Going a Little Too Fast

I've been pretty good about getting to the track once a week for the past month or two. Most track workouts (I hesitate to call them speedwork) take place at the Mayfield High School track. It's close to work, so I can drive up there early and beat the morning freeway traffic. After the run, I drive a couple miles to the Fitness Center, shower, dress, and then walk over to the office. It works.

Things took a slightly different turn today. I was minding my own business driving in on I480, when I saw the flashing lights behind me. Surely they weren't for me, I thought. Oh yes, they were. I got a citation for driving 76 in a 60. This is ironic, because I've been known to drive even faster, and may well have been, had there not been a car in front of me doing the same speed. I was the unlucky one. It's also ironic that traffic sometimes moves even faster still when there is somewhat more of it. This early morning there wasn't all that many of us about. I suppose it's easier for cops to single victims out when they're sparse.

Although I was a little upset, and although I was now starting later than planned, I was also determined to still run some (relatively) fast 800s today. Could I do as well as last week?

I could, and I did. Barely: only 1 second better per repeat. But an average of 3:43 is something I'll take.

It isn't too fast.

MCRR President's Corner

I am honored to have been chosen to become the President of MCRR. This has happened before, and now they want me back. Ain't that something?

As President, I contribute to the club newsletter in the form of the monthly President's Corner articles. Here is the first installment. I think you'll like it.



Now that I’m here, we’re going to turn this team around 360 degrees ~ Jason Kidd, as he was drafted to the then-lowly Dallas Mavericks


Thank you for your service. Yes, you’ve heard that before. In this case, it applies to your current and past members of the MCRR Board. These folks devote their time and effort to make MCRR the great running club that it is. This is volunteerism at its best. Excuse me, but I’m going to get personal. These personal thank-yous are in no particular order.


Christy Wilmoth: Thank you for stepping up to fulfill the job of President. I know you have a busy life and you probably didn’t need another place to spend your time. But you did serve us well. I’m happy you’re still on the Board. I plan to rely heavily on your experience.


Beth Bugner: You’re new on the Board, but of course you’re familiar to all of us. With your dedication to the Half-Marathon, the MCRR Scholarship, gobs of other things, and now the Board, you are the best of the best. What a great role model you are.


Harold Dravenstott: You’ve taken the Treasurer Role on for another year, and no amount of appreciation is adequate for that. It’s nearly a thankless job (except that I’m thanking you now), but it’s oh so necessary. You make it look easy, but I know it isn’t. Thanks for all your other volunteerism as well.


Tim Pepe: Welcome to the Board. I am certain you will provide very valuable contributions, as you bring your running experience and MCRR friends into the mix. I know you volunteer for a lot, and it’s grand that you’re joining us here as well. (By the way, since you missed the meeting, you’re lucky that you weren’t chosen to be President.)


Michelle Wolff: It’s hard to remember a time when you were not on the Board. And you do another job that’s not an easy one: that of Secretary. You’ve always been the most supreme of volunteers. MCRR (and I, your running partner) would be lost without you.


Karen Hammon: I believe you’re yet another person who is invaluable to the club. As Vice President, you do all kinds of stuff that no one else is willing to take on. I am so happy that you’re staying on in this role. Prepare to be leaned on. A lot.


Sydney Chinchana: You have made the newsletter great again. Greater than ever, in fact. I very much look forward to that thing coming to my email each month. When it does arrive, I read every word as if my life depends on it. I suppose it does to some degree since running is my life. You have become a valuable member of our Board, and also the entire club. For everyone else in the club, if you don’t already know Sydney, get that changed right away.


None of this is to say that there aren’t a whole lot of other fantastic folks in the club. I wish I could name all of you right here and now. Suffice it to say that your volunteering efforts are indeed appreciated.



As for me, it’s an honor to be on the Board and even more so to be chosen to serve as President again. I promise to do my best to help keep the lights on and to try to avoid doing anything truly stupid. I know. It’s a stretch. I do plan to focus on making running fun and fulfilling for all of us. It’s why we’re all here.


Volunteering and doing good things. It’s what makes MCRR great.

Featured Runner

Every month the Medina County Roadrunners feature a member in their monthly newsletter. Recently, I had my turn. Here it is:

Can you give me a short description about yourself?

I run a lot. But you probably already knew that. Instead, let me tell you a little about my non-running life.

My day job is this: I’m a project planning analyst specializing in software metrics. I positively love this work. More so when it doesn’t conflict with running, traveling, or spending time with the family.

Did I just mention travel? Yes, I like to explore far and wide. I consider myself lucky to have had some wonderful travel opportunities so far. And I’m planning more all the time. Related to some extent, I also like hiking, theater, good food, and other cultural stuff.

Besides MCRR, I belong to, and serve on the executive board of another organization called the Sierra Club. I have strong feelings about the environment, and I believe we all need to work together to leave the planet a better place.

I enjoy writing. I have three blogs on the topics of running, travel, and the environment. This is at least some indication of what’s important to me. I’ve written a couple dozen articles and I’ve self-published two books.

I mostly like spending time with my family and friends. This takes precedence over work, travel, and even running.

How long have you been running?

The bronze age was just ending. I was lucky that they selected Pheidipides instead of me to run from Marathon to Athens in 490 B.C. A little more seriously, I started running in the mid-1970s, when running became a thing. Sure, people did run before that, but it was mostly on the track. There wasn’t much road or trail running until that 1970s running boom.

My first marathon was also the first Cleveland Marathon in 1978. I didn’t know much about training, other than I needed to run a lot. That’s been my mantra ever since.

Do you run alone or with a group?

Both. Weekdays are mostly solitary, with a few exceptions. Weekends are nearly always with my MCRR peeps. I do prefer having the company. As you might guess, I’ve had a lot of running partners over the years, many of whom have become good friends. But none have been as great as my MCRR buddies. MCRR is da best.

Road or trail?

I love trails 1: The Towpath and similar trails – those that are straight, wide, and smooth - are just the thing for me.
I love trails 2: Slightly rougher trails like bridle trails are also fine, but for hiking, not for running. I don’t really like face-planting myself.
I love trails 3: Trails that are rougher still are also fine. Except for rocks. And roots. And mud. And ankle-twisting ruts. And stream-crossings. (Also see #2)

I don’t really like the hard surface of roads, but they work better for me overall. I do try to get 25%-35% of my running done on softer surfaces however.

Running in 0F or 90F?

How about neither? I think I suffer less in the cold, so I prefer the former. But I usually can survive the latter, especially if I’ve gotten used to it. Don’t get me started on cold rain, however.

Favorite race distance? why? 

Over the years, my favorite racing distance has undergone quite the evolution. I think my first fav was 10K. Even as I began running marathons, my 10K runs were always a great experience and challenge. At some point, it switched to the marathon. I think this was because I started doing so darn many of them, and because I actually reached a point where I was reaching my goals. Then came 100K. I did a few of them, and despite the challenge, I was happy with the results.

Now it’s been years since I’ve run that far. But I have done some 50s. 50 what, you ask? A couple years ago I ran a few 50 milers including the National Championship, and they mostly went okay. Maybe you can say that that was a favorite distance. Until it wasn’t. I haven’t even done one of those in a while now.

Now it’s just 50Ks. I’ve done a bunch, and I’m still doing them. So after all that, 50K is my favorite race distance. Wasn’t that simple?


Most memorable race? why?

If you know me, you probably think I’ll talk about the 2008 Green Jewel 100K. You know, the one where I had to run fast in order to get done in time to get on a flight to Europe, except that I got lost in the downpour yet still made it. Or maybe my only completed 100-Miler: Mohican in 2001. But no. Instead, allow me to tell you about my first sub-three hour marathon.

After that 1978 Cleveland marathon where I ran a 3:04, I had it in my head that I wanted to break three hours and qualify for Boston. Three hours was the standard for Boston for years and years, although it was even tougher for one or two years: 2:50. I tried to break three hours for eleven years, coming close a few times. Then finally, the 1989 Cleveland Marathon came around. I’d worked and trained, trained and worked, and I finally put it all together and ran 2:59. I remember the bright sunny day, the warm temperatures (which were not helpful), talking with others along the way. Mostly I remember the final quarter mile on Euclid Avenue. I was running fast and strong, and I felt great. Time seemed to stand still as I knew I’d made it, and just wanted to savor that moment.

Then something ironic happened. Within a couple weeks, Boston drastically relaxed their qualifying standards, to 3:15 in my case. I had already been qualified based on previous races. I still liked where I was at, however. I’d gotten the formula right, and managed to break three hours six more times. Nothing feels like running strong at the finish of a fast marathon. Nothing.

Dream race/destination?

There are a few runs and races on my bucket list. Rim to Rim to Rim in the Grand Canyon is one. Comrades (Ultra)Marathon in South Africa is another.

Favorite pre-race food/drink?

For a marathon or anything longer, a small bowl of cereal works well. And coffee. There has to be coffee.

Favorite post-race food/drink?

I don’t eat a whole lot of red meat. But for some reason, after a long race, I crave a nice, juicy steak. I suppose it’s the protein.

Favorite local route/place to run?

I love Hinckley, but in my mind, it’s the Towpath. Peninsula and the Station Road Bridge areas are some of my favorite places on Planet Earth.

Do you cross-train? If so, what do you do? 

I lift weights – light ones – a few days a week. I also swim (poorly) about once a week.

Have you ever run in costume? What was your favorite costume?

No, but some people say I dress funny anyway. Also, there was that time that I stood in for Roy Heger as race-director for the day so that he could run his own race, Run with Scissors. My wife helped me disguise myself to look like Roy, and he sure was surprised to see me!

What’s the most ridiculous thing a non-runner ever said to you?

After a friend and I trained together and ran that first marathon, an incredulous non-runner asked, “How did you ever train for such a thing?” (Remember, marathons were rare in those days.) My running buddy, who just didn’t want to get into all the intricacies of our training regimen, replied, “We ran a lot.”

Name of an MCRR member that you want to us to interview next: 

Christine Orwin

A Ten

1) To run fast, you have to start fast. Or is it: Don’t start too fast; save something for the rest of the repeat and finish strong. What to do when you consider conflicting advice? Both things, of course. I’ve started my Yasso workout at Buckeye H.S. track. Lap one is always the toughest, except for the other nine. I’m starting with the philosophy that I do need to begin fast, but not so much that I feel it a whole lot. This before the devil knows your dead strategy is something I apply to the first 200 meters of every 800-meter repeat. It seems to work, as the next 400 meters feel tough, but not exhausting. I’m able to run the final 200 meters fairly fast. Even so, I’m pretty tired after this one. And egads, I have nine more to go. 3:47.

2) Last week I managed to run the ten 800s at an average time of 3:50. That was a little slower than I’d wanted, but at least they were steady and consistent. Today I want to do them all under 3:50. Is it possible? Well, I did okay on my first one; all I need to do is continue running that fast for all the others. This one seems a teensy bit easier than the first. 3:46.

3) Light rain is falling on and off. The 69F temperature doesn’t feel too bad, but the humidity is through the roof. This repeat is feeling easier still, and I’ll get a quick water break afterward. 3:43.

4) I pick up a little trash whilst going around on my recovery lap. This is just something I do when the notion hits me. One item is a water bottle that seems full. I twist off the top and hear the familiar click to indicate that it hadn’t been opened before. This is good; now I can drink at the edge of the track rather than going all the way over to the water fountain, saving me at least 25 extra steps each time. It’s official. These are definitely getting easier. At least a little. 3:44.

5) I hear footsteps and look back. No one is there. The noise is my own big floppy shorts, soaked with rain and sweat, flapping in the wind. Since I’m the only one at the track this early morning, and since I’m traveling clockwise (something I never do when others are present) the noise did manage to spook me just a bit. Not enough to run faster, however. 3:43.

6) After that last one, I took a water break (out of my new-found bottle) and stopped to stretch for just a minute. It’s always hard to get moving again after a brief rest like this, but here I go. I’m only half-way done and I feel shot. How in the world will I be able to do five more? 3:44.

7) Well, now it’s only four more. That sounds so much better. Maybe I will indeed be able to do this. 3:44.

8) Number eight somehow sounds better than three more to go. I’m not sure why that is. It sounds even better to say when I’m done with this one, I’ll only have number 9 and number 10 to finish. 3:44.

9) I’ve seen it happen. Occasionally, I’m able to pick up the pace during the final one or two laps such that they are my fastest two of the bunch. Today is not one of those occasions. But at least I’m not slowing down, either. 3:43.

10) Now I think I am going to make it. The last one always feels good to say to oneself. For this and the last couple, I skip checking my watch at the first 200 meters. I’m still following the before the devil knows you’re dead strategy, and it’s working well for me. I only look at the end of each 200-meter section after that. As with number 9, I can’t run any faster, but I don’t slow down either. No big deal. I’m extremely gratified to be finishing and to have met my time goal for the day. 3:43.

When Coffee Doesn't Work, Part 257

It's part 257 because I know, I absolutely know, that I've written about this before. Here's the July, 2019 edition.

I'm awake (barely) and out of bed around four. That's a half-hour later than usual, but I figured I'd need this extra sleep on a Monday, and I was right. Almost. I actually needed more. What's so special about Mondays I wonder? I didn't go too very wild over the weekend in terms of running, or anything much else. Just my meek, usual routine.

Okay, I did run 30-plus miles when you combine Saturday and Sunday's mileage. But that's not all that unusual. Saturday's 21 was on the Towpath. I get down there once a month or so, and it's still one of my favorite running venues. Saturday I ran with Mike George and J.C. Jones.

I shuffle over to the already-made coffee. Thank goodness for the auto-timer on the Mr. Coffee machine - otherwise I'd have to wait 90 seconds for the first cup to brew. But today's a two-cup day, and two cups still isn't enough. All the coffee in the world isn't enough.

By around five, I'm out the door, shuffling along on my five-mile route. (I don't need to go so far today.) And I do mean shuffling. Even though I don't look at my watch, I know I'm only doing something in the neighborhood of 13-minute miles. And speaking of the neighborhood, I don't even make it out of mine. This five-mile route is simple: five one-mile loops around the block, with a teensy bit of variation built in.

There are times when I start as slow as I did today, but eventually wake up and begin running better. Today is not one of those days. I continue at shuffle pace, and actually make it through the run with the minimum number of steps necessary to consider it a completion of the five-mile course.

Maybe I'll wake up as I commute to the office. Maybe not.

Annual MCRR Poorly Organized Summer Run and Picnic

The 2019 version of the Annual MCRR Poorly Organized Summer Run and Picnic at Hubbard Valley County Park lived up to its name and reputation. Hot and humid, check. Some great running, check. Lots of fun, check. Poorly organized, double-check.

The early rain gave way to clouds, humidity, and mud, and that eventually gave way to sun, heat, and even more humidity. Being the Race Director (indeed, the entire Race Committee), I took it upon myself to lead the first 2.6-mile loop. At least I thought it was 2.6 miles. It may have been a little short, but I’m sticking to my distance anyway.

Although it didn’t rain much, the trails were surprisingly muddy. The humidity wasn’t so much a surprise, however; it was expected. When the sun came out later on, things got real. It hit around 88 degrees by the time we were done.

I ran early miles with Debbie Horn, Christy Gnat, Beth Bugner, Kelly Parker, Frank Dwyer, and Bob Pokorny; probably others as well. Later miles were with Ladd Clifford (it has been years since we ran so far together) and Debbie Horn. It was great to catch up with so many of these friends, and of course great that they all showed up in the first place. Altogether, eighteen brave MCRR souls ran this day.

Most of the gang never planned to run the full 50K (12 laps), but I did. So it seems, did Debbie. She was stalking me and Ladd, and I slowed more and more each loop. She and I wound up running the last one together, where we continued our previous conversation involving travel tales. That helped pass the time and make the last lap not quite as bad as the previous couple.

Yes, I’ll still call this a 50K, even though it may have been a tad short. And yes, I’ll still call this a win, even though I tied with the only other 50K finisher, Debbie.

Now, on to bigger and better things. Wait. What could be bigger or better than this?

And the other 90% is physical

I wanted to entitle this post, And the Other Half is Physical, but after a quick search, realized that I'd already used that phrase. But the original reference is of course to Yogi Berra's famous saying, Now I'm thinking that it's 90% mental AND 90% physical.

All that said, tomorrow's Annual MCRR Poorly Organized Summer Run and Picnic should be interesting. The temps will be in the nineties, with very high humidity. AND I'm still nursing these darn knee and achilles injuries. Despite alternate bouts of pessimism and optimism, I'm surely not anywhere close to 100%. I will, however, giving it the full 90%

Physical Well Being Update

Not long ago, I posted that Things were going a little too good, and of course, something bad had to happen: in this case, a knee injury. Here's the latest.

Last week, I took four days off in a row. This is highly unusual. I did run a long one over the weekend as I started back up. The knee still hurt at that time, but perhaps not quite so much. By the way, I'd stopped wearing the Kinesio tape on my Achilles; only on my knee. And also by the way, my Achilles has been pretty darn good lately, even sans tape.

Although the knee pain seemed to be slowly improving, imagine my surprise when I awoke to no pain at all yesterday. I ran my usual ten miles, and still no pain. So my current state is: Achilles: 90%, Knee: 85%.

Based on all this optimism, you can probably guess what time it is. Time to do something really and truly stupid. Like, try to run 50 kilometers (or so) in the heat this Sunday.

Things were going a little too good

Things had been going a little too good. My Achilles Tendonitis was much better. I'd been running farther, faster, and generally just better. I'd been thinking about my seemingly bright racing future.

But it crept up on me, as these things always do. At first, I thought it was some kind of shin splits, since it was on the front of my shin. Mostly the upper part. But then it got worse and worse, and I slowly began to realize that it's my lower knee and not my shin. It's the same leg that the Achilles is still healing on.

So now it's really bad. Bad enough to keep me from running today. I may need to skip tomorrow too. Where will things go from there? Who knows, but whoa is me.

Twin Sizzler 2019 Edition

For the life of me, I don't know why I don't do these races every single year. It's such a lot of fun. Oh yeah. now I remember. It's because it's always so darn hot!

MCRR Friends before the start

First the Fun Part: All my old and not quite so old friends were there. It's just great to see everyone and to catch up on new and old running stories. Another fun thing is the Medina Square. It's just buzzing with activity. What a great place. And then there are the races themselves. The 5K is usually fast, and the 10 is usually hot as Hades. This brings me to the....


Now the So Darn Hot Part: Although it's early, the 5K itself was Hot, Hot, Hot this year, and I suffered mightily. The 10K, coming at 9:00, was even hotter. Harold Dravenstott and I ran the first two miles at an easy pace, and this was a really good thing. Even though I couldn't catch Theresa Wright, I felt better for the middle and late miles.

Harold Dravenstott thought he could sneak up on me. Who won? Depends on the camera angle!

I somehow won my So-Old-They-Shouldn't-Even-Have-This-Category-Anymore Age Group for both races.

Me with my two first place medals

Junk Miles

There was a time when I considered anything slower than nine-thirty per mile pace to be junk miles. These days, if I can run but one mile at that speed, it's cause for celebration.

Just kidding. I can do two, sometimes three entire miles at 9:30; sometimes even all in a row.

Back to the old days. I went through a phase where I declared war on junk miles. No miles, not even one, would be slower than 9:30. Not for an entire year. Guess what? I did it. And here's the further surprise: it worked. I actually got faster and had a good year. But alas. It didn't last.

These days, I don't think there's an upper limit as far as pace is concerned. My junk miles have junk miles. Anything goes.

Today's run is a good example. It's Monday, and for a variety of reasons, Mondays aren't such good running days, so I didn't expect much. Even so, I did want to do something of substance, what with the Twin Sizzler looming in a few days. At least ten miles. And at least some speed of some kind.

I hit the Mayfield track at exactly 5:00 AM. It's cool; the best running weather in a couple weeks. I start slow. Very slow. Excruciatingly slow.But that's okay. After 24 Lester Rail Trail miles on Saturday, and hellacious Hinckley Hills Sunday, setting the world on fire isn't an option today. But anything at all faster than average, combined with a decent overall total of miles will do.

People come by, so I slow down some more. This is the opposite of what usually happens. When there are others around, I generally want to show off at least a little. Then more people come. And of course I slow down even more.

Now I'm barely walking. It takes about an hour and a half to run seven shuffling miles. And that's all the time I have. I stumble back to the car and go to work. I didn't do ten, and I didn't even do anything of substance. I'm a miserable failure.

Okay, maybe not quite so miserable. Things truly aren't that bad. It was just time for a stinker. And this was it.

Historic Run

For those who are thinking about the Subject line of this post, you're probably wondering how an old bald guy can do anything at all historic these days.

Well I can't. Or at least I can say I didn't. But give me time. I still plan to be the Greatest Runner Who Ever Lived. It's just going to take time. But what was historic about this run was the location: Martinsburg, West Virginia. We were staying here in order to visit nearby Harpers Ferry National Historical Park; it came as a surprise to me that the town of Martinsburg is historic as well. Upon later reflection, it seems that all of the towns and villages in this part of the country have some local history to be proud of.

Martinsburg has buildings dating back to 1812, at the least. Many of the others are from the Civil War era. One of the most important events occurred when Southern troops led by General Stonewall Jackson, occupied the town, and burned some buildings including the train station and destroyed 38 miles of track, all with the help of a famous accomplice: a 17-year old girl.

I learned these events during my run, but then it got serious. Of course I had been running slow to take all this in. It was good to have an excuse, since I always run slow anyway. I hit the high school track to get on track, so to speak, and that did the trick. I was able to get a 4-mile tempo run in.

This brought the total to 13 miles. Not one of my very best runs, but a pretty decent one.

Sweet and Savory Sixty Mile Relay

Relays are fun. This one, the Sweet and Savory Sixty Mile Relay was especially so. Our team, Over the River and Through the Woods, was made up of Darryl Mika, Joe Vasil, Jerry Storer, Dan Ogonek, and Jan Frandsen. I knew Joe, Jerry, and Darryl from work, and it was nice to meet Dan and Jan.

There was a bit of trepidation on my part. I hadn't heard much about the event - would it even come off at all? I didn't know some of the guys - would we all get along okay, and would we all be able to run our legs during the event itself? I would wind up with the most mileage, including a tough leg 8 - I wouldn't let the team down, would I?

These and other fears turned out to be groundless. Our team - a bunch of slow old guys though we were, did just fine. Not great, mind you, but fine. I ran okay - slightly better than expected. And it was fun all around.

90%

Of course 90% is an attitude, since there's no way to measure such a thing. Okay, maybe you could consider heart rate, but HR is not the entire story, and besides, I mostly don't fool with it.

I do indeed fool with the 90% thing. Here's what it means: give 90% effort for 90% of the run. Why 90, and not 100, you ask? Good question.

The idea is that you are only giving 90% for that first 90% of the run, but you have something left in the tank for that final 10%. When you get there, then you give it the whole 100.

Event, distance, competition? Doesn't matter what or where. The 90% solution applies. I think of it during some of my more intense runs, especially races and intervals. Today, it was mile intervals. I ran smooth and fast for 3 1/2 of each four-lap effort, then put the pedal to the metal for the final 1/2 lap. The hope is that even at 90%, I'm still moving fast. Yet I have enough left to finish strong.

I've got to concentrate a little more to apply this in races. My 90% should equal my competitors' 100%. Then when I bring it up to 100, no one can stay with me. Another thing that helps is to be the greatest runner of all time.

AT - An Update

I know. You're tired of hearing about my Achilles Tendinitis. Believe me, I'm tired of talking about it, and tireder of having it in the first place. It's been five years, for heaven's sake.

Five years of general, nearly non-stop pain. Five years of step, ouch, step, ouch. Five years of trying everything and anything to fix it, with no lasting success.

Okay, now here's the update: I still have it. But there is some good news. I've been trying even more of the usual stretching and strengthening, but also Lidocane patches and kinisio tape. Some combination of all this, but I think mostly the tape, is resulting in reduced pain.

How much, you ask? Hard to say. But it is definitely noticeable. Will the improvement continue? Who knows. We can only hope.

With the reduction in pain comes more and better mileage. I followed last week's 26 with a decent week (over 70 miles, including some speedwork) and 24 yesterday.

I'm almost afraid to say it, but things are looking up.

Not Quite as Expected

Two weeks after the painful Cleveland Marathon; one week after the tedious Medina Half Marathon, you'd think I'd be ready for a break. But I did want to get a long run in. Long in today's case is defined as 20 or so miles. Any more than that would be icing on the cake.

Friends from work would be running on the Towpath as they often do on Saturdays. I decided to meet them, but to get some miles in early to ensure longness.

I'm awake at 3:30 and in the car at 4:20. I begin my run at Station Road Bridge at 4:55. The others (Joe Vasil, Mike George, and Scott George who's no relation) are coming at 7:00. I plan to circle back.

This provides two hours of tremendous towpath training trotting. In the old days, I could run from Station Road to Peninsula and back - fourteen miles - in two hours' time. Yes, I know. That was then, and this is now. I'll just do what I can. What I can and what I want are more and more frequently two different things these days.

I only manage twelve miles. That's pretty poor, but it doesn't bother me too very much. I did enjoy this return to Cuyahoga Valley National Park. It had been a while. Too long, in fact. And as it began to get lighter, I did manage to pick up the pace. A little.

Scott, Mike, and Joe had planned on fourteen miles as well. My original plan was not to go that far with them; just enough to make it to twenty-ish. We get moving at an easy pace.

But lookyahere. After some nice conversation and other distractions, I find myself in Peninsula with them. Now all I had to do was run back.

This part is a little tougher. We become splintered a little, and I run mostly with Mike. It's good to catch up on even more stuff. Before I know it, we're back in Brecksville. I ran 26 miles.

That actually exceeded my expectations. And that's pretty rare these days.

The Medina Half Marathon

1:55. I survived another hot one.

Actually, it wasn't so bad. I kept a steady (albeit slow) 8:50 pace throughout. Although it was warm and humid, I managed much better than last week. I suppose that being half the distance helped.

Of course the X-Factor is that I'm only six days away from that debacle in the Cleveland Heat. I'm still getting over that one.

And I also helped by volunteering at the day-before Expo and at the early-morning course setup.

But at the race, I persevered. I therefore feel better now. Mostly. Thank you.

One more thing: I was third in my ancient age group. Just like last week. Only different.

The 2019 Rite-Aid Cleveland Marathon

It was a beautiful day in Cleveland. I thoroughly enjoyed running all through my fair city. I ran as well as I could have expected, and had a wonderful time doing so. I’m encouraged to return again next year, and to soon run a lot of other races as well.

None of that, not a single word, is even the least bit remotely true. I’m sure it (the 2019 Cleveland Marathon) was my worst ever. The slow time (my slowest ever road marathon) doesn’t begin to tell the story. Neither does the temperature reading (I think it hit 86F, although my car was telling me 89F as I was driving home.

What does tell the story is this: today stunk, my race stunk, and I stunk.

Allow me a few additional observations.

- I mentioned in my pre-race blog post that I probably shouldn’t even show up for the start. I was right. In fact, running is stupid. And running marathons is stupider.

- I also mentioned in said post that this would be my nineteenth Cleveland Marathon. Now I’m legitimately wondering whether there will be a twentieth.

- Hot weather is never good for distance running. Now then, I’ve run a handful of races that were even hotter than this. But I’ve never suffered so greatly. I think it’s partly/mostly because I’m also out of shape as well. Out of shape + oppressive heat = a nasty outcome.

- I think it was already around eighty by the time I was only about half-way. When I hit that point, I was just under two hours, but I knew the second half would be a death march, and I was right.

- Also regarding the heat, I did consider that since sweat cools the body, and since I’m sweating profusely, and since I have more than my usual surface area these days, all should be good. Right?

- I saw several friends at the start and along the way. That’s one of the things I do like about the Cleveland Marathon.

- Another thing I like about the race is that it does show off my fair city in a good way. I often make mental notes like, this is a cool place. I’ll have to return and enjoy it more when I’m not running a stupid marathon.

Let me close by saying that running is stupid. And running marathons is stupider. Oh, I said that already? Sorry. My brain is baked to well-done.

If I Get Through This Thing

My shirt from the first (1978) Revco Marathon. It was also my first marathon

If I get through this thing, it will be my nineteenth Cleveland Marathon, and my eighteenth Cleveland Drugstore Marathon. The oddball was the Greater Cleveland Marathon that was held only in 2001.

You laugh when I say, “if.” I don’t think it’s all that funny; not making it is a real possibility this time. I am probably the heaviest I’ve been for any of the bunch, and I’m definitely running slower than ever. Also, did I mention the heat? It’s going to be awful tomorrow.

But since you asked (you did, didn’t you?), here’s the sad list. Sad because of the increasingly long and slow times. 2019 will likely be the slowest yet.

Number	Marathons I've Run	Date	Age	Time
1	Revco Cleveland	5/14/1978	25	3:04
8	Revco Cleveland	5/21/1989	36	2:59
12	Revco Cleveland	5/19/1991	38	3:16
17	Revco Cleveland	5/17/1992	39	3:23
49	CVS Cleveland	4/29/2000	46	3:07
53	CVS Cleveland	4/29/2001	47	3:09
54	GCM Cleveland	5/6/2001	48	3:23
57	CVS Cleveland	4/29/2002	48	3:14
65	Rite Aid Cleveland	4/25/2004	50	3:10
69	Rite Aid Cleveland	5/22/2005	52	3:18
76	Rite Aid Cleveland	5/21/2007	54	3:22
83	Rite Aid Cleveland	5/17/2009	56	3:35
88	Rite Aid Cleveland	5/16/2010	57	3:13
93	Rite Aid Cleveland	5/15/2011	58	3:16
97	Rite Aid Cleveland	5/20/2012	59	4:06
100	Rite Aid Cleveland	5/19/2013	60	3:39
104	Rite Aid Cleveland	5/19/2017	64	3:56
106	Rite Aid Cleveland	5/20/2018	65	4:13

Had enough? No? Okay, one more list. Seeing as though I’ve run Cleveland more often than any other marathon, what are those other counts? Here goes.

Marathons I've Run	Number of Times Run	Average
Cleveland	18	03:21
Detroit Free Press	12	03:09
Boston	10	03:18
Scotty Hanton	10	03:13
Towpath	6	03:14
Columbus	4	03:13
Glass City	4	03:23
Inland Trail	4	03:18
Ohio/Michigan	4	03:06
Chicago	3	03:24
Erie	3	03:36
Landis Loonies	3	04:03
Tahoe Triple Day 1	3	03:49
Akron	2	03:49
Athens, OH	2	03:22
Martian Marathon	2	03:19
Northern Ohio	2	03:51
Ocala	2	03:19
Run with Scissors	2	05:31
Sy Mah	2	03:11
Air Force	1	03:29
Austin Motorola	1	03:12
Bayshore	1	03:06
Brunswick	1	04:18
Canton Marathon	1	03:47
Honolulu	1	03:14
Huntington Marathon	1	03:12
InFirst Bank Veterans	1	03:46
Jacksonville Breast Cancer	1	03:58
New York	1	03:27
On My Own Two Feet Kent	1	03:53
Prague International	1	03:28
Whitefish Point	1	03:55

In the Moment

I had a moment just now. Without thinking, I went and registered for the Cleveland Marathon. The thing is a week away.

I must be out of my mind.


....

Having put that out there, I will say that I'm running a little (very little) better than when I wrote about having (or possibly not having) the heart of a champion.

I suppose I'd better train.