30A

When it comes to long runs, planning and preparation are paramount ~ Dan Horvath

Ain't it the truth? Like the other day when I returned to Conservation Park a second time and did not one, but two 9.5 mile loops all the way around. I'd planned that one out to the smallest detail, and it actually worked out. Today would be an exception, however.

A long run today, even though I just did one four days ago? Maybe. 2 more loops around Conservation Park? Maybe. Okay, no. Three of the six-mile course loops from the hotel? Maybe. Okay, probably. Except when I started out west, I failed to take Southfields Road North to do that course. I kept going to the end of Front Beach Road and turned left onto Route 98. Why run on the side of a four-lane 65-mph highway at 5:00 AM? I have no idea.

But when I got past Camp Helen State Park, I discovered, of all things, a sidewalk! I could keep going and even stay relatively safe! A minute later I learned that I had entered Walton County, where, it seems, they care a little more about pedestrians.

After a mile or so, I came to Route 30A. Having driven this way (it runs parallel with 98, but closer to the shore), I knew the sidewalk / all-purpose trail would continue. The question was, should I continue?

Proper planning and preparation would have had me returning to the Beachside Resort for water at least every hour or so. There is also the safety consideration of never being too far away should something go very wrong. To run nine miles away before returning amounts to taking a bit of a chance. Especially considering that I had been running so much lately (another planning and preparation thing). As you may have guessed by now, I did indeed turn left to keep going.

30A is a thing. We learned that by driving the length of it by accident once. It's a big, very expensive thing. The wealth and newness of everything is astounding. Town after town seems brand new or just being built. And homes and condos are priced from $300,000 to $10,000,000 and up.

Would I be able to run as far as Grayton Beach, where we had visited a couple weeks back? I had no idea how far it was. But I knew I was getting closer.

Still running slow, but okay, I made it as far as Deer Lake State Park and turned back. Now, how would that go? It went surprisingly okay. This would (probably) be my slowest long run of the several I've done in PCB, but it was a memorable one.

Mardi Gras 5K

After driving pretty far for the Tallahassee Marathon, and kind-of far for the Destin Valentine's Day 8K, I finally found a race closer to home: the Mardi Gras 5K right here in Panama City Beach. Only two problems: 1) it was darn cold, at least for here (mid-30s - there was even some frost on the car), and 2) it was a 5K.

I don't like 5K's, and I never seem to do well at them. Of course, the smart Dan Horvath would retort, 'Then you should do more of them! You should always do more of the things you don't like or aren't good at.' Good thing we don't usually listen.

But we did today.

My goal was to beat the 8:09 per mile pace that I ran at the Destin 8K. I had no idea whether that would be possible. Also, another age group win would be nice as well.

I started at an 8-minute pace, and that was tough. A couple older-looking guys passed me up in the first mile like I was standing still. Maybe they're younger, I thought. Don't worry, you're doing fine, I thought.

But I also thought that there are a lot of old Floridians. Not to mention a lot of old Snowbirds like myself. Competition ought to be fierce.

I slowed a bit in the second mile. Maybe it was the slightly negative thoughts. But then I managed to pick it back up again for mile 3. I came in at 24: 51, which comes out to 7:59 per mile. Considering my other races as well as my training, I think that's probably about right. I was also gratified to learn that I won my ancient age group. I guess those other old guys were indeed younger. I got a cool mardi gras award with beads and a pink bird.

Here I am by the race mascot. The local run club is "Draggin Tail Runners'

PCB Conservation Park

Get thee to Conservation Park, they said. It's a good place to run, they said. Okay, I'm here. Now what?

With over 2,900 acres and 24 miles of trails, Conservation Park is a gem for the city of Panama City Beach. I hadn't been unfamiliar with it; Debbie and I had walked there several times.

And on each occasion, we'd managed to get ourselves somewhat lost. Since we always found our way back, these were not big deals. But to manage such a thing when all the trails are wide, flat, and marked is quite a feat.

The markings were the problem each time. Color-coded trail marking should have helped, but it seemed inconsistent, and the names were very confusing. My plan today is to not get lost at all. I'll do this by staying mostly on the orange trail that circumnavigates the park.

Despite the huge area, there doesn't seem to be much variety, or even much wildlife within the park. Besides some cyprus wetland areas in the interior, there are mostly tall but sparse pine trees with a lot of scrub vegetation in-between.

It's foggy when I begin. I even encounter a little rain. Even though the trail is wide and flat, I encounter a few muddy areas. I'm not a big fan of mud, but today it's not too bad a problem.

I start slow, but by the time I'm about half-way around the 9.5-mile loop, I'm picking up the pace. It helps that the fog has now burned off, the sun has risen, and I can see my way through.

Not that there's that much to see. Just more scrub, pine trees, and straight-ish, flat trail. Just when I'm thinking that there couldn't be any less wildlife than this, a humongous gray bird flies closely over my head. It's going the same direction as me, but it just keeps going until it's out of sight. I think it's an osprey.

There are no other major surprises as I complete the circuit and stop for a drink. It felt good to gradually increase my speed (such as it is) throughout the run. Now I was ready for more. But how much more?

I could just jog a bit more to make it a double-digit mileage run. Or I could run a lot more (like eight-plus more) to make it a long run. Or I could take the goldilocks approach and run just a few more - not too much, not too little.

I have the time to do more than the minimum, but not quite the maximum. But most importantly, even though I feel alright at the moment, after some decent mileage and even speedwork over the past few days, I may regret trying to do too much. Goldilocks it would be.

And it's a good thing. Taking care to not get lost, I venture onto the interior trails, some of which are nice, soft wood-chips, for about three more. Now I'm really done. (Or, done done, as we used to say at work.)

The advice was accurate; it's a good place to run. I'll be back.

Halfo Yasso and Tale of Two Tremendous Tempo Trots

The fog is thick as I park near the Arnold High School track. Since it's my first time here, I don't know whether it'll be locked up like Brunswick Stadium. I'm in luck. The gate is wide open, and there is no one else around at 5:30 AM. This is gonna be great. I love the track.

But then I notice that the surface seems extremely hard for a track. Is it just a very hard rubber here? I reach down to touch it, only to learn that it's asphalt. That's not so wonderful. I like the softer surface of rubberized tracks, and I think it's generally a good thing. This, in spite of the constant turning. I try to mitigate that by reversing direction when no one else is around, and by running in the outside lanes occasionally.

Oh well. A hard surface it will be. After a slow warmup, I'm ready to do something of substance. What's that, you ask? More or less on the spur of the moment, I decide on half a Yasso workout, figuring that five 800's is enough the day after my long run. Besides, 800's has always been my go-to workout. Don't ask me why.

Even though the foggy air is so thick you can cut it with a knife, there is quite a breeze. The temperature - upper 60s - is fine, however. I do the first one in the 3:50s, and it just about kills me. Can I complete four more?

The second is even faster - under 3:50. And so is the third and fourth. Around about this time, I start to think that perhaps I ought to do six instead of five. But I make a deal with myself: if I can do the fifth one under 3:40, I'll call it a day.

And I do manage that sub 3:40. I'm done.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today's weather is a carbon-copy of yesterday's - 60's and heavy fog. Why in the world am I going back to the track once again? Because I had been thinking of doing some sort of tempo run later in the week, but later in the week may involve some heavy rain. So today, the day after yesterday, is the day.

There's another reason as well. Yesterday I had found a pretty blue Marlins hat just away from the track near a baseball field. It was so cool, and I wanted to take it and clean it up for myself. But I decided that no, I'll employ the methodology I usually do when I find something I want at a school track: I leave it for a day or two to enable the original owner - probably a kid - a chance to get it themselves. After some period of time, if it's still there, it most likely will not be claimed, so it's mine.
Well for some reason, I truly wanted this hat. It was just sooo neat! (I later learn that it's not a Florida Marlins Hat; it's an Arnold HS Marlins hat.)

The first place I head this morning is over toward the baseball field to retrieve that hat. Alas. It's gone. Either the original owner got it, or someone else did. I'll just have to remain hatless. Except for the ones I have anyway. I'll live. Oh yes. The run.

After a warmup, I start my tempo run. This means at least three consecutive eight-minute miles - quite the challenge for me these days. I (barely) manage to do it. I should say that my Garmin watch measures long for the track, so I am really running slower than that. But for tempo runs, I figure it's close enough.

Can I do another one? I'm pretty tuckered out, but I decide to try. I start this one really slow, but I somehow manage to run faster and faster and just barely make my goal.

So it's Two Tremendous Tempo Trots. And now I'm really done.

That Ends Well

You've heard it here before: all's well that ends well. Such was the case with the last two races: the Tallahassee Marathon and the Valentine's 8K. And such was the case with several of my recent mid-week runs, including the one to Camp Helen; in several cases I started really, really slowly, but managed to pull it together for the second half of the run.

But not always, I've had some stinkers as well. Yesterday I was going to try to do a long run, but I started super slow and only got slower. I only wound up with around eight lousy miles. This, in roughly the time it should have taken to do twice that far.

Today I would try again, Retirement is nice; I have the time to try, try again (to run long) even during the middle of the week.

It would be three six-mile loops. I started slowly once again. GI issues caused me to run at only 12-minute pace for that first lap. The second was only slightly better at 11-minutes per mile. Finally, the third was a charm at sub-60 minutes.

So this run did indeed end well. It's good when that happens.

Valentine's 8K Run/Walk Race Report

A race a week after a marathon? In Destin, Florida? Eight kilometers? Meaning I'd have to run fast?

Yes, yes, yes, and haha.

The race was the Valentine's 8K Run/Walk put on by the Northwest Florida Track Club. Debbie said she would make the trip with me, and so did our friends Patti and Mike Busser.

Temps were nice - 60-ish with bright sun and some wind. The race started and ended at an amusement park called the Track. We runners took off and my three companions went to breakfast. It was a nice little race out and back on the Destin residential streets.

I didn't go in with high expectations. Okay, maybe a teensy bit faster than last week's marathon pace would be nice. That would only be around 45 minutes. Surely I could do that, or maybe even faster??

Even with said marathon only six days in my past, I did okay. All my miles were in the low eight-minute range, except the last; it was slightly better than eight. My final time was 40:30. And I won my ancient age group.

Not too shabby.

Afterward, we had a nice walk around Grayton Beach.

Camp Helen or Bust

After two and a half miles of running on Front Beach Road (nice and quiet) and Back Beach Road, aka US98 (not nice and not quiet - it's a four-lane with lots of high-speed traffic), I turn into Camp Helen State Park. I'm feeling pretty good, considering Sunday's Tallahassee Marathon, but I'm nevertheless running slower than I'd have liked.

And now that I am running on sandy park trails, my slow pace becomes much slower. But the sunrise is spectacular, and I'm enjoying the return to peace and solitude. The trails are soft, which is nice, but some of the sandy areas make things difficult. After a few miles of these nature trails and the beach inspection, I return to the parking area in order to head back.

Now that it's lighter, I can read the signs. One tells me that I should be 'bear aware.' Egads, think I. Another tells me that I should have paid $2 for pedestrian access into the park. Had I been aware of this, I wouldn't have been able to pay anyway, since I don't carry cash. Finally, I see the sign that tells me the park opens at 8:00 AM. So maybe I didn't need to pay anyway?

On the way back, I head into Carrillon Beach, a newer community with shopping along with mixed housing. I promptly get lost. I unintentionally run around a nice little lake there to find my way back out.

And back home.

Tallahassee Marathon - 02-02-2020

He spots the finish line, and the clock above says 3:59:40. He begins his final sprint to the finish, but the problem is that he is already sprinting; it feels like he has been for the past six miles. Will he make it?

Let's back this up a few hours. He's out of bed at 2:40 and on the road by 3:29. Good thing he noticed - at the last minute - that there's a time-zone change between Panama City Beach and Tallahassee. A bit over two hours later, the GPS states, "You have reached your destination." Except that he hasn't. There's no one around. After circling around some, he finally figures out that it's 301 South Madison, not 301 North Madison. There's still time to park and check in.

It's cold - 41F. That's actually perfect for running, but his concern is the wind and what it might do to a certain not-quite-so-protected area. Pinning the bib on the front of the shorts may help a little, but he also - for good measure - stuffs a rag from the car down the front of his shorts.

It appears that the half-marathon is pretty big, but the full seems pretty small. Most of the full bibs have pretty low numbers; our protagonist is number 19. Right off the bat, there are hills galore. They're not huge, but they're enough to slow a person down at times. But the sun has begun to shine, and the air temperature does indeed feel about perfect. Our protagonist's countermeasures appear to be working.

He's doing most of his miles in the nine to nine-fifteen minute range. This is actually right according to plan to bring him in just under four hours. By the way, here's fodder for a future post: how did sub-four hours become a goal? The problem is that the second bathroom break takes a while. He hits half-way in around two hours and three minutes, give or take.

Now he has to pick it up some to still get under four hours. The good news is, the course has flattened out, and is mostly now all-purpose trails through various parks. The better news is that he's feeling pretty good at this point. Maybe negative splits will be possible this day.

Funny that it feels the same as it did when three hours was the goal. Of course, it does. Hey, what's another hour anyway? He passes mile 20 in 3:04. He's been picking it up, but he needs to do so even more now.

Miles 20-25 are the fastest yet, but he knows that it's still going to be close. The final 1.23 miles are fastest of all, but then he sees that clock. This is now as fast as he can go; as fast as humanly possible. He looks at the clock as he crosses the line, and it says 3:59:59. He made it!

Except that he didn't. He sees the results a little while later, and they say 4:00:01. The good news is that it also says that he won his ancient age group. And it also says that his chip time is about thirty seconds faster.

It's rare that a plan comes together this close to what was anticipated. But it happens. It was a nice race; a keeper. Maybe he will do it again next year. Maybe the goal will be different. Or maybe not.

Thirty-Nine and Rain

We know what you're thinking: Thirty-Nine and Rain are two words that don't belong in the same sentence together. Or maybe you're thinking that it's not two words, it's three. No, four. But if you're like me, you're brain-dead, and not thinking much at all. Even if your brain is out of commission, however, you do still know, deep in your bones, that Thirty-Nine and Rain is an abomination.

Abomination or not, I find myself driving down to Medina in the driving, cold rain. The Medina Half-Marathon course run - something we do about once a month - is at 7:30, but needing a long run, I am planning to arrive at 6:00 for the extras. Except when I experience the Thirty-Nine and Rain. That's when, five minutes into my drive, I turn around and go home.

I run six lousy miles on the mill, turn on the tv weather to learn that the rain is moving out, extract myself from the mill and the house, and make the drive.

The rain has indeed stopped, as I run the course with Rachel Daw, Kelly Parker, Michelle Daum, Tim Pepe, and a few others. Thirty-Nine and no rain is exceedingly much better than Thirty-Nine and Rain. We manage to not get lost (a challenge for some of us), and complete the run.

It turns out to be a pretty good day, after all.

70

No, he's not quite there in years yet. But he has been putting in some 70-mile weeks.

A few came at the end of December in the weeks leading up to achieving 3,000 miles for the year, and also training for the Brunswick Marathon. Another came unexpectedly last week, when he only managed 17 miles during Saturday's towpath run, and then had to run 18 at Hinckley the very next day in order to be able to say he put in a long one. Tallahassee is still looming, you see.

Would it happen again this week? It started off fairly well, with a couple runs with Michelle Wolff. But as the weather finally turned January, he took the mill.

The mill is nice and warm and dry, he thinks. He can catch up on Game of Thrones, which he's watching for the second go-around now that he has time to spare. He won't have to plow his way through the elements whilst on the mill, he thinks. Maybe the runs can be of higher than average quality.

Things don't quite work out the way he'd hoped, however. After two completely awful mill runs, he's climbing the walls. Even though the weather's still bad, he tries to make the drive to Hinckley to join his friends. Alas. The driving, even on the main roads, is treacherous, so he returns home to get his run in there.

That run is as awful in its own way as the mill runs had been. Cold wind and poor footing does not a good run make. He wisely calls it quits and winds up with only 59 miles for the week.

What a slug he is.

I like the display, especially because it doesn't include speed ;)

Busted

"Is there something you're not telling me," asks wife and faithful running spouse Debbie? "Why, no," says innocent-looking Dan. But he's secretly wondering what he did wrong this time. "Were you trying to pull a fast one, and sign up for the Tallahassee Marathon?" "I was only looking at it," says Dan, Guiltily. He determines that he must have left the marathon website open in a browser window. Need to be more careful, he thinks.

But he can't help himself. When he will be away from home, it's completely natural to look for running events in that area, isn't it? And to consider another marathon so soon after that last debacle? Pure foolishness.

So did he sign up, you ask? No, because there is no longer any financial incentive to register early. Dan can wait until a few days prior. Will he sign up? That's another question.

He definitely has been running. Now retired, he has lost at least one of his many usual excuses: having enough time. In fact, he often sleeps in and begins his runs at 6:00 am, rather than 4:30. But yesterday he had to start early to run with longtime running partner Michelle Wolff.

We will see how this weekend's long run goes, he thinks.

The Brunswick Marathon, January 1, 2020

The gang at the start                                                                                  photo: Kelly Parker

Frank Dwyer is surging, and I go with him. Kelly Parker and Larry Orwin fall back a bit. It feels good to run fast (fast being a relative term); we'd been climbing for quite some time; now we're past the iconic Brunswick water towers and have nice, gradual downhill here on Minor Road. It's also nice that unlike other parts of the course, there's no ice or crunchy snow here. Even though I know I can stay with Frank, at least for a while, I also know that I would pay later.

Even though I'll probably pay no matter what, I wise up and ease up and rejoin Kelly and Larry. Maybe Frank will also come back to us. Yeah, except that it's Frank, and Frank doesn't do that.

Three 6.55 mile laps into the four-loop Brunswick Marathon course, it's getting warmer, and eastbound sections like this one are just fine. The ice and snow around Brunswick High School and through Hopkins Park have been treacherous. But as far as I can tell, all twenty-five or so of us have managed to remain vertical. This is important to me since it's my race, and I wouldn't want to lose anyone. Runners who wind up with broken bones or fractured skulls tend to not return to run the same events in the future.

Said ice and snow have taken a lot out of me, however. All that slipping, sliding, picking up of feet, short baby steps over time and distance have made it tough. And then there's the wind. It was in the twenties at the start, and now it's in the thirties. But the west wind is strong, and those westbound parts of the run have been pretty brutal. Okay, enough excuses.

Larry finishes that third lap strong, but I'm not too far behind. He surprises me by announcing that he has to leave; I'd thought that he was in for the whole shebang. Kelly, tapering for Disney, is done as well. Now I'm alone as I begin my fourth lap. Frank is up there somewhere but is nowhere to be seen. I do spot a few of the other folks. It's been fun to reverse direction every loop and see the other runners on the course.

Last year I finished in 4:18. That's a slow marathon time for me, even now that I'm in my elder years. This year, I've been on about that pace, but I know my fourth loop will be a struggle.

It is. I slow to a shuffle and cross the finish line in 4:37. Frank beat that course record and established the new one at 4:16. All in all, seven intrepid runners managed to complete the entire marathon. Besides Larry and Kelly, a bunch of others also participated.

Good way to start the year.

3,000

The sleet is coming down sideways, and I don't like it. I never enjoy cold rain or sleet. But at least I don't have far to go: three miles will put me over the top, and I think I can manage that.

It's December 31, and I needed these three miles to get to 3,000 for the year. In my previous post, I talk about being a numbers (read: anal-retentive) type. I guess I am. Now it's time to think about 2020: a new year and a new decade.

But one more thing about 2019. Those 3,000 miles were staggeringly slow. A full minute per mile slower than 2018. And THAT was slow as well.

So now I have my goal for 2020 and beyond: run faster!

Another Reason I'm Running So Much

Yes, the Brunswick Marathon is looming. But there's also this:

I've always been a numbers guy, and that makes me a little anal-retentive. If you've read other posts in this blog, none of this will surprise you.

Upon returning from our trip, I realized that to get up to 3,000 miles for the year, I'd need to average about ten a day for the final two weeks. Challenge accepted. I think.

So far, so decent. Here are the stats as of today.

24 on the 25th

The sky is pink and orange and blue. The beauty of it is fairly distracting, and distraction is what I need right about now. I'm starting my fourth six-mile out-n-back lap on the Lester Rail Trail, and my friends Michelle and Andy Wolff, having joined me for lap 3, are on their way home. I'm a little tired at the moment because:

1) I started running a bit before four, and it's now around seven-twenty
2) 24 miles is a fur piece - much longer than I've run for quite some time
3) I have been running a lot lately, and it's possible (nay, probable) that all the mileage (18 and 11 over the weekend, and 10 yesterday) is taking its terrible toll
4) I'm sure there are a bunch of other reasons, but my rattled brain can't think of them right now

With this morning light, I can now see where I'm going, Not that sight is so very important on a course where you just run back or forth. The trees are all decorated with heavy frost, and their white tint seems appropriate for this Christmas Day run. So do the patches of ice and crunchy snow along the way. Those did surprise me though; besides yesterday's frozen fog, we've had several other warm days. I decide not to think too hard about this.

Yes, it's Christmas. What better way to celebrate than to do this 24-miler? And hey, I've got the Brunswick Marathon coming up in a week, and I've got to be able to run that far.

But now I'm going slower and slower. With just a couple left to go, my shuffle turns into and ultra-slow shuffle. And then I slow down some more.

That's okay. I do manage to shuffle on back to the car, and then I'm done. Done done.

Merry Christmas!

Running in Israel and Jordan

Tel Aviv


Not much time. But in my quest to run at every location, I need to get out and do something. Anything. All I can manage is to run around the block, which is decent sized, for a grand total of one and three-quarters miles. It’s all tall buildings and expressway overpasses. This is all too bad, since there may have been some nice running along the seashore. The seashore that I couldn’t get to.



Haifa


This time I am indeed able to get to the seashore. It’s right outside the hotel you see, and there’s a nifty bike trail. For two different runs, I go north and south about as far as the trail will take me, which is 7-ish miles one day and 5-ish the next. I don’t know how the running will be the rest of the trip, but this here is pretty darn good.



Jerusalem


After an orientation run, I think I’ve learnt where to go. We’re here for four nights, and I plan to run each day if possible. This day I do get to a small park that’s near the hotel, but the paths are all curvey and not entirely runnable. Okay, now where to go? Back to the hotel, which seems surrounded by busy streets and freeways, and out the other end of the complex. I’m on a busy road that isn’t too very busy due to Shabbat and I turn into the Hebrew University area. The running here is great – long roads in park-like settings and no traffic. I get nearly two hours in this time, but my Garmin only registers 8 miles. I think there’s something wrong with it (not really). I get a couple other slow easy runs in, and manage to get out each of the four mornings.



Amman


We’re only spending one night here, and as usual, I don’t have much time. This will be yet another orientation/exploration run. I find a) a parklike boulevard that’s not as long as I’d hoped, b) another cultural center that’s okay to circumnavigate, c) every taxi (and that’s all there are on the roads at 5:00 AM) wants to pull over to give me a ride, and d) the call to prayer.



Petra


I can see for miles and miles. Villages are lit up like groupings of jewels in the vast dark desert. They’re interspersed with the mountains that are nearly invisible in the darkness. I hear the 5:00 AM call to prayer coming from several of them. After beginning my run at a high point, I travel down – way down – and eventually wind up in one of said villages. Of course it’s bigger than it looked from afar, and I don’t want to get lost, so I just turn back. Until this point, there had been only the one road.

Now the moon is setting in the west, the direction of the villages I’d been admiring. The sky is getting lighter, and now I can see the distant mountains and desert floor better.

The run, and the one the following day were not great, or even good. But they sure are memorable, nonetheless.



Dead Sea


I hadn’t made it to ten miles yet. Today, my last on this trip, would be the day. I turn North out of the Movenpick and run on the service road (for resorts and stuff) that parallels the four-lane that parallels the Dead Sea. The street lighting is good, and there’s almost no traffic on this road.

I encounter a pack of wild, or at least loose dogs. I keep my distance, but I do need to yell at them a bit. At times I stay in the playpen area of the sidewalk. Yes, it’s barricaded in, for reasons that I don’t quite understand. Other times I’m back on the road.

The full moon is setting over the Dead Sea. It’s surreal. I run about three miles and notice that the service drive ends. I figure it’s time to turn back. I later learn that this is exactly as far North as the Dead Sea itself goes. It’s beginning to get light as I pass the Movenpick and keep going South.

There’s a lot of construction here, because heaven knows you can’t have too many Dead Sea Resorts. I turn back and stop in the room to let Debbie know that I’ll be later than planned. But I simply have to get those ten miles in. She is not amused.

I finish up, successfully getting those miles in. Finally.

My week of ~Running~ if you can call it that

This will be in backward order in an attempt to make it feel better. Maybe we’ll even have a not-unhappy ending.

Sunday: It’s the Buckeye Woods 25K/50K, and I have to go for it. Due to travel constraints, going for it today means starting early, getting two five-mile loops done, then doing one more with the main group as they begin their own journey at 7:30 AM. For the math-challenged, that, along with the extra mile, only adds up to 25K. This is my first departure from the 50K distance at this race (I’ve done nine straight, plus a summer one), but starting the run at 3 instead of 5 just didn’t appeal. Another thing that didn’t appeal was the weather: 37F and rain; not my favorite conditions. But I make it (in poor fashion), and I believe the RDs will give me credit for that. It helps to know people.

Saturday: My friends Rita Cognion and George Ziga are in town, so Joe Salwan and I meet them in Peninsula for a nice little run on the towpath. It is good to catch up with them. And it’s always nice to run in our lovely national park.

Friday: It’s Black Friday, and I have to work. I usually do work on this day to save vacation days. I am able to work from home, so it’s not so bad. Harold Dravenstott and Michelle Wolff are heading to Wooster to join in a group run they (Vertical Runner Wooster) call a Two-Hour Tryptophan Run. I start work at 3:30 AM, get a few hours in, then drive down to join the fun. And it truly is fun, as I run with Michelle, Harold, Debbie Horn and Michelle Daum. It’s as many 2-mile loops you can do in two hours, and then there are prizes based on that. I don’t get any prizes, but I’m glad I took part.

Thursday: It’s Turkey Day, time for a Turkey Trot. It’s been years since I’ve done one. This time it’s the Turkey Burner 5K in Hinckley. I follow Michelle Daum for the loop around the lake, and Harold D. follows me. I’m not extremely fast these days, but it feels good to move this un-slowly for a bit. And hey, I get a t-shirt and even an age group award medal.

Wednesday: I can’t get myself going at all. No run today.

Tuesday: I hit the track, meeting my co-worker and friend Colleen DeVito. We often meet at the track before work, but this may be one of the last times. On other occasions, I’ll often do some speedwork after running some with Colleen. Today I do not. I’m still tired from Sunday’s race.

Monday: I get a few miles in, but it’s not pretty. I’m still tired from Sunday’s race.

2019 Fall Classic Half Marathon and 5K

Always go before you go.

I usually do, and I sorta did this time. Except that it wasn't quite late enough. I was thinking about all the water and coffee in my belly and bladder as I was lined up at the start and began to run. I decided to remedy the situation by using the porta-john at about mile four. Forty seconds later, I was back on the run again, feeling more comfortable.

The goal was to beat the 1:51 I ran at Made in America, and also break the 1:50 "barrier." Running a half in the one-forties shouldn't be hard, should it?

The Fall Classic, in its 44th year, truly is one. I've done it a dozen or so times, and it never gets old. It's a double out-and-back loop in Cleveland Metroparks' Mill Stream Run Reservation. Today it was cool and sublime, even serene. It's also fun to see the other runners coming and going.

Coming through half-way at about 54 minutes and change, I knew I was cutting it close. No worries though, I'll just pick up the pace during the final miles, thought I.

By the time there were only a couple miles to go, I was indeed picking up the pace... I thought. Upon examination of the Garmin data, it now appears that I was only maintaining the 8:20-ish pace that I'd been doing all along. It only felt faster.

My finish time was 1:50:17 (or, if you prefer - as I do - 1:49:77), good for third in my ancient age group. It's okay in that it's faster than my previous half, but it's not in the 1:40s. I'm still trying to figure out who the other two old guys are.

And those extra forty seconds I mentioned? Don't even go there. Instead, go before you go.

2019 Made in America 1/2 Marathon

The start - I'm in the middle

Fellow Medina County Road Runner Jennifer Ridgeway and I park at the finish, then jog the short mile to the start area. It's about 40F, and now that we're warmed up, it feels like it'll be a great day for running. We say hey to some of our other MCRR buddies, and then we're off.

The first four miles are on hilly roads, then we turn onto the towpath for the flat remainder. I talk to a couple runners around me, but this relatively small field spreads out fairly quickly.

I am running just slightly better than 8:30 per mile pace. Doing the math (and this is complicated, but I've got nothing else to think about), I determine that I've got to pick up the pace just a little to beat last year's time of 1:50 and change. Maybe a fast final 5K will do it. Yeah, that's the ticket.

Regular readers of this blog may find this ambition - to beat last year's time - just a little familiar. Just last week at the Veteran's Marathon, I had been trying to better my 2018 result, but missed by a minute. One thing I am sure of: that this won't happen again. No, that is not possible.

Eight and a half miles in, I catch up with Jennifer. She has had some problems, but I convince her to run with me. It's good to have the company, and I think we're both benefiting. I also want to pick up the pace.

I (we) do. A little. Mile ten goes by in a little under 1:25 (editor's note: Dan used to complete entire 1/2 marathons under 1:25), and mile 12 in 1:41 and change. Now I really have to pick it up. Can I do it? Come in at least as fast as last year?

Crossing the finish line in 1:51

Nope. Close - within a half-minute (told you it wouldn't be a minute) - but no cigar. My 1:51 is still okay enough to beat all the geezers in my ancient age group, Never mind that Ron Legg, who's in an even older AG, beat me by a mile. Or two.

So it was a fun race and another pretty good result. Now I'm ready for whatever is next. Maybe a warm bath.

Jennifer Ridgeway and I

2019 InFirst Bank Veteran's Marathon

It's 8:53 AM EDT and I amble out of the car where I'd been reading for a half-hour. I wait in line for the porta-potty, and by 8:56, I'm jogging over to the start. The start, you see, is at 9:00 AM, but since this is a small race, I didn't have to be there any earlier than this. I should also mention that the race cost me fifty bucks. I registered a little over a week ago, just before the price increase to sixty. Had I been earlier, I could have gotten in for twenty-six. These are some of the many reasons I love small races like this. Not to mention that they're friendlier and easier-going. I should also mention that I did have to drive three hours to get here in Black Lick, PA. In case you don't know where that is, it's close to Indiana, PA.

I loved this race last year, and I ran well here. 3:46 and change (a lot of change, by the way). Could I do it again?

The cannon goes off with a BOOM, and off I go. It's cool (about 40), but not as cold as forecast. The early miles go by easily. I'm running at about the same pace as last year. Will I be able to hold it?

The Ghost Town trail is just as scenic as it was last year. The race is out and back, and that's another simplicity thing that I like about it. I reach the half-way turn-around in 1:53. This is perfect. But last year I finished strong. Will I be able to once again?

Although the second-half has a slight downhill grade, the wind is now in my face. It's not awful, but it may be taking a bit of a toll. I find that I am now working harder to maintain that same pace. During the last couple of miles, I slow down just a tiny bit. It's not much, but it's enough to prevent me from exceeding last year's time. 

This year it's 3:48; just over a minute slower than last year. I'm happy with it. Why couldn't I finish just a little stronger? The answer is blowin' in the wind.