Brain Baker: The 2013 Cleveland Marathon - My Last

Running with Ladd at about half way               photo by Christine Ganz

It's twenty miles into the Cleveland Marathon, and I'm having a bit of an epiphany: I'm going to make it. My second thought comes in on the heels of that one: it's not going to be pretty.

My watch tells me that I made it to this point in 2:40:19; an eight minute per mile pace. Were I to continue at this pace, I'd finish the race in close to 3:30. 3:30 had been my goal all along, but at this point, I realize that that goal may as well be 2:41 as far as that's concerned. The relentless sun and heat had gotten to me, and I had already been slowing down slightly with every mile since eleven. After trying with all my might to make it at least to mile twenty as close as possible to my goal pace, I had done it, but I am thoroughly used up.

Now with just ten kilometers to go, I know that I can walk, if necessary, and still make it to the finish. And finishing is far more important than any particular time or place. As noted in an earlier post, this is the second time I will have completed my first hundred marathons. Not that I want to slow down; quite the opposite. I still want to run a decent time today, and I mostly want to get out of this sun and heat. But I'm experienced enough to see the writing on the wall: it's going to be a very long, hot six miles. I don't see how I can possibly avoid slowing down further.

The reason the main epiphany itself is so important, however, is because there had been times, especially recently, where the outcome had been still very much in doubt. Now it wasn't - I'd get there no matter what.

The day had started only a little more hopeful. It was already warm when I arrived downtown at 5:15 am. I met up with a gaggle of Medina County Road Runner club members for the annual group photo by the wind turbine. It was nice to see everyone. Then Ladd Clifford and I made our way through the crowded Browns stadium, over to the starting area. Once there, we met up with several additional friends and chatted away until the gun went off.

It was already quite warm and humid, but at least the sun was behind some clouds. Ladd and I had planned to go out with the 3:30 pace group and "see what happens". Ladd wanted to do 3:25, but I'd convinced him that negative splits were the way to go. "We can always pick it up after half-way and make it in 3:24." I said. He listened, but for some reason seemed a little dubious. Ladd and I had run good parts of the Cleveland Marathon together each of the past three years. It had worked out well for both of us, so why not do it again?

Naturally, once we started running, we forgot all about any and all plans, got well ahead of that 3:30 pace group and wound up on the heels of the next one, the 3:25 group. This felt fine at the time, but having gone out too fast for perhaps 85 out of my 99 previous marathons, I was a wee bit concerned.

I became a little more concerned when the sun came out to stay about an hour into the run. This is also about the point where there is no more shade on the course. At about mile eleven or so we approached the Lorain-Carnegie bridge and that 3:25 group got ahead of us to stay. It was simply too much work to try to keep up with them in the heat and the slight uphill grade of the bridge. Ladd didn't seem too concerned, and I was trying to enjoy the huge iconic statues on the bridge whilst huffing and puffing my way along.

We spotted a few friends cheering us on, and passed the half-way mark in 1:42:40. How's that for being on pace for a 3:25? But that heat was already beginning to take it's toll. I seemed to be working harder and harder. And now the pace would get even a little slower. By about mile 16, I told Ladd to go on; to not let me hold him back. He wasn't feeling his best either, but he did get ahead of me.

Will Bertemes was running with the 3:30 group as they came up from behind me. That's always discouraging to be passed by a pace group. I stayed with them and ran close to Will for a while, but they eventually left me behind. Scenic Rockefeller Park is always one of my favorite parts of the course. It's pretty and offers some much needed shade. Shade that had been missing for the past hour or so. It's also the location of the twenty mile mark. Around here I passed Ladd again. He was having some cramping problems. I also passed Larry Orwin, who was in exactly the same predicament. I was sad to think the these two guys were not going to make their time goals. I wished them luck for the remainder of their runs.

Not that I was going to make my own time goal. I knew there was absolutely no way that I was going to be able to continue at that eight minute pace, so I started thinking about trying to make it in 3:40. I'd have an hour to cover the final 10K. That would be quite doable, I thought. So long as I didn't stop and walk.

By mile 21, every muscle fiber in my body is telling me to stop and walk. But I know that if I do that, even my new modest time goal will be out the window. More importantly, stopping to walk will keep me out in this sun that much longer. There is simply no easy way out of this. The only direction is forward. Now that we're out of the park, that sun is back to doing it's job of killing me.

I pass Will and run by spectators Jeannine Nicholson, Lloyd Thomas, Vagn Steen and Kevin Jones. They all cheer me on, and Vagn even runs with me for a bit.

Miles 22-24 are a blur of heat and continuously slowing pace. I want to walk, I want to walk, I want to walk. But I don't. I have another epiphany: I may never have this feeling ever again. You know the one: the feeling that you're part of a death march in hell;  the feeling of being so hot that it seems as if your brain is baking. 'Brain Baker', in fact, seems to be a good term for this entire race. Especially for me, with my lack of attic insulation. In retrospect, I really don't know whether I'll have the feeling again, but it will be less likely, as I'm doing races of shorter duration than marathons.

Will passes me again. I spot Connie Gardner at mile 25 as she stops at the aid station. She had passed me, and now I am almost about to catch her again. I am on the other side of the road and don't  have the chance to say some stupid smart remark to get her mad at me, as I have been known to do. I don't have the energy to say anything anyway. As she starts up again, she gets ahead of me to stay.

I had been slowing more and more, and now only have eleven minutes to run the final 1.2 miles and finish in under 3:40. On any other day, a one mile run at nine minute pace would be a piece of cake. Today, I'm not so sure. I'm no longer sure why I thought that latest particular time goal was important anyway.

As I make the turn onto East Ninth Street, I feel an enormous sense of relief. Even though I still have 3/4 mile to go, it's nearly all downhill. I pick it up, nearly falling forward. I try to catch Connie and Will, but to no avail; they, and nearly everyone else around me is sprinting now too. I make the final turn and head for the finish. The official clock is ticking past 3:40, but my watch, started when I crossed the start line, is still in the 3:39's.

I can't possibly describe the relief it is to stop running. The heat had been almost unbearable. Even so, my body temperature must still be high. I'm guzzling water and not cooling down. I finally do as I'm driving home with the windows open.


The immediate results show me in fourth place in my ancient age group. Examining the data a little closer, it appears that they have both my gun time and chip time at 3:40:13. My chip time should be about 50 seconds faster, and this difference would put me in third place instead of fourth. I send a note to the Cleveland Marathon, and they do eventually correct my time, and now list me as third. Once again, I'm not entirely sure why any of this is significant. John Wooden, the basketball coach of the UCLA Bruins in the 1960's and 1970's was concerned about his team getting too full of themselves as they marched toward another NCAA championship. He told them, "Remember that there are 500 million Chinese who don't even know you are playing." I think about this whenever I'm tempted to take myself seriously.


So that's it. I'm done. With marathons, that is. And I'm not the least bit unhappy about it.

The whole gang before the start      Photo by Marsha Clifford 

To see a list of those hundred marathons, please click here.

You Get to Celebrate Twice

A few years ago we had a semi-big celebration when I hit a century mark of running: 100 races of marathon length or longer. The year was 2010, and I had done 85 marathons and 15 ultras. I was careful to let everyone know about those precise numbers. But what happens, I asked Lou Karl, who was at the time well ahead of me in his count of marathons and ultras, when you hit 100 actual marathons? His answer was, naturally,  "you get to celebrate twice!"

So that's what I'll be doing when and if I complete the Cleveland Marathon this Sunday: I'll be celebrating the second time I've run 100 marathons; it will be my true hundredth marathon. I have also completed 21 ultras. As I'm fond of telling anyone who will listen, my first was also the very first Cleveland Marathon in 1978.

This will also be my last marathon. I've told enough people, so now I've decided to announce it here. My plan is to stay competitive, but to stay away from marathons, as well as most other large gatherings of runners. I've got nothing against marathons or crowds per se, but I just think it's time to move on to new challenges. New challenges such as getting better at shorter races, like 10K's and 10-milers; that sort of thing.

I'd been thinking about marathon retirement for quite some time, but the thing that put me over the edge was recent information about excessive running - especially marathons - actually becoming harmful to one's heart health. This TED Talks video sums it up nicely. John McCarroll and I have been exchanging this kind of information, and it got to me.

I do plan to never stop running. Just not quite so much.

Today's Tremendous Tempo Training Trot

I'm awake and out of bed at 3:20 am. It seems like I either sleep in (till the late hour of 5 or so) or wake up well before my 4:00 am alarm as I did today. When this sort of thing happens, the first thought that pops into my head is always something like: "good - now I have more time, and I can get some additional miles in." I decide that my minimum mileage goal for today will be 15, but that 17 or 18 wouldn't be bad either.

I also feel the need for speed. I've been working on this quality thing lately, and I think it's finally beginning to pay off... a little. After achieving this new age a week ago (I won't say how old I am, but here's a hint: the State of Ohio automatically sent me my new Golden Buckeye Card), I decided that I wanted to kick some age-group butt the very next day at the Medina Run-4-Fun 5K. I did manage to beat the new set of geezers, but just barely. And my time, 22:07, was not that great at all - it was just about in the same range as the previous two 5K's. But I still think I'm doing better by just running these 5K's and also by trying to run hard on the mill. That mill is nothing like real life, but it's had to do. Maybe I'll start getting to the track now that the weather's so nice. Today I decide that I'll try to do a tempo run.

Try is the key word. Tempo runs are generally defined as 20 minutes or more of continuous running at about 10-mile to half-marathon pace. For me, this has nearly always been interpreted as at least three miles at sub-seven minute pace. The trouble is that other than on the mill and those races, I haven't been able to get anywhere near seven minute pace. Why not, you ask? My pat answer has always been that I can't run seven minute miles because I can't even run seven-thirty miles.

But the 5K's were around that pace. And I'm losing weight with the Fast Diet thing. So I decide that I WILL DO IT TODAY!.

After the coffee, Powerbar, pushups, crunches, checking of email and Facebook, I don't get started running until a bit after 5:00 am. Now I don't have as much time to run as if I'd started at some reasonable time like 4:30. But it is what it is. I still have time to get 15 in, and finish between 7 and 7:30.

Why is that important, you ask? For a guy who doesn't have many major responsibilities (work has been nearly non-existent these days), it really isn't. But the constraints I put on myself are still out there. The thought is that a) traffic begins to pick up between 6:30 and 7:00, b) I kind of like to catch the news on the Today show at 7:00 am, and c) I can't remember the other reasons.

After three easy miles to the high school, I do the same thing I always do when I arrive: check to see if the track is open. Today it's closed, as it nearly always is these days, except when the football team practices in late summer and fall. So instead of hitting the track, I begin to run loops around the school.

It's 3/4 of a mile around, and I usually do five loops. I finish the first, and then ingest an energy gel and some water. Now it is time to get serious. If I can do four loops in less than 21 minutes, I'll be able to consider it a successful tempo run. And as noted, this hasn't happened for me in a long time.

Twenty-one minutes divided by four gives us a goal of five and a quarter minutes per lap. Can I do it? The first one feels fairly easy at first... until the second half. I stagger back to the start and check my watch: 5:10. Good. As I begin the second one, things feel a little easier. I come back again in 5:10. The third lap feels tougher, and I have to pick it up for the second half of this one. I come across in, you guessed it, 5:10. Now I'm feeling fairly confident as I begin the fourth and final one. I have a little breathing room - I can run as slow as about 5:30 and still beat 21 minutes. But everything will feel better if I can maintain the same pace. That pace, however, has gotten tougher to maintain. Somehow I do manage it, though, and complete the loop in 5:11. Pretty consistent, wouldn't you say?

Well that was exhausting! After I catch my breath, I begin to head home. If I go straight in, I'll wind up with ten miles. Remember, I wanted to do at least fifteen. I could head home and then back out again. Or, I can take a detour up to North Park, do some loops around the lake there, and then back home. This option keeps me from the temptation to quit earlier than planned (this happens to me at times, especially if I'm returning home before I've run as much as I wanted); if I can get up there and do the usual five laps there, and then run home, it'll be just about fifteen miles total.

So of course I opt for the longer way home. I'm running slow miles to get up to the park, but as I begin running around the lake, I manage to get down to eight minute pace. That isn't bad, but by the time I have completed those laps and am ready to head home, I'm pretty tired. How am I going to get through these last four miles?

It isn't pretty, but somehow I do manage to get back home. This turned out to be one of my better training runs in a long while.

The Need for Substinance

One of the things I admire most about my wonderful wife is her ability to make up words. One of my favorites is 'substinance' as in, "I need some substinance, right now."  I believe the word is some aggregation of:

• 'subsistence' (the means by which one maintains life)

• 'sustenance' (means of sustaining health or life; nourishment)

• 'substance' (the tangible matter of which a thing consists)

When I pointed this out, her comeback was, "you know what I meant." Indeed I did; end of discussion.
I needed some substinance during this morning's run, and when I didn't get it, I bonked. I generally associate bonking with longer runs, but today it happened just seven miles into my eleven miler. Up until that time, I'd been thinking of doing something on the order of 23 miles. But 11 would have to do today.
It shouldn't have been a surprise; there's been a whole lot of bonking going on lately - ever since I began the fast diet a week ago. Here's the problem: I fast on Monday and Wednesday. My Monday runs have been bad because I'm usually still recovering from the weekend's running, and also because I don't take the usual fruit or other carbs just prior to the run. My Tuesday runs have been bad due to lack of substinance the prior fast day. My Wednesday runs have been bad for some of the same reasons that my Monday runs were, and my Thursday runs have been bad for some of the same reasons the Tuesday runs were.
Now then, I did have a good run this past Sunday where I did about 22 on the towpath with some MCRR friends. That was fairly encouraging after an otherwise so-so week. And I'm still very much sold on the general concept of the fast diet. But I do recognize that contrary to statements by the authors, the lack of calories on those fast days does indeed have an deleterious effect on my exercise performance.
Yesterday was my third fast day since I began, and it was the easiest yet. I'm losing some weight. All I really need to do is figure out this running thing.

Don't Think About Food

Of course food is what I'm going to think about when I'm fasting.

It's my second day of fasting for the week. In case you're wondering what I'm talkin' about, I'm trying to follow the fast diet. Monday, the first day, really didn't go all that bad. It was just like the book said: it isn't as hard as it may appear. But the book also said that it gets easier. That has not been the case for me today. Maybe next week will be when it gets easier.

The Fast Diet -- I Thought it Was Supposed to Help Me *Run* Faster

I am reading the Fast Diet by Michael Mosely and Mimi Spencer. It's about the joy and benefits of intermittent fasting. There's a Huffington Post article about it. There is also a PBS Program that initially got my attention.

Now then, just possessing a diet book doesn't guarantee that you will lose weight. Even keeping it close by doesn't necessarily help. And I've now learned that even reading the dang thing, in and of itself, won't do the trick for sure. One actually needs to follow the advice for there to be any benefit at all. Isn't that a bummer?

We're going to find out just how much of a bummer it is. It's supposed to be not too painful, this fasting business. You only fast for two non-consecutive days per week, and you don't totally fast - just restrict yourself to 500-600 calories for those two days. And that's it - you can eat normally for the other five days.

The book gives all sorts of rationale. Besides weight loss, the fasting is supposed to help one's heart, aging and brain function. I won't trouble you with all those details, but suffice it to say that I'm absolutely convinced. The book also provides some suggested diet specifics for the fast days, as well as some encouragement.

And so I'm finally taking the plunge; today's my first fast day. I've been really apprehensive about this whole thing, but maybe it won't be so bad. The plan is to have a salmon salad for lunch, and then a couple eggs with asparagus tonight. Yes, I might just be able to do this.

I was only kidding about the diet making me faster. But then, if I lose even a couple pounds, maybe that will be another benefit. I'm not counting on this a whole lot, however. What I am counting on is racing myself into shape, in addition to simply stepping up the training.

I did run a small 5K in Brunswick (the Race for Blue Pride) yesterday. Even though there was a decent turnout, very few fast people showed up. I wound up as the second male (a girl passed me in the final mile). My time was 21:28. This time seems pretty slow for me, even these days. But it was cold, and the course was a little on the long side. My first two miles were at 6:30 pace, and I really didn't slow down all that much. I'll take it. And there will be more shorter type races to come.

Maximalism

Hoka One One shoes like mine, from the Hoka website

There's been a lot of talk about minimalism in the past couple years. Running shoes are a changing, some piecemeal, some radically. The 2009 book, Born to Run by Christopher McDougall, seems to have been the catalyst. I absolutely loved that book. I thought the minimalism information was fascinating, but the storytelling was even better.

In some ways, I've been a minimalist from day one. I never carry a cellphone, a water bottle or anything else that I can get by without. I wear as little clothing as I can legally get away with. I don't even have a working GPS device. I try to run from home rather than drive to a run whenever possible - this even though my nearby running routes are devoid of large parks, trails or tracks.

And I do like light shoes; I've been experimenting with a couple different models. I'm generally fine with the minimalist movement, so long as we don't go too far over the crazy-cliff. Some cushioning is a good thing, I say.

But in other ways, I'm at the other end of the spectrum. Even though I'm reevaluating this, I generally prefer high mileage to the alternative. I run as many group runs and races as possible. And I wear Hoka One One shoes.

The Hokas certainly look like the opposite of minimalist shoes. There is an enormous amount of volume in the midsole. They're simply huge! The heel to toe drop, however, is four millimeters, the same as for many of the 'barely there' models. And they're relatively light in weight. This always comes to a surprise to anyone trying them on.

Even though I've got nearly 400 miles on my Hoka One One Stinson Evo's, as far as I'm concerned, the jury's still out on them. I don't wear them every day, but when I do, I have the sense that my body doesn't take quite the beating as it does for shoes of less cushioning. I'm not even entirely sure about this point, however. When I wore them for the Buckeye Woods 50K, as well as several training runs before and after that, I appeared to wind up with knee problems as a result. There was a suggestion that I try wearing an orthotic with them, and I've been doing this for the past couple weeks. This does appear to be helping to stabilize them, and my knee is better, but as a result, the shoes have taken on more weight. So instead of being bulky but light, they're bulky and heavy. Bottom line: ask me in another couple hundred miles.

Other ways in which I'm more maximalist and minimalist can be illustrated by some of the things I've been heard to say from time to time:

"Give me all the carbs that you removed from that low-carb meal"
"Give me the gluten that you removed from that gluten-free meal"
"Give me all the darkness, heaviness, hoppiness, maltiness, etc., that you removed from that beer in order to make it a 'light beer'"
"Give me the thickness that was removed from that thin pizza crust"

And so on.

Loss

This is going out in our next newsletter, but I think it's also an appropriate blog post. If you are reading this and also receive the MCRR newsletter, I apologize for the duplication.

There are many kinds of loss. First, there’s the loss of words that almost, but not quite, happened to me. So much has already been said, so many eloquent words about the terror in Boston, that I don’t feel as though I have much to add. Yet I’ll try anyway. It may be better than the usual dribble that you get from me. Or not.

There’s the unimaginably painful loss experienced by a few families where a loved one was killed. There’s the loss of health and mobility of many more of those who were injured. For all these folks, the only crime was that they happened to be near the location of the explosions.

And then there’s the loss of the feeling of safety and security; our loss of innocence. We all felt this on 9/11, and now it’s happening again. It hits home a bit harder for those of us who run. Large events and gatherings, including those wrapped around running events, will need to take more precautions. In fact, they won’t be the same, especially because we won’t view them the same way.

Every now and then, some incredibly small percentage of the population of humanity gets their brain wires tangled, gets hold of a weapon, attacks some people in some way, and inexplicably causes horrible pain and suffering. The fact that so few are of this bent doesn’t make it any less painful. But what does make the whole thing a little more bearable – at least for those of us watching from a safe distance – is the response of the good people. The volunteers, the medical and emergency personnel, the police, the race organizers, and even the runners are to be commended for their courage and valor.

Boston is such a great event. Running-wise, it’s the celebration to end all celebrations. It’s something nearly all runners aspire to, and for good reason. Speaking for those of us who have been lucky enough to have had the opportunity to participate, it really is everything it’s cracked up to be. I understand that not everyone will be able to run it, but I would certainly encourage all to try.

Thank goodness that all our MCRR runners are safe. Those runners who participated in this year’s Boston Marathon are: Connie Gardner, Ladd Clifford, Roberta Gangl, Beth Bugner, Jeannine Nicholson, Jack McDaniel (and family), Bob Pokorny, Debbie Hicks and Delores Manhoff. Great job you guys! We’re all proud of you.

Spring Classic 10-Mile

Going out for the second loop.                Photo by John Pavlick

At 40F, give or take, it sure felt cold. At least there was only a little wind, and no rain. And the heavy layer of clouds actually helped as well. I saw a bunch of friends before the start - some from MCRR, some from CWRRC, and a few others - more than I thought there'd be. It was nice to chat with everyone, although aside from the conversation, our teeth were chattering too.

After we got moving, the conditions actually felt great. In fact, running weather doesn't get much better.

I started out by trying to keep up with Heidi Finniff. Heidi's been running really good lately, so I knew that  if I could stay with her, I'd have a solid run.

The first mile went by in around 7:30. Having only run the Hinckley Buzzard 25K trail race in recent months, I didn't know what to expect this day. I'd originally thought that maybe staying around an eight-minute pace would be a worthwhile goal, but I just wasn't sure what would happen. Now that I'd started out at a seven-thirty pace, I figured that my goal had now been defined: stay at this same pace throughout the run.

Easier said than done. At some point I passed Heidi, but she stayed close behind. We could see each other, as well as most of the other runners, at all the turnarounds. There were a few guys that were just in front and back of me, and except for one or two, I couldn't quite seem to shake them.

I went through half-way point in 37:40, hoping that I could pick it up at least a tiny bit for the last five. I did manage to stay at 7:30 pace for most of the miles, and then I picked it up for the final one, which was around seven minutes flat. I wasn't able to catch a few of those other guys, but it was still a strong finish, and I was quite happy with my finish time of 1:14:35.

Funny thing: they give you your award as you cross the line (a really wonderful idea), and when they presented me with my second in age group plaque, I said, "please don't tell me it was one of those guys right in front of me who got first!" They understood the need to lie to me, and said, "no, don't worry - first place was WAY in front of you!" I still don't know for sure whether that was the truth or a very nice lie, but I feel much better not knowing.

At the finish with my usual grimmace. Photo by George Themalis

Protein Supplementation

It was around 2010 when I began my experimentation with protein. I'd always known that it was important for recovery, but now I began doing some serious supplementation, especially right after a run or other workout. It started with Hammer Nutrition's Recoverite, which is made specifically for recovery of aerobic exercise. Recoverite has a 3 to 1 ratio of carbohydrates to protein, which is pretty much what all the experts say is good. Then I moved on to pure protein supplementation - Cytosport 100% Whey Protein, which was available at Costco for a good price. I figured that with all the fruit and cereal, I was already getting plenty of the carbs that the Recoverite was giving me. Now I had the protein (usually mixed with almond milk) to go with it. Never mind that I had been using almond milk to reduce my dairy consumption, and now I was adding it back in. Not everything I do makes perfect sense. Actually, I'd been considering moving on to some sort of plant based protein for my supplementation. More on this later.

Whether it was directly related to the protein or not, my running improved. I increased my training volume fairly significantly. I ran some pretty darn good marathons and half-marathons. The greatest improvement was in my ultras. Arguably, the best of them was my run at the Mad City 100K in April, 2011, where I ran a 9:31.

Things kept going well, until my debacle at Mohican that summer. Although I still had some decent runs later that year, it was definitely a turning point. After that, the injuries really took over - the plantar fasciitis, the piriformis, and the rest - and things went downhill. 2012, of course, was a complete waste.

So was it the protein? Did that have anything at all to do with this rise and fall? If so, why didn't it shield me from all those injuries? Maybe it enabled me to run more, and that actually caused the injuries? I have no idea. But let me talk about a more recent, albeit much smaller, rise and fall. 2013 has started out kinder and gentler. My training volume is down. I'm only slowly increasing the intensity. If I feel any injury at all coming on, I back off. Most importantly, I am trying my darnedest to stay injury-free. With the reduced number of miles, I began to wonder whether the extra protein was helping at all. So I stopped taking it for a few weeks.

It was imperceptible at first, but then I began to notice it more and more. The soreness, the aches and pains. Not being able to run hard two days in a row, or even less often than that. Last weekend I met up with a gang of old friends in Broadview Heights for their Saturday morning long run. The pace wasn't all that terribly fast, and I should have been able to keep up. But I couldn't. I had run only moderately hard the previous two days, and I was just plain tired when it came to hitting the roads that Saturday. This was discouraging since I had been showing some slow but steady improvement throughout the year.

Setbacks happen, sometimes for unknown reasons. But am I back on the protein? You bet.

But wait - it gets even more interesting. In the wake of all this is some new information about l-carnitine. It seems that a study by the Cleveland Clinic has shown a link to heard disease. An amino acid that is a nutrient in red meat, and also an ingredient in many milk based protein supplements, including the one I'm taking.

I'm going to take a closer look at the plant-based protein supplements.

Hinckley Buzzard 50K/25K

It was **just** the 25K for me. There was once a time when I would never, ever run anything but the longest possible race of the day. I would say that I was simply trying to get my money's worth, since one does generally get more miles per dollar for the longer runs. But for last autumn's Run with Scissors (where I **just** did a marathon), and now this here buzzard run, I opted for the shorter events.

Notice the overuse and emphasis of the word just. People use the word all the time when running a shorter race if a longer one is available. I may need to expunge that word from my own vocabulary, since I am finding myself using it so much lately.

About half-way through, and making that face again.                            Photo by John McCarroll

I was under no illusions about how tough this would be, shorter race though it was. I like the Hinckley trails, but I'm quite aware that they present quite the challenge to road sissies like myself. Since I had no illusions, I also had no expectations about running especially fast, or placing especially well. I only hoped to finish.

And even just finishing appeared to be somewhat in doubt as we started off. The footing, especially at during the first mile or two, was very bad. There was:

• snow
• ice
• uneven ruts of frozen mud
• the usual steep hills

No, this was not going to be an easy day. I considered simply turning around and walking back, but I somehow managed to keep running forward. I eventually got used to the conditions, and just rolled with them. Did I mention that it was also quite cold? Temperatures were in the low 20s at the start, but during the run probably got up to the low 30s. The sunshine helped. But even that, combined with a couple hundred thousand footfalls, presented some problems. At some point some of the ice and frozen mud became transformed into ice and shoe-sucking mud.

How did the run go for me, you ask? Actually not too bad. I'd like to say that I exceeded expectations, but that wouldn't be quite right since I didn't have any. I ran the two 7.85 mile (or whatever) loops in about even splits to finish in 2:35. That's really okay. I'm fine with it. Really. I won't even mention that it's yet another Personal Worst time, or that my last 25K run was in the neighborhood of an hour faster with a time of 1:42.

It was wonderful to run in those Hinckley woods; they truly are beautiful. I'll never take them for granted. It was also wonderful to see so many of my club and otherwise ultra friends out there running and/or organizing the race. I had a blast.

pantalones hay más

I was trying to say, 'no mas pantalones', like the Progressive TV ad, but Google Translate changes 'no more pants' into 'pantalones hay más'. So that's the title of this post - because I like this rendition even better.

The Progressive ad, which accomplishes its mission of being so silly that's it's actually funny in spite of itself, features a couple Progressive competitors who evidently lie about their  companies' capabilities and then have their pants catch on fire. As the conflagration winds down, one guy says to the other in very bad Spanish, 'no mas pantalones'.

What does any of this have to do with moi? I made a pact with myself on or about the beginning of March to no longer wear long pants for my runs. It seemed like a pretty good bet - that March running would be mild enough for me to expose my bare naked legs.

Little did I know that, unlike last March, when we had record high temperatures in the eighties, this March would be so much colder than normal.

But I've kept faithful to my ambition. I haven't worn long pants for a run for several weeks now. Of course for some of the runs I've still wimped out of running outside and opted for the mill. Maybe that DQ's me from saying that I've run pantless, I dunno.

All this does remind me of a similar pact that Rita Cognion made with herself several years ago. She was planning to go pantless for the entire winter, however. And she did it! How, you ask? The beginning of that winter was fairly mild. Then, when it did finally begin to get cold, she moved to Hawaii.

Jeesh. I hope that doesn't happen to me.

Constraint Satisfaction

What's the least amount of work that I have to do in order to pass this course? ~ anonymous students everywhere

Successful people are willing to do the things that others are not ~ one of my teachers from back in the past

I can't get no satisfaction ~ Mick Jagger

I took a post-graduate course on Artificial Intelligence (AI). I loved it, and I wouldn't mind taking it again sometime. The class wasn't easy. We spent a great deal of time and effort designing complex algorithms to solve constraint satisfaction problems, or CSPs.

The constraint part of the CSPs is the set of limitations, situations or events to be maximized or avoided as part of the problem. The methods for solving the CSPs involve complex recursive searches for the best possible of all possible solutions. That's where the artificial intelligence comes in. AI can be defined (according to my source for all such things, Wikipedia) as, "a system that perceives its environment and takes actions that maximize its chances of success".  In a nutshell, AI provides the capability for solving CSPs.

It occurs to me - and probably not just me - that real life is a constraint satisfaction problem. Our day to day lives, as well as our longer term goals, involve the problem of satisfying a set of constraints. And - get this - we solve them by using something called natural intelligence (NI). I sort of made that up, but the term has already been in use to some extent.

As an example, a student may believe that she will get the best possible job by attending the university ranked highest. But the highest ranked universities may have the highest tuition, and our student may only be able to afford so much tuition expense. In addition, our student may want to attend a university within a certain radius of home. All of these limitations and constrictions about the universities are the constraints. So picking the best possible one in order to get the best possible job is a nearly real-life CSP. And we would make the choice based on our best possible application of NI.

I would argue that exactly all of our choices and decisions - our day to day ones as well as those related to our long-term goals - make up constraint satisfaction problems. The hard part, of course, is identifying and weighing the constraints and their relative importance. I would further argue that successful people are those who are somewhat better at doing this. If we can say that successful people are willing to do the things that others are not, that is most likely because they have clearly considered the constraints of the problem in some way such that the negative ones have been minimized and the positive ones maximized.

Naturally this brings us to running. Yes, of course running is a CSP.

To wit, an example of a running CSP: I want to run fast in races. In order to do so, I need to run fast, at least occasionally, in training. But I don't want to get injured, so I shouldn't do too much. It's best to do speedwork at the track, but the Brunswick HS track is often closed. I don't like to drive anywhere to run; I'd rather do it from home. And dang-it if it ain't cold as heck out there, restricting my breathing whilst I try to get moving fast.

A successful runner would probably say, "damn the torpedoes" and run fast anyway. I, on the other hand, need to work on my willingness. And my NI.

And don't get me started on the Knights Who Say Ni; that's a different subject.

Been a While

There was once a local cat shelter called Bide-a-Wee. I think that's either Yiddish or Swahili for "Stay a While". We obtained our two animals from there, and we also made a couple donations. Then they were sued, or threatened with a lawsuit. It seems that the name they chose was already being used by an "animal welfare" organization in New York. Why in the world someone would care what a little cat shelter is called is beyond me. So now they're simply the Stay a While Cat Shelter.

What does this have to do with running, you ask? I have no idea. I just sort of remembered it when I typed the title of this post. But Been a While does indeed have something to do with running. How, you ask?

1) It had been a while since I ran with Dave Gajewski. In fact, I can't really remember our last run together. It's probably been several months. He called me yesterday, and I joined him for a 20-miler this morning. It was good to catch up with him  - to hear how his family is doing and how his (still) young kids are progressing in school and preschool.
2) It had been a while since I did 20 miles. Oh, I suppose you could say that I've done some treadmill twenties, but we really shouldn't count those. Today's twenty went fairly well, thank you. We averaged about 8:30 per mile, although the first ten were somewhat faster than the second ten.
3) It had been a while since I'd run the "Dave's Loop" ten-mile route. At least that's what I call it. The course begins and ends at Dave's house in Broadview Heights, traversing some hills, neighborhoods and semi-rural roads. I used to drive over for early morning runs once a week or so, but as I say, it'd been a while. Today we did two of these loops in 83 and 86 minutes, respectively. We've run them faster - and I'm sure Dave could have done so today - but this really wasn't too bad at all.
4) It's been a while since running has caused me pain of any kind. Astute readers of this blog will note that this is not the first time I've mentioned this. Since it's a somewhat important topic from my perspective, I herewith bring it up again. While I'm trying to improve my speed and strength, I most certainly do not want to get myself back on that injury bandwagon. So I am trying very hard not to do anything too stupid. That means, mostly, not racing for a while, not increasing my mileage too much, and not going too crazy with speedwork. That said, I do want to begin running some short road races. That said, I may yet consider the Hinckley Buzzard 25K/50K trail run. Then again, maybe not.
5) It had been a long while since I experienced a runner's high. You don't hear too much about this any more - I think people are slightly embarrassed to discuss it. But here is an interesting Wikipedia entry about endorphins. My experiences with runner's highs have been slight, and muted. But I've had them nonetheless. They always come after a long and hard effort, and are always unexpected. Today I was driving home and thinking about how grand my life is, when it occurred to me that I almost never think about how grand my life is.

Now... back to reality.

Two Terrible Tempo Tries = Foolish Fartlek

Now that I've been pain-free for a month or so, it sure would be nice, methinks, to add some quality. If I could.

I may have noted in the past that I have been doing speedwork: 1200 meter repeats - on the mill. But I don't do very good with them. I have this nasty habit of stepping off or holding on to the mill rails when things get tough. Even if I didn't do those things, mill running still isn't the same as the real thing.

So I have been trying to get outside more. It helps when the weather isn't downright terrible, and it really hasn't been so bad lately. The problem occurs when I combine outside running with any kind of quality. For this week's runs I tried on two occasions to get down to tempo pace. By my own definition, a tempo run is three or more consecutive sub-seven minute miles. If you guessed that I wasn't able to do so for these two runs, you'd be right. Since I did speed up and slow down at times, I called them fartlek runs. But even that's stretching things a bit.

And I know the reason why I am unable to do tempo runs anymore. I can't run three consecutive sub-seven minute miles because I can't run one consecutive seven-minute mile.

Brian

Runners are always much less concerned about revealing their age than non-runners. I suppose this has something to do with age group competition at running events. I therefore do not think that my long-time friend and running partner Brian Peacock will mind if I announce that it's his seventy-fifth birthday. In fact, Brian probably won't mind if I point out that 75 years is three-quarters of a century! I could go on...

His family asked friends to send any "Brian stories" they could come up with, so that they could put them together for his perusal (I'm sure this will happen at a party - I am sure it'll be a fun one. Wish I could be there.) Here are my Brian stories, written a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away:

.........

Excerpt from an article I wrote for Marathon & Beyond  (the Eccentricities of a Long Distance Runner):

…Speaking of shoes, here’s another case: Brian. My longtime friend runs as much as anyone and can certainly afford to purchase new running shoes. He doesn't in fact, buy any. How does he manage to train for and run marathons year in and year out without buying shoes? Simple. He accepts charity donations of everyone else’s old worn-out shoes. For his latest birthday party, he opened an aromatic box containing more than 20 pair of used running shoes. Such is the value placed on Brian’s participation in the Foxes and Hounds Great Lakes Relay Team. Brian tells me that the sizes of the donated shoes do not matter all that much to him. Lately he has been getting injured a bit more often and he’s actually wondering why.

Excerpt from an article I wrote for Marathon & Beyond  (Running’s Woodstock A Look Back at the 100th Boston Marathon):

…This was but a minor problem, however. The race and the entire weekend had been an unqualified success. Almost without exception, runners praised the event as something they would remember for the rest of their lives. This marathon, of course, was still 26 miles and thus not necessarily any easier than any other. One tired runner, hearing others gush about how great an event it was, exclaimed, “And the best part is, it’s over.” (Guess who that was.)

A story from the Great Lakes Relay in Michigan:

At one point, Brian was running and was about to hand off to me.  I decided to make the old guy sprint at the end of his run to tag me. It worked, getting a gasp out of him and a laugh from everyone else.  It just so happened that my next leg was also after one of Brian's.  This time I started slowly to give him a break. But some gratitude- instead of tagging my hand, he pulled down my shorts! This resulted in still bigger laughter from the onlookers.

Excerpt from my Book, The Long and Shorts of It:

Speaking of old age and cunning, on a later run I observed our friend Brian Peacock, who in turn surpasses me in both characteristics, employ a slightly more  direct technique: that of pushing Geoff toward some bushes before beginning The Sprint To The Finish.

It was while reflecting on these types of experiences that Brian first told me the story of the old bulls and the young bulls. Perhaps you've heard it before; it goes something like this:

There were two pastures divided by a fence with a gate. The higher one contained an old bull and a young bull; the other one had several very desirable and good-looking (to the bulls) cows. One day after the farmer left the gate between the pastures open, the young bull said, "Hey Old Bull, the gate to the cows is open! Let's run down there and smooch a few of them!" (Author's note: verbs other than smooch could possibly be substituted here, but since this is a family oriented publication...) The old bull then said, "Nope. Let's saunter on down there slowly and smooch the whole lot of them!"

I'm not sure exactly what this has to do with shoving Geoff in the bushes, but Brian can always come up with some kind of explanation.

Eighteen Good Miles

One of my many favorite episodes of Saturday Night Live features Steve Martin as Theodoric of York, Medieval Judge. After hours (well, minutes) of searching the web, I've satisfied myself that the video does not exist. But the transcript does, and there we can see where today's post title came from:

Theodoric of York: Wait a minute – perhaps she’s right. Maybe the King doesn’t have a monopoly on the truth. Maybe he should be judged by his peers. Oh! A jury! A jury of his peers. Of six good men! No wait! Eight good men! No!! Ten good men!! No, that’s not enough… 18 good men!! No, that’s TOO MANY. Let’s see… 11 good men! Wait! 13 good men! No… 11, 13, 11, 13… it doesn’t matter. Okay. But everyone should be tried by a jury of their peers and be equal before the law. And perhaps, every person should be free from cruel and unusual punishment. 

[ Theodoric takes a brief pause. ] 

Theodoric of York: Nah!!


I just love that - and the '18 good men' is what made me think of running 18 good miles today. Too bad it didn't happen. I did nine slow miles out on the roads, followed by a pit stop, followed by an inability to get myself back outside, followed by seven even lousier miles on the mill. So instead of 18 good miles, I did 16 bad ones.

Dan: Wait a minute - perhaps I couldn't run those miles today because my body needed an easier day. Maybe I'll have a good day another time, when I'm well rested. Maybe I should instead concentrate on doing six good miles!... No that's not enough... Maybe 20 good miles... No that's too many. Let's see... 11 good miles! Wait! 13 good miles! No... 11, 13, 11, 13... it doesn't matter. But everyone should only try to do what they're capable of, and no more. Every person should be free of cruel and unusual training.

(Dan takes a brief pause.)

Dan: Nah!!

By the way, one video that I was able to find is the companion skit, Theodoric of York, Medieval Barber. Check it out.

There's Speed, There's Strength, and Then...

...there's what I have. Which, of course, is nuthin.

Sorry about all the ... in the titles lately. I'll behave better. I promise.

The good news is that the knee pain is slowly subsiding. I don't know if it's something I was able to do for myself - like taking the Glucosamine, or doing even more stretching and strengthening - or if it's just something that had to run its course. Ain't that always the case? I do know that it definitely has helped to take it easy for the past couple months. Maybe half my miles have been on the mill, and most of the outdoor ones have been at an easy pace. Oh, and the mileage has been down as well; my last several weeks have seen between 50 and 60 miles.

Now, about that strength and speed, or lack thereof: I do try to pick up the mill pace sometimes, even doing 1200 meter repeats or tempo runs on occasion. These probably help a little, but they don't constitute real running. Today I tried to do a tempo run outside for a change, and could only manage a tiny bit better than eight minute pace. That's it for speed; it's as fast as I can go.

And as for strength, it ain't there neither. I simply cannot seem to run more than 13 to 15 miles without completely tuckering.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining about any of this; just stating the facts. Simply being able to run without pain is something to be eternally grateful for. May it continue for a long time to come.

Today's Run Began Terribly, and Then...

...it got progressively worse. But you knew I was going to say that. You knew that because of the famous, 'start slow, then ease off' mantra that so many runners follow or have heard of and follow.

The old knee is still improving, but only by fits and starts. I ran the Medina Half Marathon route with friends last Saturday without mishap, and I've been doing more and more on the mill. I'm even doing some speedwork and tempo runs on it.

There are only two problems with mill running: 1) it's not real running, and 2) it's too easy to step off or hold on. And I do number 2 all the time. Let me rephrase that. I hold on and step off the mill too often.

The one good thing about the mill, however, is that I don't have or get knee issues from it. It's only when I'm outside and on an uneven surface that I have problems. I think my knee just needs the smooth surface right now. Oh, and the mill does substitute for real runs fairly well when the weather's miserable outside. I guess that makes two good things.

Today's run began with 8 on the mill, and ended with a run outside on my 6-mile route. The mill run was actually half-way decent; the last 4 were at tempo pace. But no matter how good this run may have been, I still did too much holding on. I can't help myself.

Then came the outside part. I was a little tired after the first part, but otherwise okay. I started slow. Okay, I started extremely slow. After a third of a mile, I twisted my knee, giving me a sharp jolt of pain. I was only trying to negotiate the dark sidewalk, but this, apparently, is more uneven than the treadmill deck.

Occasionally you will hear a sports announcer say something to the effect that, 'the game was not as close as the score would indicate.' Today I did manage to keep going and finish my outside portion of the run. But my time? A new PW - 61:30 for the six miles. Don't worry. The run was much worse than the time would indicate.

It Has a Name

And the name is... Patellofemoral Pain Syndrome. It's also known as runner's knee. It's funny how putting a name to something changes the way we think about it.

I've had this pain on and off - mostly on - since last Thanksgiving. And I've had it before - about 25 years ago.

Doctor: Ever had this before?
Patient: Yes, a while back.
Doctor: Well, you have it again.

PFPS is characterized by clicking and pain due to misalignment of stuff in the kneecap. It's most painful going  down stairs and sometimes when running. Running is not bad until an uneven surface reaches up and attacks. The least little uphill or downhill can result in a very sudden and unexpected pain.

It's not too surprising, therefore, that my running, such as it was by the end of last year, is now totally down the tubes. I'm still trying to do some, but we're only talking 30-50 miles per week these days. And most of that is on the dreadmill. The mill doesn't hurt because it's as even a surface as there is. Once last week, 1/3 mile into a planned 11-mile run I stepped off the road and out of the blue experienced that sudden, awful pain. But I've had some other outdoor runs that weren't so bad - usually on weekends with friends (who humor me by letting me run and try to stay up with them).

I somehow have to get this thing under control. Maybe tomorrow I'll figure something out. Or maybe the next day.