellow, red, black, meaning it was a friend of Jack - a false coral snake, instead of black, red, yellow, meaning it will kill a fellow) I stopped for a long examination to give myself a much needed break.

With only a half-mile of this final loop to go, I hear some howler monkeys again. No big deal; I've been hearing them since I began at four. For some reason, this time they show themselves. The lead male - I can definitely see that he *is* a male - jumps from a tree to an electrical utility wire right above me, howling all the while. About ten of his friends are jumping around in the trees just behind him.

It was all worth struggling for.


A Short One

Only three this day - all I'd have time for. Considered taking the day off, but running's just too darn good here to miss a day.

Case in point: as soon as I started out in the rain, the sun began to rise and I saw a wonderful rainbow. As if there's another kind. Then I saw the howlers again, and once again they were in the trees and on the wires right above me, howling away. And finally I looked down and noticed the caterpillars. Hundreds of them. Maybe they come out in the rain like earthworms do in our neck of the woods.

A (little) Better One

Short on time once again, I'm trying to hoof it. The pedal is to the metal as I complete my first loop in 45 minutes. Dang. I can't seem to break that 45 / 9 mpm barrier. Maybe for the second loop?

The hurry today had to do with monkeys. Debbie and I were to drive, then walk a short distance from the JW to try to spot them where I had for the previous two mornings. Those had been at about 6:00 AM, so that was the goal hour today.

I complete my second loop in... wait for it... 44:40. Speediest run yet.


A Not So Great One

It's my final run here at Hacienda Pinellas and I had planned to do another 16-miler. The first loop was excruciatingly slow - about 49 minutes. Hey, I think, maybe I can reverse my performance from a couple days ago - run my best at the end for a change. What a concept. Too bad it didn't work. I did run a decent second loop in a bit over 45 minutes, but then I simply quit. I blame it on my achilles, but chafing and dehydrations were factors as well.

No monkey sightings. I did manage to live in order to run another day.


A Final One

I could’ve also called it a steep one – this would be my one and only run in Punta Islita, and the hills are real here. I spend most of the hour and twenty minutes being lost in the hilly darkness. I eventually get down to the beach and the town.

As it begins to get light, I’m heading back, enjoying the din of the howlers for a final day’s run.

Click here to read more about our travels to Costa Rica.

Long(ish)

Long is 18 or more. Longish is 15-17.9. Don't ask why; that's just the way it is.

After a half-decent longish 16 miler on Saturday, I got on the hotel mill yesterday and banged out a long run of 18. That's the first long run in quite a while. And it wasn't very pretty.

Today I could only manage six here in Bellevue, WA. They were very slow, but at least I got to explore a bit. Mercer Slough park is close by, so I ran around there. Nice.

It's AT, not PF

You know the plantar fasciitis I've had all these decades? Well, it's really achilles tendonitis, according to the x-ray. I really did suspect that it was something different this time, since the pain was more in the back of my heel, instead of underneath.

I'm now using nitroglycerin pads to treat it. Doctor says it'll take 4-6 months, but the alternatives are more invasive and more expensive. They may be more expensive, but this could be more... wait for it... *explosive*. Sorry.

It was good to at least know what it is. If the nitro doesn't work, I can still go to option B or C. Unfortunately, there was an additional diagnosis, one that has nothing to do with the AT: Doctor thinks I have vascular calcification. On the x-ray, she showed me a deposit on the top of the foot. She said that I should get a stress test as part of my next physical.

She didn't say much else about this, just that I should have it checked further. I've been doing web searches, and I'm not sure I understand the problem at all. It may be related to atherosclerosis.

Step, Ouch, Step, Ouch...

Sorry, but this will be a painful post.

After those two races last weekend, my heel has been killing me more than ever. That's quite a lot of hurt.

Gave myself an easy day, and then tried to run a three-a-day last Tuesday. I did manage to run three times - morning, lunchtime, and on the track that evening - but they weren't pretty to say the least. And each was more painful than the previous one. Then, after another very painful run - a thirteen miler heading as far as Chesterland, the one where I was really doing the Step, Ouch, Step, Ouch thing -  I finally decided to get some medical attention.

I'm not even sure this is the normal PF that I've had on and off for so many years. The pain is different now - it doesn't ease as I run more and loosen up as it used to. And it's located more in the back of my heel instead of underneath. Running fast seems to irritate it the most, but running far doesn't help either. My appointment is for a week from now. Stay tuned.

Today's annual Quickie 2-mile wasn't as terrible as I thought it would be. I was expecting more extreme pain, and it wasn't all that awful. I finished in a not-so-speedy 14:43. I can handle not-so-speedy so long as it goes along with not-so-painful as it did today.

Hope springs eternal.

Here I am at the Quickie, trying very hard to not get passed by Steve Combs pushing his
TWO kids in a stroller. Thanks to John McCarroll for the photo.

King of the 5K

So far this year, I've run three 5K races. But if you count Sunday's 10K as two 5's... Maybe we should simply say that I've done my share of the short stuff. And not much of the long. And I'm okay with that. I'm also okay with progress, such as it is. Each of the 5K's was progressively faster, although not by as much as I would have liked. The 10K was about as expected, based on everything else.

Saturday's Hy-5 was fun, and although it was the day before the Cleveland Marathon, it was bigger than I thought it would be. Wifey Debbie, Daughter Veronica, Son-in-Law Barry and the kidlets were all on hand. I thought I'd just walk with everyone and help push the stroller, since I had the 10K the next day. But I made a last minute decsion to run after all. Debbie and Veronica, who didn't mind, would take turns pushing, and Barry would run as well.

It rained both before and after the race, but we were lucky to stay dry during the actual run. It was flat, fast and fun. After a rough first mile, I settled into a decent pace and finished strong with - finally - a decent sub-seven final mile. My time was 22:06, good (although I use that term loosely) for second in my age group.

Sunday's 10K was a different story. Because of the associated Cleveland Marathon, it was big, expensive and quite the hassle for such a relatively short race. On the other hand, it was nice to see so many runners, including several friends, bringing downtown Cleveland alive. This time the sky was clear, but it was cool again with temperatures in the upper forties; perfect for running.

Once again, the first mile was rough. It seems that getting my breathing down right takes some time and practice. The next couple miles were also not the greatest, but the final few were better. I don't know why this is; I just eventually get to my most efficient self. Too bad it takes a while.

46:27, good, this time, for third in my age group. I missed second by about four seconds.