Meteors and Me

Orion is rising, and the Pleiades are fairly high in the sky. That’s how I know fall is coming. I am aware of the benefits of calendars, but sometimes I defer to my primitive side. Today’s quest, however, is more meteoric in nature.

It’s 4:25 AM, and although I’ve been awake for hours, I’m only now getting out on the road. No amount of coffee, it seems, does a whole lot at 3:20 AM.

The Perseid Meteor shower is all the rage; everyone’s talking about it. And today was the day: it was pretty dark with only a crescent moon, and the sky was mostly clear. I am looking up.

 

I sneak under the heavy-duty security fence in order to run at the High School track in order to be able to view the sky without tripping or worrying about much else. I do about three miles worth, out of my total of ten, there at the track.

Do I see any meteors, you ask? Nope, not a one. And this has happened before – see my post about Avoiding Meteors, as well as the Postscript. They're never there when you're looking for them. Sneaky, they are.

I Really Mean it This Time

The Medina County Solid Waste District Central Processing Facility, also known as the CPF, is where we have to take all our recyclables. It's a long way from Brunswick - the opposite side of the county. It seems silly to waste the gasoline to drive that far, just to recycle, so I try to space out my trips there, and also combine them with some other reason to go in that direction, such as running.

Today I first went to Buckeye Woods park driving a truckload of papers, plastic, glass and cardboard. We ran down towards Chippewa Lake and back, and then, as it began to get lighter, around Buckeye Woods on the 5-mile BW50K loop. It was a very nice early morning 11-mile run.

After the run I drove further south to the CPF and dumped all the junk.

The Medina County Solid Waste District keeps telling us that they will soon place recycling bins all around the county, such as near schools and city halls. This was to have happened earlier this year. Then by May. Now it's by August. They really mean it this time.

And don't even get me started on how the county has screwed up on the entire idea of recycling.

It was over a year ago that we Brunstuckians passed a tax levy to fix our roads. Heaven knows they need it. What has happened so far, you ask? Not a whole XXXing lot, I answer.

The big project was to be the resurfacing of Ohio Route 303. It's the main drag through town, and I can't go anywhere at all without traveling on it. Most of the money is supposed to come from the state, but some, including presumably, some of the levy funding, from the city.

The resurfacing was to begin early in the summer. Then July. Now August. They really mean it this time.

And now the story gets a little more personal.

I've been trying to get back into ultra mode. Mugrage Park had been fairly successful, but the recovery has been tough stuff.

I'm thinking about a fifty-miler in October, but at the moment, I'm nowhere near where should be for such an endeavor. In order to train for ultras, you have to run a lot of miles. Including long runs. I haven't been very diligent in following this mantra.

Well, I'm going to do a long run soon, maybe tomorrow. I really mean it this time.

And another thing. For the past four or five years, I've been trying to pass off the directorship of the NorthCoast 24-Hour Endurance Run. NC24 is my baby, and I love it dearly. But now the child's growing older, and it's time for someone else to take over it's nuturement (I just made that word up).

Heck yes, I've been trying. And I've even had a little bit of success here and there. One time a person came in to share RD duties with me, but then gave it back entirely the next year. Another one took over exclusively for a while, but then, you guessed it, gave it back. A third person said they would take over after this year's race, but now will not. Obviously the root cause of this problem is that I'm always around to take it back.

I was forced to announce that I would leave the race no matter what, and if we don't find a candidate by September 1, we would not hold the event at all in 2016.

I really mean it this time.

The Moving Cave

When it happened, I was out in the park, enjoying the early morning sunshine. I thoroughly enjoy getting my morning exercise in that beautiful part of the world, and it's even better to be able to do so with my friends.

The sunshine was dappled through the canopy of trees. It was warm, and the humidity was high this day, but that never bothers any of us. And we never bother anyone else either; we simply enjoy ourselves and our surroundings.

Well, that part about not bothering anyone isn't entirely true. I suppose I should qualify it by saying that we never bother any of our own kind.

Yes, we do occasionally like to nibble on the various large mammals that come by. Sometimes we even take in a large bite.

But this day, I wasn't intent on biting anything; I was simply flying around and loving it. Too bad I did so above the open pathway. One moment I was flitting about, and the next moment - it happened so quickly! - I was inside a moving cave!

It was immediately dark, and very moist. The scariest part is that the opening closed right after I was sucked inside. How would I ever get out again?

More moisture came in around me. I thought I might drown. But then, just as quickly, something wonderful happened. There were loud convulsions and eruptions, and I suddenly found myself free again! Covered with this wet stuff, but free.

I looked up just in time to realize that that moving cave belonged to a moving mammal. It was still making coughing and gagging noises as it continued to run down the path.

I will have to watch out for this one next time. My revenge will be in the form of a very sweet bite out of the top of that bald head of his.

Tales of the Kid, Part 3: No More Running Left in Me

The Kid is awake at 3:30 AM, a little before his alarm goes off. "Perfect," he thinks, "Now I can get a lake loop in prior to the 5:00 AM lake loop, which, of course, is prior to the usual 5:30 AM Big Nine Mile Loop."

Getting up in the early AM hours at all seemed problematic for the Kid. The previous morning he had gotten up at 1:45 AM in order to pick up his friends, Larry and Chris Orwin at 2:45, and get them to the start of the Burning River 100-Mile race by 3:30 for the 4:00 start. He had then made his way over to the Medina County Road Runners aid station in order to help out for about four hours. He had then managed to squeeze in a run on the towpath with some fellow MCRR volunteers, and had then gone into work for his 10:00 AM to 2:00 PM shift. And then he had gone home and crashed.

But after that, the Kid was just getting ready to drive some of Chris' pacers to various locations, when he received a call from the one called the 'Mountain Goat' to inform him that Chris had unfortunately dropped out. "I have no more running left in me," she'd told him.

No more running left in me, thinks the Kid, is a good way of saying that I just can't do this anymore; I've had enough. Or, in the words of famous runner Forrest Gump, "I'm pretty tired. I think I'll go home now."

Now that the Kid was off the hook, he was able get some additional rest and this in turn enabled him to wake up at an early hour for the second morning in a row.

So the Kid starts running around Hinckley Lake at 4:30 AM. He finds himself moving at a pretty decent clip - about nine-minute pace. The 5:00 AM crowd, Debbie Scheel and Caitlin Oblander, show up, and they begin another lake loop. This one's faster, and it has the Kid huffing and puffing a lot.

At 5:30 AM, the 5:30 crowd, Brian Rosenstock, appears, and the four begin their Big Loop. This doesn't go quite so well for the Kid, and he has a tough time keeping up, but Brian kindly stays with him.

The Kid is getting pretty tuckered out, more so as the run progresses. As he finishes up, Debbie and a few others (the 7:00 AM crowd), are milling around. Debbie asks the Kid if he wants to run another lake loop with her.

"No thanks," says the Kid, "I have no more running left in me."

MCRR BR100 Aid Station                 Photo by Jim Perichitti

P.S. Larry did, remarkably, make it to the finish of the BR100. That's quite an accomplishment. He evidently had just enough running left in him.

The New Dan

I would have liked to call this, The New and Improved Dan. But contrasting the New Dan with the Old Dan, the one who wakes earlier than usual to get extra miles in, there is precious little improvement to speak of.

Those eighteen coming a week after the thirty-five, were evidently a bit too much for me; it was a lousy week of running. I even had to take a day off. Besides the ever-present Achilles Tendonitis pain, I've now got some severe butt pain to go along with it.

It's piriformis syndrome. I've had it before, and this too shall pass.

I Wake, Therefore I Run

I suddenly bolt straight up to a sitting position. "Are you okay?" asks Debbie. "Fine," I answer. But I'm not quite fine; both arms had fallen completely asleep, which immediately awoke the rest of me. Having had this experience in the past, I know that this too, shall pass. It's 2:00 AM.

It does. And I actually get back to sleep, only to be re-awakened just before 3 - this time by a sneeze.

And now I'm up for good. I may as well run.

I had already been planning to run; there was a Hinckley lake loop planned for 5:00 AM, and then the usual 9 a half-hour later. Now I'd be able to start at 4.

This was the Dan of Old. Dan of Old didn't mind getting up even earlier than normal to run. If he awoke earlier than planned, it was an opportunity, not a problem. An opportunity for extra miles, that is. Dan of Old would do this, even if he ran a 35-miler just the previous Sunday.

I manage to run two lake loops before the 5:00 AM group shows up, and we run another all together. Now it's 5:30 AM, and the larger gang arrives, thirsty for our Hinckley Nine.

These nine are unsurprisingly slower and tougher than those first nine around the lake. But luckily, no one else feels like running fast today, and we all stick together.

Eighteen hilly miles. It was a pretty good day of running, and the best part is that I'm done. And that it's only a little after 7:00 AM.

MP6: Split Personality -> The Runner and The Race Director

“The more I run, the more Chris Orwin laps me,” says the Runner, “I’d be way better off to just quit.” He had been closing in on 36 laps at the Mugrage Park 6-Hour Run (MP6), and was moving slower and slower, eventually getting down to ‘ultramarathon shuffle’ pace. Worse yet, Jeannine Nicholson and Ladd Clifford, talking and laughing the entire way, had begun to lap him as well.

36 laps, the equivalent of 50K, was a milestone for many of the MP6 contestants, and it was a major goal for the Runner as well. But he also thought he might even be able to go a little further. Debbie Scheel and Larry Orwin, who had both run brilliantly this day, were wise enough to quit at that point, and were now relaxing near the Mugrage Park shelter. They, along with a couple of the volunteers and other bystanders, were watching everyone else keep on trucking around the 0.876 mile loop.



Fairly early in the run with the Sharpes and Rob.        Photo by John McCarroll

The Race Director (RD) is pretty much out of it at this point. And this is a good thing, since the Runner needed to be in charge now. Oh, the RD did stop to talk to the wonderful volunteers (including Harold Dravenstott, Rob Lisy, Renee Harden and most especially Ron Ross) every couple laps as the Runner came by, but since said volunteers had everything well in hand, he could go back into seclusion. He managed to be able to spend most of the race there in that secret place. Both the Runner and the RD appreciated that.

Things hadn’t been so easy for the RD in the days leading up to MP6. He had originally planned this to be a low-key ‘just show up and run’ event. Debbie had reserved the Mugrage Park shelter all day for the MCRR picnic, and the RD had thought that since the picnic would be in the afternoon, it would be nice to hold a little run there in the morning. To emphasize the small, easy-going nature of his planned event, the RD even began using the tagline, ‘If you think the Buckeye Woods 50K is getting a little too big and well-organized, this is the event for you.’

The RD needed to figure out some way to time a six-hour run, however. Timing such a thing amounts to counting laps and multiplying the total by the lap distance. Will Bertemes offered to pay for the timer. But that would entail finding and hiring someone. Hugh Patton, who’d timed Outrun 24, offered to do it for free. Will then offered to donate the money toward race expenses anyway. The RD determined that hats would be valuable mementos for the participants, and began working with Brian Polen of Vertical Runner to acquire them.

All of this was good stuff. But it did make work for the RD, who found himself reluctantly getting further away from the desired ‘just show up and run’ mentality. Then some problems arose. First there was some trouble just getting the permit. This shouldn’t have been a problem, since MCRR already had the shelter, and the county parks folks had told him the permit was coming. But it took some prompting before it finally did arrive. Then there were the hats. Actually getting hold of Brian and picking them up turned out to be a bit messy, requiring re-arranged schedules and so forth.

The kicker came at 9:30 PM the night before the race when the RD received the notification from Hugh that he wouldn’t be able to make it. The panic lasted an hour or so until he went to sleep, and then resumed with a vengeance as he awoke at 3:00 AM. During the ensuing two hours, he actually came up with an Excel spreadsheet that he thought might be workable: a volunteer would type the bib numbers of the runners as they went by, the lap data points would be time-stamped and counted. Bib numbers? The timer had said he’d bring those as well, not now the RD had resort to bringing a pile of his old used ones from his various races over the years.

None of this was good for the Runner. All the Runner had wanted to do was to run his best for the six hours, hopefully achieving at least 50K. But now he had a multitude of trials and tribulations, all because of the RD’s distinct lack of contingency planning.



But somehow, things did manage to work themselves out. The hat and the permit issues got resolved. And as he arrived at Mugrage, laptop, old bibs and other equipment in hand, relating his woes to Ron, the other volunteers and early-bird runners, the RD realized that this timing issue, too, shall pass. Ron preferred to simply make tick marks on paper to the training required for the spreadsheet, but it wasn’t a problem and that was that.

And the RD found that he didn’t need to worry any longer. Now the Runner could remerge from oblivion and take charge.



About half way through in the nice wooded section. Photo by John McCarroll

Take charge he did… at least for a while. He found himself with the lead pack for about the first ten laps. Talking with Larry, Chris, Debbie, Rob and the rest was fun and entertaining. At one point Debbie and Chris were talking shop, including that they would both like to work in an Endoscopy unit. The Runner suggested that they start a website: Dirtynursetalk.com. Let the record show that the Runner has not tried to determine whether such a site already exists.

Being in charge didn’t really last all that long, but the Runner also enjoyed the company of the other runners as well. He took turns running with Caitlin Oblander, Bob Pokorny, Beth Bugner, Suzanne and Jack Sharpe, and of course Ladd and Jeannine, and probably a bunch more.

By the time he was nearing thirty laps – the marathon distance, the Runner was slowing down quite a bit. Larry was just about done with his 50K, and the Chris lapping thing had begun in earnest. She just never slowed down. And Ladd and Jeannine were remarking that they could walk faster than he could run. Those two were actually running faster as the race went on. Had he been even a little lucid, he couldn’t have agreed more. He slowed even more in the next few laps, hitting the 50K mark about five hours, eighteen minutes into the run. He took a much needed break.

The RD came out for a moment to worry about running out of water. The Runner told him to shut heck up (without using the word, heck), and then went back out to see how much further he could go.

Fairly far, it turns out. The Runner gets some kind of second wind, and runs four more laps at about the same pace as some of the ones in the middle of the race. Along the way he finds himself running at various moments with ebullient as always Angela Demchuck, Roy Heger, Suzanne (again) and Kenny Welch, all of whom are all enjoying their runs way too much.

The Runner realizes that he was enjoying himself too. Mugrage is a pretty little park, and it is a beautiful day. But then all too soon, the six hours are coming to an end. The Runner hoofs it in for the last half-mile to try to keep ahead of Ladd. He wanted to allow for the possibility that he and Ladd were at the same mileage, in which case the question of who crossed the line for their final lap might be relevant.

It isn’t. Ladd had 42 laps, whereas the Runner winds up as the second male with only 40 (which is 25 miles). But both Ladd and the Runner were ‘chicked’ twice: by Chris (49 laps!) and Jeannine (43). The RD, the Runner, and everyone else had a blast.

Here is everyone who was still around as the race ended.                  Photo by Felicia Fago

To the Nines

According to Wikipedia, to the nines means "to perfection", "to the highest degree" or to dress "buoyantly and high class". The phrase is of Scottish origin, and was also used in a Robert Burns poem in 1800. I had always thought that it was only related to dress, but evidently not.

Nine is the new eight. That’s in terms of minutes per mile. The vast right-wing majority of my running miles had, up until only a few years ago, been at near eight minute pace. Nowadays, if I can get down to sub-9 pace, I call it a good run. And there aren’t all that many good runs.

Nine is the new ten. This time, it’s in terms of miles run on my mid-week, medium-long runs. Oh, I can still do ten once in a while, but I often find myself running out of time and having to cut the run short by a mile or so. This is at least partially due to running those miles at such a slow pace.

Nine miles per day was, in fact, my average mileage for the entire year for several of my “good” years. No longer. In this case, Eight is the new nine.

I could go on about how I dress to the nines for some of my runs – especially those that involve other runners – but I’ll spare you.

Milling Around

It's a little before 4:00 AM, and I'm stumbling around the house like usual, except more so. Last night’s large quantity of pizza, wine and beer may be a factor. Outside, there’s a downpour of biblical proportions. A nice, easy, dry twenty-miler on the treadmill seems to be in order.

Last night I’d seen the forecast and cancelled plans to run on the towpath with Christine Orwin and her sister. Despite the prognostication, I had still held out a tiny bit of hope that I would be able to run outside today. My Medina friends, Harold Dravenstott, Debbie Scheel, Michelle Wolff and Will Bertemes, were planning to start at 5:30 AM at Panera. I could join them, or possibly just run by myself from home. The treadmill would be my last resort.

But now with the rain coming down this hard, there was no way I would step outside. I sent a Facebook message to the group: “I’ll be milling around.” And by 4:30, I’m on the thing, gradually increasing the speed whilst changing channels before finding a Rick Steves episode.

Did I ever mention that I hate treadmills? No, I don’t generally like running in rain either, but which is worse? This would be a good test: would I be able to stay on the thing for 20 miles, like I used to? The answers to these questions turn out to be: yes, treadmills and no.

It’s 5:00 AM, and I’m changing channels, looking for anything interesting, when I come across the one that shows the weather radar 24 x 7. It’s still green (meaning light rain) in Medina county, but most of the yellow (heavy rain) has moved on. Maybe I can still join the Medina gang!

I finish my fifth mile. Thank goodness I was able to get even this far. I clean up as fast as I can, and hop in the car to drive down to Medina. It’s still raining, but not so hard. It occurs to me, and this thought is later confirmed by Michelle, that my message about ‘milling around’ could be a little ambiguous. At the time I had only meant that I’d be running on the treadmill instead of joining the group, but it could also be taken to mean that I’ll be there to run with them.

At 5:30 I pull into the Panera parking lot, and Debbie and Michelle are already there. Will and Harold join us shortly, and we’re off.

The light rain is now coming down in buckets once again. The funny thing is, we don’t mind. Running in the rain really isn’t so bad; it’s usually just getting started that’s tough. We’re actually having fun, running through puddles and getting soaked. At some point, you can’t get any wetter.

A couple hours later, I drop the gang off and run out again for a final mile of these fifteen. I was going to get my twenty in today even if it killed me.

But it didn’t. In fact, it was fun.

All About Me

I suggested that our company employee newsletter include an article about how I am the Race Director for the NorthCoast 24-Hour Endurance Run. I offered to write the article myself, since I'm capable of doing so.

They liked the idea, but preferred to send one of their own writers, Sharon Joles. She interviewed me, and indicated that the article would be more about me than the race. That wasn't my original intent, but I still think the result is fine:

The North Coast 24-hour endurance run: Yes, you get to stop for a bio break, and other questions ...

6/4/2015

 

 

It’s spring in Cleveland, 80 degrees and muggy. But it’s Cleveland, so wait a few minutes and the weather will change. A common sight around Campus II is people out exercising and enjoying the beautiful natural surroundings, such as the North Chagrin Reservation. On such mornings, long before a standard workday begins, you may see Project Portfolio Analyst Lead Dan Horvath out for a run. In fact, any number of your coworkers may be running on the campus or in the park. There’s a large running community at our company, with skills ranging from beginner to elite-level runners.

The runner
Dan talks about how long he has been running with a twinkle in his eye.

“I’ve been running since the 1970s; about 40 years,” he says. “I belong to the Medina County Road Runners, which is a great running club. I always have someone to run with, and my running friends provide extra motivation.”

Dan runs fifty to sixty miles a week, although right now he’s recovering from an Achilles tendonitis injury and taking it a little easy while he heals. He runs daily, explaining that, addict that he is, it’s difficult not to run, even when injured.

“I've competed in 100 marathons, and 23 ultramarathons including one 100-miler,” he says. “An ultramarathon is anything over 26.2 miles. The 100-miler was on extremely rough terrain. Many of these races take place on trails and you never know what challenge you may find. I was just glad to finish that one.”

Dan explains that ultramarathon distances also include 50-kilometer races, which are 31 miles, and 100-kilometer races, which are 62 miles. For those wishing to go the distance, there’s something for everyone

Race director by default
“In 2008, I was talking with a local elite ultra-marathoner, Connie Gardner, about a recent race where a measurement error cost her the American record for a 24-hour race. She wanted a do-over. I said I wanted to run one as well, and we both exclaimed that we should have one here.”

Thus the idea was born to hold a 24-hour race in Cleveland, sponsored by Dan’s running club. This is what led Dan to becoming not just a runner, but also a race organizer.

“I opened my mouth, raised the idea, and I’ve been the race director for our 24-hour endurance race the last seven years,” he jokes.

A 24-hour endurance race is an ultramarathon race that spans a 24-hour period, and the courses tend to be loops of 1 – 2 miles. The runners try to run as many miles as they can in the 24-hour period. They can leave the course to eat, rest, or take “bio breaks.”

Dan handles the coordination of the event, which is a volunteer-driven effort—everything from the food (one of the favorites is peanut butter and jelly sandwiches) to hiring the park ranger and coordinating the other volunteers who work the 24 hours with him. He cheers the runners on and offers encouragement when their mental focus is waning during the race. He also obtains assistance if a runner needs medical attention. It is a 24-hour endurance race, after all.

They’re going the distance …
“Our race is held at beautiful Edgewater Park, near downtown Cleveland, Ohio,” Dan says. “We use a paved bike trail that is officially measured by USA Track & Field. USA Track & Field is the official governing body for track and field, distance running, and race walkers. The official trail length is 0.90075 mile. We measure the distance each runner travels using RFID trackers on the runners to count the number of laps completed.”

The top three finishers get prize money, and since this event is an official USA Track & Field event, the distances calculated for the winners can earn them a spot on the USA Track & Field National Team. This team represents the United States in the World Championships. The current course records are 158.5 miles (176 laps) for men, and 147.9 miles (164 laps) for women.

Each year, the race draws about 200 hundred runners from all over the US, Canada and Europe. There are runners from age 12 to 87 and everywhere in between. Many run the race every year.

The challenge and sense of achievement is a testament to the mental toughness and physical endurance of the competitors. It is enough to continue to draw the runners to this race.

Don’t quit: There is a bathroom ahead
“Our race is unique in that the runners can leave the race when needed to eat, sleep, or attend to the needs of nature,” Dan explains. “The runners must reenter the track in the same location they left for their miles to be accurate and officially measured.

“With a 24-hour race, some runners need to take a break at some point to sleep. Some lay down to rest and end up sleeping the entire night. It’s a physical and mental battle to return to the race. It makes it easy to quit.”

Sign me up
If you’re dedicated (or crazy?) enough to want to try this race, registration is open for September’s event. You can find more information about the race on Facebook.

Alternatively, if you just want to see what it’s all about, you can head out to Edgewater Park and say hi to Dan, and root on the other runners.

And if by chance you see Dan on the course, be sure to save him a peanut butter and jelly.

Written by Sharon Joles, contributing writer

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.