St. Andrews State Park: would I be able to get in without paying the entrance fee? It's 06:00 AM; maybe there won't be anyone attending the gate. Would I be able to get around the park circle road? Find a bathroom? These and many other questions went through my head as I emerge from my hotel in Panama City Beach, run four miles down Thomas Road, and approach the park itself. Of course, the answers are: yes, yes (there wasn't), yes and yes.
It's just beginning to get light as I enter the park and run around for a few miles. I appear to be the only person in the entire park, but that's not entirely true; there's a camping area down one of the park roads. Still, it's pretty eerie. I run down one of the boardwalks to get a peek at the ocean. It's eerie too. But even despite the gloom, I can make out the pure white sand dunes surrounding the entire area.
Now, there's just one remaining question: can I pick up the pace for the trip home? The answer is, once again, yes. But traffic is picking up as well. I keep to the sidewalks as I complete the round trip on Thomas.
I'm back. That was fairly exhausting. And yet it took me all of two hours and ten minutes. That's a long time for twelve miles. I do a couple more miles for penance.
Now it's day two. Same loop. In fact, everything is about the same. This time it gets done in two hours, five minutes. Okay, that's a little better. I still do a couple more miles as penance.
Day three. Same loop. In fact, everything is about the same, except for one thing. This time, we will be leaving; I only have two hours and no more. Can I do that? I guess that's yet another question. And yes, I can, and I do. Each four-mile split is a little better. The result? One hour, fifty-eight minutes.
No penance is necessary; I don't run any further.
Tuesday, February 20, 2018
Saturday, February 10, 2018
Doin' my Motor Good
Maybellene, why can't you be true?
Oh Maybellene, why can't you be true?
You done started doin' the things you used to do
As I was motorvatin' over the hill
I saw Maybellene in a Coupe de Ville
A Cadillac a-rollin' on the open road
Nothin' will outrun my V8 Ford
The Cadillac doin' about ninety-five
She's bumper to bumper, rollin' side by side
Maybellene, why can't you be true?
Oh Maybellene, why can't you be true?
You done started back doin' the things you used to do
The Cadillac pulled up to a hundred and four
The Ford got hot and wouldn't do no more
It then got cloudy and started to rain
I tooted my horn for the passin' lane
The rainwater blowin' all under my hood
I know that I was doin' my motor good
~Maybelline, by Chuck Berry
Them be some of my favorite lyrics, and I don't even know why; I just like them. But why, you ask, do they appear in your running blog, Mr. Dan? The reasons are many:
1) The pace of the song is good for running cadence. In fact, it was going through this head of mine during a run a couple days ago.
2) Several of the lines (think: motorvatin' over the hill) can be repurposed into some kind of running context.
3) I like to think that maybe by struggling through the snow and ice during these wintery runs, I really may be doin' my motor good.
Oh Maybellene, why can't you be true?
Oh Maybellene, why can't you be true?
You done started back doin' the things you used to do
The motor cooled down, the heat went down
And that's when I heard that highway sound
The Cadillac a-sittin' like a ton of lead
A hundred and ten half a mile ahead
The Cadillac lookin' like it's sittin' still
And I caught Mabellene at the top of the hill
Maybellene, why can't you be true?
Oh Maybellene, why can't you be true?
You done started back doin' the things you used to do
Thursday, February 01, 2018
Get Ready to Run
First, you wake up. It’s pretty tough to run if you haven’t done this, although it’s not entirely impossible. You like to get out of bed between 3:30 and 4:00 AM.
After about eight or nine stumbling steps from the bedroom into the kitchen, you turn on the coffee machine. You hope to heaven that you prepared it all the night before. You are aware that you could save the four minutes it takes to brew two large cups if you would set the timer on the machine to have it already brewed when you wake up. But said timer never seems to work correctly for you, and you’ve given up on it. It’s probably a user error.
While you are waiting for the brewing to occur, you check the weather in one, two, or all three of three ways: you check the weather app on the computer, you turn on the TV to watch the morning weather guy, even though you probably need to wait until 4:00 AM for this, or you look outside.
You think about what you will wear for your run while you are preparing your coffee. It’s black on fast days; it’s light with honey on non-fast days. You need it badly, so you drink it fast. When it’s light, it tastes pretty good. When it’s black, not so much. Doesn’t matter though; you’re not doing this for the taste.
While you’re drinking your coffee, you spend some more time on the computer or watching the early morning news. YOU SHOULD NEVER DO THESE THINGS! YOU SHOULD SIMPLY BEGIN GETTING READY TO GO OUT. You may also do some push-ups in front of the TV. Okay, this is a good thing.
Now, after the coffee has had its exact desired effect, it’s time to dress. You start with the undies. You know: the kind with the extra padding in the front. This is for safety reasons; any manly bulging is a side-effect. Depending on the temperature and wind chill, you may add extra pairs of these undies.
On to shorts or tights. 30 degrees Fahrenheit is about the dividing line, although the wind and precipitation are also factors. Much below 30, and it’s tights. At or above 30, and it’s shorts.
The jacket/shirt divide somewhere around 45 to 50 degrees. Once again, the wind and precipitation also factor in. If it is indeed jacket weather, a shirt will always go on underneath. If it’s really cold, make that two shirts. Some of your jackets are reflective, and at least two are bright neon/yellow. You have lots of jackets and shirts.
The weather also determines any hats and gloves you choose. You have lots, but none of the gloves seem all that great when it’s really cold out.
Now it’s time to light things up. The first thing to go on is the Noxgear vest/apparatus. It’s a complicated thingie that flashes in all sorts of colors. It fits all around your chest and back. You have to reach in back to turn it on and off and to make it flash or change color. The whole thing is a little ridiculous, and you still have mixed feelings about it. Attached to the front of the apparatus is a little reflective light that flashes red. You figure it adds just a wee bit more light to the thing. Then you put on the headlamp. It goes over the hat if you have one. It’s pretty bright, but only when the batteries are fresh, which they usually aren’t. Your final light is this blue flashing heel wrap-around thing that a friend got at Marc’s for ninety-nine cents. It’s supposed to fit around the back of the heel of the shoe, but you’ve lost it (and then went back to find it again) twice when it’s fallen off. You now wear it around your ankle above the top of the shoe, but still over the sock. That makes it too tight. Later during the run, You’ll often switch it to your wrist. But then that will hurt too.
You are almost ready. It’s time for the shoes. You’ve already selected a pair from the four or five active ones you have got going. But before you begin getting them on (and after the socks are in place), you put on your Road ID. It has your name and contact information, in case you are found in a ditch on the side of the road, and they want to know who you were when you were alive. The loving wife makes you do this. The problem is that the darn thing is nearly unusable. The clasp is too difficult to work with, so you often try to stretch it over your foot. This is difficult because it doesn’t stretch enough and sometimes breaks away at the clasp. You’ve also tried putting it over your hand and wearing it on your wrist, but you once nearly lost it by doing this. Note that the Road ID people were sympathetic and refunded your money when you complained. They didn’t want it back, so you still try to use it.
You are now 100% ready. You go out the garage man-door and start your GPS watch. You wait for it to find its satellites (only a few seconds) and begin to run.
How does that go, you ask? Not bad, but that’s a different story.
After about eight or nine stumbling steps from the bedroom into the kitchen, you turn on the coffee machine. You hope to heaven that you prepared it all the night before. You are aware that you could save the four minutes it takes to brew two large cups if you would set the timer on the machine to have it already brewed when you wake up. But said timer never seems to work correctly for you, and you’ve given up on it. It’s probably a user error.
While you are waiting for the brewing to occur, you check the weather in one, two, or all three of three ways: you check the weather app on the computer, you turn on the TV to watch the morning weather guy, even though you probably need to wait until 4:00 AM for this, or you look outside.
You think about what you will wear for your run while you are preparing your coffee. It’s black on fast days; it’s light with honey on non-fast days. You need it badly, so you drink it fast. When it’s light, it tastes pretty good. When it’s black, not so much. Doesn’t matter though; you’re not doing this for the taste.
While you’re drinking your coffee, you spend some more time on the computer or watching the early morning news. YOU SHOULD NEVER DO THESE THINGS! YOU SHOULD SIMPLY BEGIN GETTING READY TO GO OUT. You may also do some push-ups in front of the TV. Okay, this is a good thing.
Now, after the coffee has had its exact desired effect, it’s time to dress. You start with the undies. You know: the kind with the extra padding in the front. This is for safety reasons; any manly bulging is a side-effect. Depending on the temperature and wind chill, you may add extra pairs of these undies.
On to shorts or tights. 30 degrees Fahrenheit is about the dividing line, although the wind and precipitation are also factors. Much below 30, and it’s tights. At or above 30, and it’s shorts.
The jacket/shirt divide somewhere around 45 to 50 degrees. Once again, the wind and precipitation also factor in. If it is indeed jacket weather, a shirt will always go on underneath. If it’s really cold, make that two shirts. Some of your jackets are reflective, and at least two are bright neon/yellow. You have lots of jackets and shirts.
The weather also determines any hats and gloves you choose. You have lots, but none of the gloves seem all that great when it’s really cold out.
Now it’s time to light things up. The first thing to go on is the Noxgear vest/apparatus. It’s a complicated thingie that flashes in all sorts of colors. It fits all around your chest and back. You have to reach in back to turn it on and off and to make it flash or change color. The whole thing is a little ridiculous, and you still have mixed feelings about it. Attached to the front of the apparatus is a little reflective light that flashes red. You figure it adds just a wee bit more light to the thing. Then you put on the headlamp. It goes over the hat if you have one. It’s pretty bright, but only when the batteries are fresh, which they usually aren’t. Your final light is this blue flashing heel wrap-around thing that a friend got at Marc’s for ninety-nine cents. It’s supposed to fit around the back of the heel of the shoe, but you’ve lost it (and then went back to find it again) twice when it’s fallen off. You now wear it around your ankle above the top of the shoe, but still over the sock. That makes it too tight. Later during the run, You’ll often switch it to your wrist. But then that will hurt too.
You are almost ready. It’s time for the shoes. You’ve already selected a pair from the four or five active ones you have got going. But before you begin getting them on (and after the socks are in place), you put on your Road ID. It has your name and contact information, in case you are found in a ditch on the side of the road, and they want to know who you were when you were alive. The loving wife makes you do this. The problem is that the darn thing is nearly unusable. The clasp is too difficult to work with, so you often try to stretch it over your foot. This is difficult because it doesn’t stretch enough and sometimes breaks away at the clasp. You’ve also tried putting it over your hand and wearing it on your wrist, but you once nearly lost it by doing this. Note that the Road ID people were sympathetic and refunded your money when you complained. They didn’t want it back, so you still try to use it.
You are now 100% ready. You go out the garage man-door and start your GPS watch. You wait for it to find its satellites (only a few seconds) and begin to run.
How does that go, you ask? Not bad, but that’s a different story.
Tuesday, January 23, 2018
Big Difference
Last year, I went several weeks early on without registering for any races whatsoever. Then, at the Medina County Road Runners Banquet, I won an entry to the Medina Half Marathon. Then, I went ahead and also registered for the Cleveland Marathon and the Green Jewel 50K. And, as faithful readers know, I went on to run several other half-marathons, marathons and ultras throughout the year.
This year, there's a Big Difference. I went several weeks early on without registering for any races whatsoever. Then, at the Medina County Road Runners Banquet, I won an entry to the Medina Half Marathon. Then, ...
The question is, what comes after the then. Each and every year, I say my goal is to run faster. I am well aware that the best way to do this is decidedly not to run ultras, or even marathons. The best way to run faster 10Ks and half-marathons is to work on my speed, not worry so much about mileage, and finally to actually run more 10Ks and half-marathons.
Will I?
This year, there's a Big Difference. I went several weeks early on without registering for any races whatsoever. Then, at the Medina County Road Runners Banquet, I won an entry to the Medina Half Marathon. Then, ...
The question is, what comes after the then. Each and every year, I say my goal is to run faster. I am well aware that the best way to do this is decidedly not to run ultras, or even marathons. The best way to run faster 10Ks and half-marathons is to work on my speed, not worry so much about mileage, and finally to actually run more 10Ks and half-marathons.
Will I?
Saturday, January 06, 2018
You'll Freeze Your Lungs
You might. But not before other parts of your anatomy.
After a couple days where I spent too much time milling around, I just had to get outside for today's run. Too bad it was about five degrees shy of the plus-one degree temperature that I experienced New Year's Day. Yes, it was one below when I started; four below when I finished. The wind chill was also correspondingly lower, at minus twenty today.
The shuffle, hardly what you'd call running at any point, became slower and slower as the cold became colder and colder. It was time to quit. At least while most of my anatomy was still intact.
The part that I lost? My mind, of course.
After a couple days where I spent too much time milling around, I just had to get outside for today's run. Too bad it was about five degrees shy of the plus-one degree temperature that I experienced New Year's Day. Yes, it was one below when I started; four below when I finished. The wind chill was also correspondingly lower, at minus twenty today.
The shuffle, hardly what you'd call running at any point, became slower and slower as the cold became colder and colder. It was time to quit. At least while most of my anatomy was still intact.
The part that I lost? My mind, of course.
Monday, January 01, 2018
8th Annual Landis Loonies Marathon Race Report
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| Just before the very cold start Dave Foisy photo |
First Loop
I’ve just climbed to the top of Mount New London for the ninth time, and I’m very much winded from the effort. Speaking of wind, it’s cold, and it’s hitting me hard in the face now that I’m heading down the backside. I’m running on what the locals call the Bypass, but the real name for the road is Biglow Parkway. Mount New London is my term for this not-so-huge hill, the only one on the course. I’ve run the Landis Loonies Marathon two times in the past, meaning I’ve climbed the hill eight times before today.
When people ask me where New London, Ohio is, I invariably answer, “Do you know where Norwalk, Ohio is?” They usually say yes, but regardless of the answer, I quickly follow up with, “Well, it’s nowhere near that.” It is, however, a nice little town in North-Central Ohio farm country. Kevin and Keith Landis put this race on each New Years Day, and they do a fine job of it. (Fun fact: they’re not really brothers, even though they’re fairly close in age. I believe Kevin is Keith’s uncle. I think they’re both teachers, with Keith’s base being New London High School.)
Kevin’s course instructions for the 6.5-mile cloverleaf-like loop were very clear: “When you’re heading away from town, and you feel you’re getting a bit too far away, turn. Then, after you curve around and begin coming back a little too close to town, turn. Keep doing this until you return back here to the gas station.”
Now, on my first time around for the 2018 race, I recall that it’s not so difficult to find my way. What is difficult is the three-degree temperature, the negative double-digit wind chill, and the snow and ice on the many of the roads. That said, I’m not feeling too awful, even on this, the windiest part of the course. I’ve dressed properly, so things are okay. So far.
Mount New London occurs about five miles into the loop. I can just barely see the six or so runners ahead of me. There’s a bunch behind as well. Why is it that I always find myself alone in the middle of these things?
Second Loop
I am turning into the road that takes us by the high school. It’s about half-way through the loop. It was difficult, but I’ve managed to catch a couple women. We run together, talking and telling stories for the remainder of the loop. Sure is nice to have some company.
This loop is just a little faster than the first one. Keeping them all under an hour would seem like a reasonable goal, and I’m managing so far. But I have a long way to go, and the conditions, they are challenging.
Third Loop
New London Recreational Park is pretty. It’s about two miles into the loop. Besides the snow everywhere, the trees are covered with a heavy frost, and they look positively magical. The falling snow is beautiful as well.
All of the runners ahead of me have dropped out. I am alone again, naturally. I guess that also means I’m in the lead. (Egads!) But I’ve slowed down some, and I’ve still got over ten miles to go. It’s a little difficult to tell much about my speed; I’m actually trying to avoid looking at my watch. Just go with it and enjoy, I tell myself.
As much as I am truly enjoying this run, and as much as I would relish actually winning a marathon, I am nonetheless tempted to cut the course. There are plenty of opportunities, and surely no one would know. Except me. I grudgingly stay on the straight and narrow.
Fourth Loop
Mount New London and the Bypass were more challenging than ever. The temperature has crept up a few degrees, but the wind has also increased. I am just barely running as I make the turn onto Main Street.
Between the third and fourth loops, I’d asked Kevin how many were still out there. His answer, 121, didn’t quite make sense to me. That is until it occurred to me that the conversation I’d walked into had been about farming, with Keith discussing the dairy cows on the family farm. After some clarification, we laughed, and then Kevin told me that Michael Kazar, Angela Demchuk and I were the only ones left. Those other two are accomplished ultrarunners, so I got moving again the best I could.
But my best was now pretty darn slow. The cold and not-so-great footing had taken its toll. I had stopped at the top of Mount New London to look back for Michael or Angela. No sign of them. It thus appears that even though I’m only slogging along, I may actually truly win this thing.
You know the way adoring fans line the roads as the winner comes to the finish of big-city marathons like Boston? Well, there was nothing of the sort in New London. I went inside the gas station to get congratulated by Kevin and Felicia Fago.
What was my time, you ask? Do I have to tell you? Okay, okay. I think it’s a personal worst, at least for roads: 4:25.
But it’s nice to win one. I suppose that if you hang around long enough, and run enough smallish races, and if your nemesis, Frank Dwyer doesn’t show up, good things may occasionally happen. It’s a good way to begin 2018.
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| In the gas station after finishing Felicia Fago Photo |
Sunday, December 31, 2017
2017 By the Numbers
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| Weekly Running Totals |
I am, and I always have been, a numbers guy. I analyze, count, measure and estimate stuff for a living, and I consider myself lucky to be doing these things that I enjoy. It's not too much of a stretch to understand how I might apply my enumeration habit to my running habit.
What are those numbers, you ask? I'm happy you inquired.
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| Totals for the year, from my Garmin data |
2906.82: Arguably the most important number; it's the mileage total for the year, and the most since 2012.
5.7 (or 10.53): My average speed in miles per hour, or, for the 10.53, my average pace per mile. This is in the not so good category. Just when I thought I couldn't get any slower since last year's numbers, this happens.
4,658,226: The number of running steps I took for the year. I don't know whether this is good or bad, but I like big numbers, so there it is.
2: The number of marathons I ran in 2017. I wasn't too unhappy with the times, especially Erie at 3:43.
4: The number of ultramarathons I ran in 2017. These were so-so. The two 50Ks were 5:14 and 5:11, and Mugrage Park was 33.71 miles, and I ran the Burning River 50-mile race in 11 hours, 10 minutes. Also, I finished second overall at two of them.
1: Age Group Win. I actually thought I'd get more, considering some decent performances at a couple half-marathons, as well as the marathons mentioned above. This win was at Burning River, where I was happy to just finish alive.
97,345.4: My life-to-date mileage total. Hoping for that sixth digit. Think I'll make it?
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| Life to date miles, year by year |
Saturday, December 23, 2017
Sweet Misery. Except it wasn't so sweet.
You've heard this here before. Some of my most joyous runs occur when the weather is at its worst. The converse/implication (that running in lousy weather always leads to enjoyable jogs), isn't necessarily true, however. Today's running was... well, you'll see.
It was a case in point. When I saw the cold rain, I ditched my running friends in order to stay closer to home. I thought I'd get it done with quicker and easier this way. Not so fast, said the weather and running gods. The cold rain (you know how I hate cold rain) soaked me to the bone. That's when I began to freeze up; cold and wet is just no good in my book.
The thing was that I had to get a long run in. Why did I "have" to, you ask? That's easy. It's because the Landis Loonies Marathon is only a week away, on New Years Day. But even with this "need", I still couldn't handle the cold and wetness anymore.
What to do? Wimp out and finish the run on the mill, of course. After about 10 months without so much as stepping on a treadmill, I've now succumbed to the temptation a few times. The weather is my only excuse. I only hope this mill running doesn't lead to a relapse of my painful Achilles Tendonitis, which has been under control, but which I also believe may have been exacerbated by mill running. But so far, so good.
I did complete a long run - 6 outside and 16 inside. But the whole thing was sweet misery. With no sweetness.
It was a case in point. When I saw the cold rain, I ditched my running friends in order to stay closer to home. I thought I'd get it done with quicker and easier this way. Not so fast, said the weather and running gods. The cold rain (you know how I hate cold rain) soaked me to the bone. That's when I began to freeze up; cold and wet is just no good in my book.
The thing was that I had to get a long run in. Why did I "have" to, you ask? That's easy. It's because the Landis Loonies Marathon is only a week away, on New Years Day. But even with this "need", I still couldn't handle the cold and wetness anymore.
What to do? Wimp out and finish the run on the mill, of course. After about 10 months without so much as stepping on a treadmill, I've now succumbed to the temptation a few times. The weather is my only excuse. I only hope this mill running doesn't lead to a relapse of my painful Achilles Tendonitis, which has been under control, but which I also believe may have been exacerbated by mill running. But so far, so good.
I did complete a long run - 6 outside and 16 inside. But the whole thing was sweet misery. With no sweetness.
Sunday, November 26, 2017
Buckeye Woods 50K, November 26, 2017
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| At the start |
A couple other things about Fat Ass runs: they are friendly and easy-going; lack of support is typical (runners usually have to support themselves), and most importantly, there is usually no fee. In fact, the motto for all Fat Ass runs is, 'No Fees, No Awards, No Aid, No Wimps'.
That said, BW50K now has awards (Alyssa Osborne makes beach-glass necklaces for finishers), and there is even some limited support, this year by our Great Race Directors Harold Dravenstott and Michelle Wolff.
And the lack of fees? BW50K is one of the truly great benefits of membership in the Medina County Road Runners club; you do have to be a member in order to run, but it's otherwise completely free. What a bargain. The friendliness and easy-going-ness are a huge part of the bargain as well.
I absolutely love this race. So much so, that I've done each one since its inception in 2010. Maybe I'll even get good at it one of these years. But probably not.
Perhaps it wasn't really all that bad this time around. Maybe I'm being a little tough on myself. Many runners would be happy with my time and my overall place today. Conceivably, I could be very happy with today's run... Nah.
What exactly was my time and place today, you ask? Although I ran alone most of the day (no one seemed to run my pace - most were either faster or slower), it was still good to see everyone coming and going. And to come 'home' at the end of each 5-mile loop was wonderful.
Going in, I'd thought that I ought to be able to run faster than six hours, perhaps even five and a half. A sub-five hour run would be hitting it out of the park for me this day. But for a while, sub-five actually seemed like a possibility. But then the miles began to take their terrible toll, and my lap times began to slow little by little.
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| My laps. the first one includes an extra mile |
My overall time was 5:11:28. This was good for second place overall. If some fast guy (his name is Frank Dwyer) hadn't showed up, I may, just may, have placed better than second. I should mention that there were a lot of excellent runners out there today, but lots of them chose to call it quits at 25K.
Okay, it was great fun. Did I mention that I love this race?
Oh, just one more thing. Here's my BW50K history. The unlabeled column is my age. As I said, maybe I'll get good at it one of these years.
Thursday, November 16, 2017
Hail yes, it hurt. ...or... Hail. Yes, it hurt.
The well-known Post Office creed goes, "Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds".
The not so well-known Dan Horvath creed for this day goes, "Neither snow nor rain nor blustery wind nor sleet nor hail nor gloom of early morning stays this runner from the swift completion of his appointed round."
The hail hurt a bit, but luckily that part didn't last long. Oh, and the completion wasn't really all that swift either.
The not so well-known Dan Horvath creed for this day goes, "Neither snow nor rain nor blustery wind nor sleet nor hail nor gloom of early morning stays this runner from the swift completion of his appointed round."
The hail hurt a bit, but luckily that part didn't last long. Oh, and the completion wasn't really all that swift either.
Tuesday, November 07, 2017
Time, Distance, Estimation and Honesty
For someone who measures and estimates for a living, the Garmin Forerunner 620 has been both a blessing and a curse. On the blessing side, it's just so cool to look at the data, including the map, after a run, or even much later. And it's also great to never have to measure or estimate time and distance again. Ever.
On the curse side, one never has to measure or estimate time and distance. That is, there's no opportunity to fudge, over-estimate or otherwise smooth out the data.
Not that this runner would do such a thing on purpose. Before the Garmin, he would do the best he could at measuring accurate distances, and to be precise with the timing. Even so, there may, just may, have been occasions where the estimation wasn't entirely accurate. And guess which way?
What happens, you ask, when such a guy stops using his Garmin? What happens when the battery dies after three years, and the thing has to be returned to Garmin International for a $99 battery replacement? For one thing, he goes a little crazy.
But only a little. He researches various training logs, since he absolutely hates the Garmin one anyway. (He's trying Running Ahead right now, instead.) And he buys a $9.99 Aldi's best "sportwatch", that includes - get this - a chronometer. This will, hopefully, get him by until the return of the Garmin.
Now he's back to estimating time and/or distance for the interim. And trying hard not to be dishonest.
On the curse side, one never has to measure or estimate time and distance. That is, there's no opportunity to fudge, over-estimate or otherwise smooth out the data.
Not that this runner would do such a thing on purpose. Before the Garmin, he would do the best he could at measuring accurate distances, and to be precise with the timing. Even so, there may, just may, have been occasions where the estimation wasn't entirely accurate. And guess which way?
What happens, you ask, when such a guy stops using his Garmin? What happens when the battery dies after three years, and the thing has to be returned to Garmin International for a $99 battery replacement? For one thing, he goes a little crazy.
But only a little. He researches various training logs, since he absolutely hates the Garmin one anyway. (He's trying Running Ahead right now, instead.) And he buys a $9.99 Aldi's best "sportwatch", that includes - get this - a chronometer. This will, hopefully, get him by until the return of the Garmin.
Now he's back to estimating time and/or distance for the interim. And trying hard not to be dishonest.
Wednesday, October 18, 2017
It was dark in the park
It was dark in the park,
Goes the snark remark.
Today’s runner tried to be quick off the mark,
But with the dark so stark,
He’d been better off to disembark.
Sunday, October 15, 2017
Running in Iberia
Madrid
It’s
dark in the park. But only just parts of it. Time to move back to the
lighter sections. This experience here in Retiro Park is not at all
like the one I had in Casa de Campo park ten years ago. This park is
smaller, but it’s still large enough to get some miles in; I do a
few large loops of a couple miles for an overall total of eight. And
this park, unlike that other one with prostitutes in the trees
(you’ll have to reference my previous blog post), has almost no
other people in these early morning hours.
Here’s
another version of my usual answer to the question, “What do you
think about when you run?” The usual answer is, I think about
running. That’s partially the case today as well. But on this first
run in Iberia, there are all sorts of random thoughts bouncing around
between my ears. Thoughts such as, “where am I now?”, “was that
a voice?”, and, “what are we doing later today?” Mostly though,
I think about my running goals for these next three weeks here in
Iberia.
Having
completed most of my important races for the year (only Buckeye Woods
remains), I won’t at all mind taking the running easy for this
trip. Of course that’s what I’m doing now, but I also anticipate
doing so for most all of my upcoming runs here. I do, however, decide
to try to run at every location. That’s not to say every day, but
nearly so. It will be tough, since we are on the move so much. Most
locations are just for one night, although some are for two, and only
the Lisbon hotel will be more.
Sevilla
I
am concerned about getting lost in this jumble of medieval streets,
so I mostly stick to the main roads, and reference my printed Google
map often. I learn right away to avoid the bike lanes at all costs. I
try to get into some of the city parks, thinking they may be as
wonderfully runnable as Retiro was. They’re locked up tighter than
drums. I could probably try to sneak in, like I do at the Brunswick
Track... but I don’t.
Second
choice is the river. I have often found several paths along rivers in
Europe, and this one, the Guadalquiver, does not disappoint.
Things
are fine except that several sections are covered by cobblestones. No
doubt these were placed here by the ancient Romans, or possibly later
peoples such as Visigoths or Moors. No matter, they’re not designed
for Danny Boy and his Brooks Ghost Nines. This causes me to slow down
even more than before, if that’s at all possible. This increased
slowness, in turn, causes me to turn back. We wouldn’t want Debbie
to worry.
Granada
This
Is turning out to be a really nice run. Once again, I have navigated
to, and run along a river. Once again, it’s proven a good choice,
after all the fear and loathing I had been doing about getting lost.
So much so, that I’m carrying two maps along with my room key.
These particular cheap-o shorts, throw-aways that I will wind up
trying to keep after all, have no pockets. I also have a headlamp
that I need to be able to read the maps.
My
fear had at least some basis: we’d walked the jumble of narrow,
twisted streets of Granada yesterday, and it seemed impossible not to
get lost.
The
dirt paths along the river are lovely, even though it’s still dark.
Along with my headlamp, there is some lighting to help with the
footing and navigation. Thus regarding my quest to run at every
location possible during this journey, all is good. But here is what
I should have feared and loathed about: slow-disease. I am only
barely moving faster than a brisk walk. In fact, this is working out
to be my slowest, and therefore shortest runs yet. One of these days
I’ll need to get serious about this running stuff. But today is not
that day.
Valencia
This
one is shaping up to be my best run so far, in just about every
aspect. Valencia re-routed its river away from the city to eliminate
the risk of flooding, and they re-purposed the riverbed area as a
long city park. So once more, I’m running along a river, although
this time it’s a river sans water.
The
width of the park varies, but it’s probably never more than a
half-mile wide. But it sure is long. And long is just what the doctor
ordered. Getting started around 4:30, not having to worry about
getting lost, traffic, bad footing, darkness (it’s well-lit), etc.,
all add up to a goal of at least ten miles for the day.
Having
decided to run out on one side of the riverbed and back on the other,
I had hit the turnaround, where I think the park finally ended, at a
little over five miles. This was perfect. Now after going out on the
eastern edge, I had been trying to return on the western side. But I
get re-routed just a little and wind up on some of the middle paths.
Here I find a dirt trail that suits me.
The
lighting is a bit different - small up-lights vs the overheard ones
that illuminate the other trails. I am starting to see other runners
now that it’s nearing the 6:00 am hour. I notice a 2 km marking,
and then others every 100 meters. It’s a trail marked specifically
for runners, and I follow it all the way to the 5 km finish. This is
extremely cool!
I’m
not done yet, however. I have a couple more miles before I get back
to my hotel. I finally pick up the pace a little, making this not
only my farthest and most enjoyable, but also my fastest run. Ten
miles. You can’t go farther than that.
Barcelona
The
streets are filled with people. Not what you would expect at 6:00 am
on a Saturday. But then, this is Spain. The problem of the day is not
the people and the busy city streets. It’s that there’s no
destination. For each of my other runs so far, I’ve managed to find
a river or a park where I could run in peace. Such is not the case
today.
But
I knew that. I’d had low expectations going in, and I’m now
reaping what I’d sewed. I go up to, and then out and back on
Avinguda Diagonal, the main drag through town. I don’t feel
threatened by all the young people, although a couple do remark on my
presence (I think it was of a positive nature).
This
winds up as just two easy miles today. It will also wrap up my
running in Spain. On to Portugal!
Lisbon
1)
I hate running here. Don’t get me wrong. I love Portugal in
general, and Lisbon in particular, in lots of ways. But running isn’t
one of them. It’s all cobblestones; they’re impossible to avoid.
And now I’m hopelessly lost.
It
shouldn’t have been that difficult; I only wanted to head over from
the Marriott into the main downtown area. It’s a couple miles, and
I have walked it in my previous visits to this place. But today is
not a great running day. Besides being lost and afraid of tripping, I
now have a cold as well. Probably caught it from a fellow traveler.
Somehow I find my way back this first day.
2)
I love running here. I had headed out the other direction – north
instead of south - and the memories came back. This is where I used
to run most of my miles whilst working here. There are universities
and hospitals around here, and there’s a running trail through a
university athletic area and park. It’s about ¾ mile – I do one
circuit before heading back, but I will return!
3)
I love running here. I know I said this yesterday, but I mean it even
more-so this time. I am running in the same park, and I am
re-discovering other routes around and through the place. There are
more soft dirt trails, and plenty of variety. There is some lighting,
but even so, it’s a good thing I have my headlamp. I figure that
it’s about a 1.7 mile circuit at the most. After a few of those, I
start around a smaller circular course more in the interior. A little
under a half-mile in length, it goes around a stadium, and it’s on
roads. It’s just beginning to get light out, and other runners are
beginning to do this shorter route (they are starting to run the dirt
trails as well). Some of these other runners are pretty darn fast. I
pick it up here as well. It’s good to finish this ten-miler feeling
strong.
4) I kinda like running here. Since I am now staying at a different
Lisbon hotel, I’m in a different park: scenic, even in the dark,
Parque Eduardo VII. It’s actually fine, except for the
cobblestones. Did I mention that there are 17 billion cobblestones in
Lisbon? And that I’ve stepped on nearly 28.3% of them? And that I
haven’t tripped yet? And if that don’t jinx me, nothing will. The
biggest problem with today’s run, however, isn’t the
cobblestones. It’s me. I’m just too darn tired to run more than
four miles. And of course I am, once again, out of time.
I
had apparently missed the Madrid Marathon whilst we were there doing
other things. Now in Lisbon, we actually witnessed a 10K run that was
going on in the Belem area while were touring that area. I sure would
have liked to participate in these events, mostly for the opportunity
to experience something unique.
The
Algarve
It
occurs to me that if something would go very wrong during this run,
I’d have a great deal of trouble describing where I am staying. I
don’t even know the name of the town that I started in (I later
finally get it into my head – it’s Armacao de Pera). The other
bad thing that could happen, as I run down this dark, narrow road, is
for some Brit who’s only half awake such that he’s driving on the
left, to hit me from behind. This area is where a whole lot of Brits
and Europeans go on beach holidays, and the beaches are quite lovely
here.
Luckily,
neither bad thing does indeed occur. I find an even more narrow road
to run down, and end up making a loop around a camping area. I also
run on the beach a little. Once again, I wind up enjoying this run a
whole lot.
I
would like to do more. Too bad I run out of time. Again.
 |
| Running on the beach in the Algarve |
Evora
The
cathedral again? How can I possibly be this completely lost in such a
relatively small and compact walled city? Why o why can’t I find
the main square, from which I would be able to easily navigate back
to the hotel?
Yes,
I must admit it. I’m as lost as lost can be. I had started, key,
map and flashlight in hand, with honest intentions: the thought of
getting outside the walled city and its complicated cobblestone
roads, and back, as fast as possible. By now you know this hasn’t
worked out so well. There were cobblestones outside the city walls as
well as inside. Worse, it wasn’t entirely clear in my muddled brain
what was inside versus outside said walls. In fact, I wasn’t sure
at all whether I was inside or outside the walled city. I had
wandered a lot, and eventually found myself back inside said walls.
That
part was okay. By then, I’d gotten a couple miles in, and it was
time to head back anyway. Too bad the fun was only just beginning.
Now I keep finding myself back at this darned cathedral, from which I
keep trying different roads to take me away. At one point, I travel
all the way back outside the city, thinking once again that I can
then navigate all the way around on the outside. No luck there
either.
I
had asked a couple people – it was now getting later in the
morning, so they were beginning to wake up – for help, but as much
as they tried, the communication barriers were too great. The map
only made things worse.
What’s
the danger, you ask? I check my watch. It’s 6:52. Debbie is by now
becoming extremely anxious, sitting in the room awaiting my return.
I’d said 6:30, and it will soon (at 7:00) be time to get our bags
out and go to breakfast. The worst case scenario would be that of
missing the 8:00am bus, and thus being stuck in Evora forever.
I
run down for one more loop around and through and back. Back to the
cathedral. Back with still no sign at all of the main square, with
it’s way to Hotel Mar de Ar. I stop to ask an elderly couple for
some directions. I hesitate, because none of the others had been able
to help at all. There is more communication and miscommunication,
but they wind up actually walking with me up and down the streets, to
the main square.
Eventually
we do arrive at the square. I can’t figure out how it was that I
couldn’t find it before. I thank the couple profusely with
multiple obigados, and then run the rest of the way down to the Mar
de Ar. I get back around 7:15, and Debbie had indeed been worried,
but she also had everything packed up and ready for us to go. I had
been out since around 5:45, but only got around five miles in.
 |
| Extremely Lost in Evora |
Viseu
You
won’t believe this, but I’ll tell you anyway. I’m lost. Again.
This time, I’m in the early morning darkness, running on
cobblestones in a medieval, walled city with narrow, winding streets.
I know. This sounds much like yesterday’s debacle. But it’s
today’s as well.
I
hadn’t planned on going very far today. Of course, I hadn’t
planned on it yesterday, either. This time, things do work out a bit
differently, however. I emerge from some narrow, winding, cobblestone
street, only to find…….. my hotel!! Of all things. And right
where I left it.
Porto
I
am not lost. I may indeed have a problem getting back to the hotel,
but I’m not lost. Not one bit. I know exactly where I am. Exactly.
And
furthermore, I know where I started. So, let’s summarize. I know
where I am now. I know where I started. I just don’t have the
slightest idea how it transpired that I arrived from there to here,
or how to get back. Here, by the way, is under the famous Eiffel
bridge here in Porto. And this is precisely where I did want to run
today, since it’s by the river (alert readers will note that I like
rivers for their navigational assistance), and also has fewer
cobblestones.
And
then a miracle occurs. I manage to retrace my steps, and arrive back
at the hotel without further mishap. It’s amazing.
 |
| The bridge in Porto |
Figueira
da Foz
I am not lost, but I have no inkling what city I'm in. You can read it just above this sentence because I am able to look it up when I return. The reason I'm not lost is that we've finally gotten to a place that's easy to navigate. Keep the Atlantic Ocean on my right-hand side going out, and on my left when I return. I can handle this.
And yet, with the heavy fog (I could only see a couple feet in front of me), I do somehow manage to get away from the ocean. I didn't think I turned, and the bike and walking paths had appeared to go straight. I know I've gotten away because I'm suddenly running under a huge and high bridge that's perpendicular with my path. Assuming that it's not taking drivers all the way across the ocean, I must have trailed off. Will I find my way back this time?
I do. It's a pretty good run. And it's a good final one for the trip.
I did manage to run at every location. Each one was extremely slow, but at least memorable.
For more on this trip, see also my travel blog.
I am not lost, but I have no inkling what city I'm in. You can read it just above this sentence because I am able to look it up when I return. The reason I'm not lost is that we've finally gotten to a place that's easy to navigate. Keep the Atlantic Ocean on my right-hand side going out, and on my left when I return. I can handle this.
And yet, with the heavy fog (I could only see a couple feet in front of me), I do somehow manage to get away from the ocean. I didn't think I turned, and the bike and walking paths had appeared to go straight. I know I've gotten away because I'm suddenly running under a huge and high bridge that's perpendicular with my path. Assuming that it's not taking drivers all the way across the ocean, I must have trailed off. Will I find my way back this time?
I do. It's a pretty good run. And it's a good final one for the trip.
I did manage to run at every location. Each one was extremely slow, but at least memorable.
For more on this trip, see also my travel blog.
Tuesday, September 19, 2017
Today's Tale: Torturous Track Tempo Training Trot
People often ask what we runners think about as we're running all those miles. We think about blog post titles such as this one. And when they find out, they're sorry they asked. It would have been nice to be able to include the word, tremendous in there. Nice, but not quite appropriate. Torturous, unfortunately, is the more apt descriptive adjective.
It's been tough to keep motivated now that Erie is over. Other than late November's Buckeye Woods 50K, there's nothing else on the horizon at the moment. Without some Big Race on the calendar, and perhaps with some still ongoing post-race mental and physical damage, I just don't feel like running so much or so fast these days.
Today would be different. It would be a Something of Substance Tuesday Track Trot. I show up at 5:15, and run a few easy miles with co-worker Colleen DeVito, who's getting ready for her first half-marathon in a while. Then I pick it up to begin the speedwork.
What particular speedwork am I doing, you ask? Darned if I know; I make this stuff up as I go along. That's especially true when there's no race looming in the near future.
I am nearing a mile at this tremendous 7:30-ish pace when I consider whether to slow down at the completion of said mile. In other words, should I do mile intervals, or a tempo run. (I am already committed to something longer than 800s or 1200s, by the way.)
The mile goes by, and I keep going. This does indeed become a 3-mile tempo run, and by the time I hit overall mile six, I'm ready for a quick pit stop. Can I do a few more miles at this pace?
Besides something of substance, I'd wanted to get to a total of ten, or possibly eleven miles today. This usually isn't a problem for these mid-week speed sessions. It is today. After a couple additional fast, but not quite as fast miles, I ease up for a cooldown mile. The watch indicates nine miles. What? I thought it was ten for sure. Is there some mistake?
Nope. Nine is correct; the only mistake is my brain. I struggle mightily, but manage another mile.
I am still (still!) waiting for this to become easy.
It's been tough to keep motivated now that Erie is over. Other than late November's Buckeye Woods 50K, there's nothing else on the horizon at the moment. Without some Big Race on the calendar, and perhaps with some still ongoing post-race mental and physical damage, I just don't feel like running so much or so fast these days.
Today would be different. It would be a Something of Substance Tuesday Track Trot. I show up at 5:15, and run a few easy miles with co-worker Colleen DeVito, who's getting ready for her first half-marathon in a while. Then I pick it up to begin the speedwork.
What particular speedwork am I doing, you ask? Darned if I know; I make this stuff up as I go along. That's especially true when there's no race looming in the near future.
I am nearing a mile at this tremendous 7:30-ish pace when I consider whether to slow down at the completion of said mile. In other words, should I do mile intervals, or a tempo run. (I am already committed to something longer than 800s or 1200s, by the way.)
The mile goes by, and I keep going. This does indeed become a 3-mile tempo run, and by the time I hit overall mile six, I'm ready for a quick pit stop. Can I do a few more miles at this pace?
Besides something of substance, I'd wanted to get to a total of ten, or possibly eleven miles today. This usually isn't a problem for these mid-week speed sessions. It is today. After a couple additional fast, but not quite as fast miles, I ease up for a cooldown mile. The watch indicates nine miles. What? I thought it was ten for sure. Is there some mistake?
Nope. Nine is correct; the only mistake is my brain. I struggle mightily, but manage another mile.
I am still (still!) waiting for this to become easy.
Monday, September 18, 2017
There once was this ancient runner
There once was this ancient runner from Brunswick
Who thought: to be the best that ever lived would be mighty slick
He runs as fast and as far as he possibly could
No doubt way more than he should
Guess that makes him pretty much a lunatic
Who thought: to be the best that ever lived would be mighty slick
He runs as fast and as far as he possibly could
No doubt way more than he should
Guess that makes him pretty much a lunatic
Sunday, September 10, 2017
Erie Marathon Race Report, by Danny Boy
Short Version: I ran well for a while. But then... (Sorry, there's a technical glitch here. Please refer to the Long Version.)
Long Version: Danny Boy wonders where the heck he's at when the 3:00 AM alarm goes off. He somehow manages to get up, out the door and on the road to Erie before four. It takes two hours, and he has to go pretty bad when he gets to the Waldameer Park parking area. Could it possibly have something to do with all the coffee, beet root juice and water he's been gulping during the drive?
Presque Isle is not an island, but a protrusion of land that thrusts into Lake Erie. Such penetration makes for a stunning recreational venue. Okay, okay. Danny Boy will stop. The location is indeed beautiful, but now it's back to the race report.
This race had been on Danny Boy's 'A' list. We don't know why. We don't even know why he does these marathon thingies, for that matter. But with a motto like, 'flat, fast and fun', coupled (there we go again) with absolutely perfect weather, there ought not be any excuses not to run, or not to try to run well. At the very least, he certainly should do better than the 3:56 he did this past spring in Cleveland. On top of everything else, our runner ran some half marathons to get ready, and even (yes, really) tapered and carbo-loaded.
He starts out much too fast. He can't understand why everyone else, some of whom don't appear to be fast runners, seems to be sprinting. Of course he foolishly tries to keep up. After about six miles, he finally settles down to a more manageable pace. As he comes close to completing the first of the two 13-mile loops around the peninsula, his pace falters a little as he slows a bit more.
The half-way point brings memories of his only marathon DNF (Did Not Finish). In 2003 or so, he'd made the trip up here with wife Debbie and some friends. On a horrifically hot and humid day, Debbie said as he ran by, "We're going to breakfast, why don't you come too?" Without thinking at all, Danny Boy stepped off the course and went to Bob Evans. He could have completed the second 13 that day, although he'd have suffered mightily. Danny Boy ran Erie once before and once after that incident. Those other races were super hot ones as well.
Not today. It is 48F at the start, and of course things warm up as the sun rises, but it still never gets a whole lot north of 60. Furthermore, the air was dry and crisp, and there is only a slight breeze. It's as good as it gets.
Hitting half-way with a time of 1:50 is a little scary. That's only a couple minutes faster than his two recent half-marathons. If he could duplicate the time for the second half, he'd have an extremely respectable 3:40 marathon. But can he do it?
He takes some gels, and they seem to help. He runs the next several miles nearly as fast as he ran them the first time around. He's still feeling strong at Mile 20, and the time is around 2:49. 3:40 is still possible, no?
No. The pace begins to slip. Not a lot, but enough. Perhaps those fast early miles did indeed take their toll. Now that silly 3:40 goal is truly out of reach. It's funny how it had became a goal at all. Going in, he had only thought about beating his 3:56. Faster than 3:55 would be a Boston Qualifier. Now he easily had the BQ, but wanted more.
Finish time is 3:43. It's Danny Boy's best in four years, and second best in six years. But then, he retired from marathons a few years ago, didn't he?
The word is out on Erie. The race organization is second to none; it's all about the runners. And it's nice that it's only a marathon; there are no other events. Being so flat and with timing to allow for Boston Qualification, the race has grown a lot over the years. There were well over 1,500 participants from all over.
One more thing. The results show that Danny Boy was eighth in his ancient age group. That means that seven (yes, seven) old-timers actually ran faster. Surely the large field and the perfect day mattered. It sure did to D.B.
Long Version: Danny Boy wonders where the heck he's at when the 3:00 AM alarm goes off. He somehow manages to get up, out the door and on the road to Erie before four. It takes two hours, and he has to go pretty bad when he gets to the Waldameer Park parking area. Could it possibly have something to do with all the coffee, beet root juice and water he's been gulping during the drive?
Presque Isle is not an island, but a protrusion of land that thrusts into Lake Erie. Such penetration makes for a stunning recreational venue. Okay, okay. Danny Boy will stop. The location is indeed beautiful, but now it's back to the race report.
This race had been on Danny Boy's 'A' list. We don't know why. We don't even know why he does these marathon thingies, for that matter. But with a motto like, 'flat, fast and fun', coupled (there we go again) with absolutely perfect weather, there ought not be any excuses not to run, or not to try to run well. At the very least, he certainly should do better than the 3:56 he did this past spring in Cleveland. On top of everything else, our runner ran some half marathons to get ready, and even (yes, really) tapered and carbo-loaded.
He starts out much too fast. He can't understand why everyone else, some of whom don't appear to be fast runners, seems to be sprinting. Of course he foolishly tries to keep up. After about six miles, he finally settles down to a more manageable pace. As he comes close to completing the first of the two 13-mile loops around the peninsula, his pace falters a little as he slows a bit more.
The half-way point brings memories of his only marathon DNF (Did Not Finish). In 2003 or so, he'd made the trip up here with wife Debbie and some friends. On a horrifically hot and humid day, Debbie said as he ran by, "We're going to breakfast, why don't you come too?" Without thinking at all, Danny Boy stepped off the course and went to Bob Evans. He could have completed the second 13 that day, although he'd have suffered mightily. Danny Boy ran Erie once before and once after that incident. Those other races were super hot ones as well.
Not today. It is 48F at the start, and of course things warm up as the sun rises, but it still never gets a whole lot north of 60. Furthermore, the air was dry and crisp, and there is only a slight breeze. It's as good as it gets.
Hitting half-way with a time of 1:50 is a little scary. That's only a couple minutes faster than his two recent half-marathons. If he could duplicate the time for the second half, he'd have an extremely respectable 3:40 marathon. But can he do it?
He takes some gels, and they seem to help. He runs the next several miles nearly as fast as he ran them the first time around. He's still feeling strong at Mile 20, and the time is around 2:49. 3:40 is still possible, no?
No. The pace begins to slip. Not a lot, but enough. Perhaps those fast early miles did indeed take their toll. Now that silly 3:40 goal is truly out of reach. It's funny how it had became a goal at all. Going in, he had only thought about beating his 3:56. Faster than 3:55 would be a Boston Qualifier. Now he easily had the BQ, but wanted more.
Finish time is 3:43. It's Danny Boy's best in four years, and second best in six years. But then, he retired from marathons a few years ago, didn't he?
The word is out on Erie. The race organization is second to none; it's all about the runners. And it's nice that it's only a marathon; there are no other events. Being so flat and with timing to allow for Boston Qualification, the race has grown a lot over the years. There were well over 1,500 participants from all over.
One more thing. The results show that Danny Boy was eighth in his ancient age group. That means that seven (yes, seven) old-timers actually ran faster. Surely the large field and the perfect day mattered. It sure did to D.B.
Saturday, September 02, 2017
Because He Couldn't
Why did he make it so darn hard on himself, having to sprint so hard, from so far behind? Why didn't he just stay with the leaders from the start, and then simply outlast them?
The 1972 Olympic 800-Meter race is still considered by many to be one of the greatest come from behind victories of all time. An Ohio boy, Dave Wottle of Canton and Bowling Green State University, was in seemingly out of the realm of possible winners, trailing far behind in last place with 400 meters, and even 200 meters to go. Then Wottle began to pass his competitors, one by one. Even so, he still had an incredible amount of real estate to make up as he entered the final straightaway in a distant fourth place. His final kick over the last few meters is the stuff of legend. His last victim, the favored Soviet runner Evgeny Arzhanov, dove at the finish line, but Wottle stayed upright, and passed him for the gold-medal win. It's all here in this famous video.
Why didn't he just stay with the leaders from the start? Because he couldn't.
Dave Wottle considered himself a 1500 meter runner. He stated that he was only running the 800 to prepare for the 1500, and that he didn't have anywhere near the 400 meter speed of his competitors. He actually ran even splits in the Final, whereas all the others slowed during the second lap.
I think about this race often, especially when I see runners off to a fast start in a race of any distance. Many times, I am unable to stay with those whom I think I ought to be able to beat. Stay with it, I tell myself. Run your own race. They will either come back, or they won't; all you can do is run the best you can, with the knowledge that a steady, even pace most often yields the best results. Be like Dave Wottle, I say.
The Olympic Games were held in Munich, Germany in September, 1972. Forty-five years ago, I watched them, and this race, live. I was as stunned as everyone else. These 1972 Games were also famous for the Israeli Hostage situation, and for Frank Shorter's Marathon win. I recently re-published an article I wrote about the fortieth anniversary that race five years ago. For more information about Wottle, what he's up to now, and his famous painters cap, this article in the Toledo Blade, tells it well.
It's okay to start fast, if you're wired that way. But turtles, take heart. If you run slow and steady, sometimes it works.
The 1972 Olympic 800-Meter race is still considered by many to be one of the greatest come from behind victories of all time. An Ohio boy, Dave Wottle of Canton and Bowling Green State University, was in seemingly out of the realm of possible winners, trailing far behind in last place with 400 meters, and even 200 meters to go. Then Wottle began to pass his competitors, one by one. Even so, he still had an incredible amount of real estate to make up as he entered the final straightaway in a distant fourth place. His final kick over the last few meters is the stuff of legend. His last victim, the favored Soviet runner Evgeny Arzhanov, dove at the finish line, but Wottle stayed upright, and passed him for the gold-medal win. It's all here in this famous video.
Why didn't he just stay with the leaders from the start? Because he couldn't.
Dave Wottle considered himself a 1500 meter runner. He stated that he was only running the 800 to prepare for the 1500, and that he didn't have anywhere near the 400 meter speed of his competitors. He actually ran even splits in the Final, whereas all the others slowed during the second lap.
I think about this race often, especially when I see runners off to a fast start in a race of any distance. Many times, I am unable to stay with those whom I think I ought to be able to beat. Stay with it, I tell myself. Run your own race. They will either come back, or they won't; all you can do is run the best you can, with the knowledge that a steady, even pace most often yields the best results. Be like Dave Wottle, I say.
The Olympic Games were held in Munich, Germany in September, 1972. Forty-five years ago, I watched them, and this race, live. I was as stunned as everyone else. These 1972 Games were also famous for the Israeli Hostage situation, and for Frank Shorter's Marathon win. I recently re-published an article I wrote about the fortieth anniversary that race five years ago. For more information about Wottle, what he's up to now, and his famous painters cap, this article in the Toledo Blade, tells it well.
It's okay to start fast, if you're wired that way. But turtles, take heart. If you run slow and steady, sometimes it works.
The Tale of the Pied Piper
Frank Shorter won a marathon in Munich and led us all astray... This article appeared in the September/October 2012 issue of Marathon & Beyond. I am unable to find the entire text online, and Marathon & Beyond has ceased publication, although back issues are still available. Now it has been even more than 40 years, but I still like the article. Here it is again.
A sudden thought occurred to me during a recent sleepless night: it has been 40 years since Frank Shorter’s Olympic marathon win at the 1972 Olympic Games. I reflected on the moment. Those Games were as memorable as any. They included Mark Spitz, Lasse Viren, Steve Prefontaine, Olga Korbut, Dave Wottle, the USA men’s basketball team’s loss to the Soviet Union, and also the Munich massacre—the killing of the Israeli athletes. But for many road runners old enough to have seen it, our most vivid, most enduring memory was that of Shorter’s win.
It wasn’t just the fact that no American had won the event since 1908. Here before our eyes, on live television, this seemingly average American man was able to train hard enough to win against the world’s best. For me, the image of Shorter entering the Olympic Stadium ahead of everyone else (except an impostor) will forever be etched in my memory.
Of course, I understand that Shorter is anything but average, but that was the thought at the time. And that’s a large part of the reason that his win marked the start of the running movement. It certainly got me going.
A watershed moment if there ever was one, Shorter’s gold medal sparked running as we know it today. Before the 1972 Olympics, only a few odd, skinny people ran. There were only a handful of marathons and other road races available around the country. After the 1972 Olympics, truly average people began to believe that if they just went out and trained, great things could happen.
Great things did happen. With all the new runners hitting the roads, several big cities inaugurated marathons and other road races to accommodate them. The growth of road racing began to accelerate further; with more road racing in the spotlight, even more people began to run.
And the trend continues to this day, although not without some setbacks and lulls. But now the growth is accelerating to levels unfathomable in 1972.
It started with an American guy entering the Olympic Stadium and crossing the finish line 40 years ago.
Before Munich
Yes, there was running before the 1972 Munich Olympics. Track and field enjoyed perhaps a little more notoriety than it does today. US sprinters led the world, as they do now. Among distance runners, Marty Liquori, Jim Ryun, Billy Mills, and most recently Steve Prefontaine had all become well known in the previous decade.
US high schools and colleges fielded track and cross-country teams, as they do now. Football and basketball programs grabbed more attention, as they still do today, but some young athletes dedicated themselves to running.
Two factors limited the future for runners after their college days were completed. First, it was virtually impossible to make a living by running. With amateurism as the rule for the Olympics as well as for most other events, sponsorship opportunities were almost unknown. Professional runners were nearly nonexistent.
The second limiting factor was that there were only a handful of opportunities to compete in road races. The Boston Marathon had a proud tradition, and there were some other marathons and road races of other distances. But these events were so few, and so small, that most runners didn’t bother with them. In fact, most people weren’t aware of road races at all. Most didn’t know what a marathon was. Road running, for most practical purposes, did not exist yet.
Five years before the 1972 Olympic Games, Kathrine Switzer had her famous encounter with Jock Semple at the Boston Marathon. At the time, the Boston Athletic Association had articulated no policy regarding women runners. Switzer entered the race as “K. V. Switzer.” Partway through the run, B.A.A. race organizer Semple attempted to physically force her out of the race. A boyfriend intervened, and Switzer famously completed the marathon. Photos of the incident demonstrated a truth not generally believed before: women can run long distances. Who knew?
Katherine Switzer’s original Boston Marathon run in 1967 directly resulted in women being (finally) allowed to officially enter the race in 1972. This simple activity would never be the same, especially for women. It’s notable that the 1972 Olympic Games featured only limited opportunities for female distance runners to compete. The longest event for them that year was 1,500 meters. A couple of more Olympic Games would go by before women would be allowed to compete in longer events.
The 1972 Olympic Games
The Games of the XX Olympiad were much anticipated. They were held in Munich, Federal Republic of Germany (West Germany), from August 26 to September 11, 1972. The only other time the Olympic Games were held in Germany was in 1936 in Berlin. Those had come just prior to World War II, and the war was still fresh in the memories of many in 1972. The government of West Germany was intent on showing the country in a positive light.
Cold War tension was nearly at a peak. An undercurrent of the Games would be the competition between East and West. Athletes from the Soviet Union and East Germany were often the ones to beat, from the American perspective.
In the United States, television coverage would be greatly enhanced from that of previous Olympics. The expanded coverage had Americans interested and engaged as never before.
On September 5, with six days remaining, an event occurred that would shock the world and change the Games forever. A group of Palestinian terrorists known as Black September broke into the Olympic Village and proceeded to hold 11 Israeli athletes, officials, and coaches hostage. Two of the Israelis were killed early in the ordeal when they tried to overpower their captors. Later, as the terrorists and their hostages were being transferred to an airport, West German authorities attempted a rescue mission. The result was that all of the hostages and several of the terrorists were killed.
The Munich massacre, as it is now called, understandably left the Games in disarray. Olympic events were initially suspended, and then, after 24 hours and a memorial ceremony at Olympic Stadium, they were allowed to continue.
Even after the resumption of the Olympic events, American athletes, as well as many of the others, still wondered whether they ought to compete. Besides the obvious security concerns, the massacre gave them reason to think about whether it would be respectful to participate. But Olympic officials and American coaches determined that the Games must go on. The athletes ultimately agreed, and the Games did continue.
Before and after the massacre, there were many outstanding and memorable athletic events and achievements. Olga Korbut, a young, diminutive, and gifted Soviet gymnast, captured the hearts of everyone watching from around the world. American swimmer Mark Spitz won an unprecedented seven gold medals. The US men’s basketball team lost to the Soviet Union in a controversial game for the gold medal.
Track and field events were just beginning when the massacre occurred. They resumed with even more memorable feats. Popular American runner Steve Prefontaine famously took the lead in the 5,000-meter final before being passed near the finish and coming in fourth. The winner, Lasse Viren of Finland, also won gold at the 10,000, in spite of falling early in that race. In one of the most thrilling 800-meter races ever, American Dave Wottle, who had been running dead last, passed the entire field, including the last runner, a Russian, in the final 200 meters.
In the sprints, American and Soviet runners continued the close competition, with the Soviets winning more than their usual share. East German women appeared to be winning an awful lot as well.
The 1972 Olympic Marathon
Frank Shorter was born in Munich in 1947. His father, a US Army officer, had been stationed there. He grew up in Middletown, New York, graduated from Yale University, and was then busy as a law student at the University of Florida. Running the Olympic Marathon in the city of his birth was a dream come true.
Shorter had been successful on the track, winning NCAA and national 10,000-meter titles. He had only recently tried the marathon. But he had already achieved success there as well, winning the event at the Pan American Games in 1971 and tying with Kenny Moore at the US Olympic Marathon trials. What was he thinking leading up to the race? Shorter later recalled, “You can’t be afraid of anything; you can’t let the pressure get to you. After the Israeli massacre at the 1972 Olympics, if the terrorists were going to strike again, the logical event was the marathon. I had to choose to just shut that out of my mind.” And in an NPR commentary, he also stated, “We felt the Israeli athletes would have wanted this. I had a vague feeling that if as a team, we did not try to win our remaining events, the terrorists would somehow win instead . . . I ran the 1972 Olympics Marathon and never once, once, thought about terrorism. I did it that way because I simply had to. We arrived in Munich as innocent athletes and left as the first Olympic athletes to realize competing carries a risk of harm.”
It was the last day of the Games of the XX Olympiad. The marathon start was inside Olympic Stadium, and soon the runners were out on the streets of Munich. Television coverage of the event was better than for past Olympic marathons; there were cameras in the stadium to capture the start and finish, some mobile cameras, and others mounted at various locations to provide a view of the runners as they went by.
Shorter moved into the lead by about the 15-kilometer mark. He was now clearly the best runner in the field, and the cameras displayed his efficient, erect running style as he ran alone through the city of his birth. Continuing on, he maintained his lead and was not challenged for the remainder of the race.
As Shorter was approaching the finish, an impostor ran into the stadium ahead of him. Television announcers Jim McKay and Erich Segal anxiously began screaming and shouting. Segal famously yelled to Shorter (who couldn’t have heard), “It’s a fraud, Frank!”
Initially confused, and with the original roaring ovation that should have been his stolen, Shorter soon understood that he was the true winner. He crossed the line in an outstanding time of 2 hours, 12 minutes, 19 seconds. His American teammates and friends Kenny Moore and Jack Bacheler finished fourth and ninth, respectively. It was the best Olympic Marathon placing by American runners ever.
Shorter appeared to barely grasp what he had accomplished. The Olympic gold medal would be his.
But he couldn’t have been aware that a running boom would burgeon following his achievement.
I was 19 at the time. Although I had only dabbled a little in track during high school, I had been watching these Olympic Games with great interest. The marathon itself, and especially Shorter’s triumph, was already a great inspiration. I distinctly remember my brother-in-law saying to me (paraphrasing), “Here is this guy, an average American, who simply worked hard and was able to outrun the best runners in the world.” It seemed like anyone could do (nearly) the same, or at least accomplish great things, just by working at it. And running appeared to be the way for many of us.
The first running boom
You might say that baby boomers like me were ripe for something. We had just been through the 1960s, and for some of us, that came along with the related sex, drugs, and rock ’n’ roll. The Cold War was still raging, but the Vietnam War was finally winding down. Many of us were living just before, during, or right after our college years. At some point, we would have to (gulp) get a real job and make a living. Would there be more to life than work and family? And what was up with this physical fitness stuff, anyway?
I can’t remember whether I went out for a jog within the next few days after the Olympics. But within a year or two, I was definitely running, and I was doing it fairly regularly. A few of my friends were starting as well. It just seemed like the thing to do. The running boom had begun.
The New York City Marathon had been inaugurated in 1970, but the early editions consisted of loops around Central Park. In 1976, Fred Lebow redrew the course so as to run through all five boroughs, similar to the way it is today. Boston notwithstanding, the modern urban marathon was born. Road races, including marathons, so few in number before 1972, were now popping up all over the place. Within a couple of years, nearly every big city had to have its own marathon. New road races of various lengths also began to appear on the calendar. Some of the road runners even began making money.
The Complete Book of Running was published in 1977. Written by James Fixx, the work clearly described the benefits and the personal fulfillment that came from running. It became a bestseller. The book further inspired many to get out and run. And for those of us who had already started, it was further reason to keep going.
Nike, Inc. began making running shoes for the masses. A few other companies did the same. The availability of quality kicks for the rest of us was certainly an enabler to the running boom that was beginning to take place.
Like New York, the Cleveland area had seen some marathons in previous years, but the first one to catch on was the Revco Cleveland Marathon, inaugurated in 1978. A few hundred of my closest friends and I were there. I had trained hard and ran a pretty decent first marathon time, despite almost crawling near the finish. I remember saying to my wife afterward, “Never again!” But I didn’t stick to that promise.
We did not lack for inspiration. Naturally, Frank Shorter’s Olympic win was tops for single events, but Shorter himself continued to motivate, and so did several others. Shorter won other marathons and then went on to win the silver medal at the 1976 Olympic Games in Montreal, Canada. The man who beat him, Waldemar Cierpinski of East Germany, has since been linked to his country’s illegal drug program. This is ironic because by about the time this link was being verified, Shorter had become the first chairman of the new United States Anti-Doping Agency.
Bill Rodgers began to excel at road races and achieved instant fame when he won the Boston Marathon in 1975. Although Americans had won the race in the past, Boston Billy’s easy style and grace, contrasted with Shorter’s seemingly more disciplined style, made him another veritable hero to many. Rodgers went on to win Boston three more times, and he also notched a notable four victories at New York.
Steve Prefontaine evidently learned something from his experience at Munich. Although experiencing some ups and downs, he was becoming a better, more complete runner. And he was becoming more of a folk hero than before. Prefontaine had begun training seriously for the Montreal Games when he was tragically killed in an automobile accident. His friend Frank Shorter was the last to see him alive.
Where has it taken us?
In 1984, during the Games of the XXIII Olympiad in Los Angeles, Joan Benoit became the first woman to win an Olympic gold medal in the marathon. Every bit as compelling as Shorter’s win, this event further inspired many.
After Kathrine Switzer’s Boston Marathon incident and Shorter’s victory, women also began to participate in running and racing, but not in great numbers. Now, with Benoit, they had something the men had: a champion. Yet for some reason, there was a bit of a lull in the running boom during the late 1980s. People were still running, but the growth leveled off.
Things appeared to accelerate once again in the middle to late 1990s. It seemed that the boom took off even more around about 2005. This time the growth was largely due to women. They were finally now coming out to run in large numbers. Some people call these time frames (the 1990s and 2000s) the second and third running booms, respectively. Others may refer to them collectively as the second running boom. Whatever you call them, the numbers continue to grow, and the sport continues to flourish and thrive as well as evolve.
Although I have friends who have been running as long as I have, most of those I run with are relatively new to the sport. This is a great and wonderful thing. May it never end.
And it all began that fateful day in Munich.
Resources
Blount, Roy Jr. 1969. “Tallest, Fastest, and Buggiest,” Sports Illustrated, June 16. http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/vault/article/magazine/MAG1082518/index.htm
Brant, John. 2011. “Frank’s Story,” Runner’s World, August 31. http://www.runnersworld.com/article/0,7120,s6-239-567--14056-0,00.html
Burfoot, Amby. 2007. “Frank Shorter Talks About His Marathon Trials, and This Year’s Too,” Runners World, October 24. http://www.runnersworld.com/cda/microsite/article/0,8029,s6-239-569--12219-2-1-2,00.html
Fixx, James. 1977. The Complete Book of Running. New York: Random House.
Wikipedia. 2011. Frank Shorter http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1972_Summer_Olympics
“Frank Shorter,” Wikipedia, last modified May 19, 2012, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frank_Shorter
Frei, Terry. 2008. “Shorter Deserves Applause,” Denver Post, April 3. http://www.denverpost.com/sports/ci_8789432
Shorter, Frank. 2005. Frank Shorter’s Running for Peak Performance. New York: DK Publishing.
Shorter, Frank, and Steve Inskeep. 2006. “Attack on 1972 Games Shadows Olympics,” National Public Radio, February 21. http://www.npr.org/programs/morning/transcripts/2006/feb/060221.shorter.html
A sudden thought occurred to me during a recent sleepless night: it has been 40 years since Frank Shorter’s Olympic marathon win at the 1972 Olympic Games. I reflected on the moment. Those Games were as memorable as any. They included Mark Spitz, Lasse Viren, Steve Prefontaine, Olga Korbut, Dave Wottle, the USA men’s basketball team’s loss to the Soviet Union, and also the Munich massacre—the killing of the Israeli athletes. But for many road runners old enough to have seen it, our most vivid, most enduring memory was that of Shorter’s win.
It wasn’t just the fact that no American had won the event since 1908. Here before our eyes, on live television, this seemingly average American man was able to train hard enough to win against the world’s best. For me, the image of Shorter entering the Olympic Stadium ahead of everyone else (except an impostor) will forever be etched in my memory.
Of course, I understand that Shorter is anything but average, but that was the thought at the time. And that’s a large part of the reason that his win marked the start of the running movement. It certainly got me going.
A watershed moment if there ever was one, Shorter’s gold medal sparked running as we know it today. Before the 1972 Olympics, only a few odd, skinny people ran. There were only a handful of marathons and other road races available around the country. After the 1972 Olympics, truly average people began to believe that if they just went out and trained, great things could happen.
Great things did happen. With all the new runners hitting the roads, several big cities inaugurated marathons and other road races to accommodate them. The growth of road racing began to accelerate further; with more road racing in the spotlight, even more people began to run.
And the trend continues to this day, although not without some setbacks and lulls. But now the growth is accelerating to levels unfathomable in 1972.
It started with an American guy entering the Olympic Stadium and crossing the finish line 40 years ago.
Before Munich
Yes, there was running before the 1972 Munich Olympics. Track and field enjoyed perhaps a little more notoriety than it does today. US sprinters led the world, as they do now. Among distance runners, Marty Liquori, Jim Ryun, Billy Mills, and most recently Steve Prefontaine had all become well known in the previous decade.
US high schools and colleges fielded track and cross-country teams, as they do now. Football and basketball programs grabbed more attention, as they still do today, but some young athletes dedicated themselves to running.
Two factors limited the future for runners after their college days were completed. First, it was virtually impossible to make a living by running. With amateurism as the rule for the Olympics as well as for most other events, sponsorship opportunities were almost unknown. Professional runners were nearly nonexistent.
The second limiting factor was that there were only a handful of opportunities to compete in road races. The Boston Marathon had a proud tradition, and there were some other marathons and road races of other distances. But these events were so few, and so small, that most runners didn’t bother with them. In fact, most people weren’t aware of road races at all. Most didn’t know what a marathon was. Road running, for most practical purposes, did not exist yet.
Five years before the 1972 Olympic Games, Kathrine Switzer had her famous encounter with Jock Semple at the Boston Marathon. At the time, the Boston Athletic Association had articulated no policy regarding women runners. Switzer entered the race as “K. V. Switzer.” Partway through the run, B.A.A. race organizer Semple attempted to physically force her out of the race. A boyfriend intervened, and Switzer famously completed the marathon. Photos of the incident demonstrated a truth not generally believed before: women can run long distances. Who knew?
Katherine Switzer’s original Boston Marathon run in 1967 directly resulted in women being (finally) allowed to officially enter the race in 1972. This simple activity would never be the same, especially for women. It’s notable that the 1972 Olympic Games featured only limited opportunities for female distance runners to compete. The longest event for them that year was 1,500 meters. A couple of more Olympic Games would go by before women would be allowed to compete in longer events.
The 1972 Olympic Games
The Games of the XX Olympiad were much anticipated. They were held in Munich, Federal Republic of Germany (West Germany), from August 26 to September 11, 1972. The only other time the Olympic Games were held in Germany was in 1936 in Berlin. Those had come just prior to World War II, and the war was still fresh in the memories of many in 1972. The government of West Germany was intent on showing the country in a positive light.
Cold War tension was nearly at a peak. An undercurrent of the Games would be the competition between East and West. Athletes from the Soviet Union and East Germany were often the ones to beat, from the American perspective.
In the United States, television coverage would be greatly enhanced from that of previous Olympics. The expanded coverage had Americans interested and engaged as never before.
On September 5, with six days remaining, an event occurred that would shock the world and change the Games forever. A group of Palestinian terrorists known as Black September broke into the Olympic Village and proceeded to hold 11 Israeli athletes, officials, and coaches hostage. Two of the Israelis were killed early in the ordeal when they tried to overpower their captors. Later, as the terrorists and their hostages were being transferred to an airport, West German authorities attempted a rescue mission. The result was that all of the hostages and several of the terrorists were killed.
The Munich massacre, as it is now called, understandably left the Games in disarray. Olympic events were initially suspended, and then, after 24 hours and a memorial ceremony at Olympic Stadium, they were allowed to continue.
Even after the resumption of the Olympic events, American athletes, as well as many of the others, still wondered whether they ought to compete. Besides the obvious security concerns, the massacre gave them reason to think about whether it would be respectful to participate. But Olympic officials and American coaches determined that the Games must go on. The athletes ultimately agreed, and the Games did continue.
Before and after the massacre, there were many outstanding and memorable athletic events and achievements. Olga Korbut, a young, diminutive, and gifted Soviet gymnast, captured the hearts of everyone watching from around the world. American swimmer Mark Spitz won an unprecedented seven gold medals. The US men’s basketball team lost to the Soviet Union in a controversial game for the gold medal.
Track and field events were just beginning when the massacre occurred. They resumed with even more memorable feats. Popular American runner Steve Prefontaine famously took the lead in the 5,000-meter final before being passed near the finish and coming in fourth. The winner, Lasse Viren of Finland, also won gold at the 10,000, in spite of falling early in that race. In one of the most thrilling 800-meter races ever, American Dave Wottle, who had been running dead last, passed the entire field, including the last runner, a Russian, in the final 200 meters.
In the sprints, American and Soviet runners continued the close competition, with the Soviets winning more than their usual share. East German women appeared to be winning an awful lot as well.
The 1972 Olympic Marathon
Frank Shorter was born in Munich in 1947. His father, a US Army officer, had been stationed there. He grew up in Middletown, New York, graduated from Yale University, and was then busy as a law student at the University of Florida. Running the Olympic Marathon in the city of his birth was a dream come true.
Shorter had been successful on the track, winning NCAA and national 10,000-meter titles. He had only recently tried the marathon. But he had already achieved success there as well, winning the event at the Pan American Games in 1971 and tying with Kenny Moore at the US Olympic Marathon trials. What was he thinking leading up to the race? Shorter later recalled, “You can’t be afraid of anything; you can’t let the pressure get to you. After the Israeli massacre at the 1972 Olympics, if the terrorists were going to strike again, the logical event was the marathon. I had to choose to just shut that out of my mind.” And in an NPR commentary, he also stated, “We felt the Israeli athletes would have wanted this. I had a vague feeling that if as a team, we did not try to win our remaining events, the terrorists would somehow win instead . . . I ran the 1972 Olympics Marathon and never once, once, thought about terrorism. I did it that way because I simply had to. We arrived in Munich as innocent athletes and left as the first Olympic athletes to realize competing carries a risk of harm.”
It was the last day of the Games of the XX Olympiad. The marathon start was inside Olympic Stadium, and soon the runners were out on the streets of Munich. Television coverage of the event was better than for past Olympic marathons; there were cameras in the stadium to capture the start and finish, some mobile cameras, and others mounted at various locations to provide a view of the runners as they went by.
Shorter moved into the lead by about the 15-kilometer mark. He was now clearly the best runner in the field, and the cameras displayed his efficient, erect running style as he ran alone through the city of his birth. Continuing on, he maintained his lead and was not challenged for the remainder of the race.
As Shorter was approaching the finish, an impostor ran into the stadium ahead of him. Television announcers Jim McKay and Erich Segal anxiously began screaming and shouting. Segal famously yelled to Shorter (who couldn’t have heard), “It’s a fraud, Frank!”
Initially confused, and with the original roaring ovation that should have been his stolen, Shorter soon understood that he was the true winner. He crossed the line in an outstanding time of 2 hours, 12 minutes, 19 seconds. His American teammates and friends Kenny Moore and Jack Bacheler finished fourth and ninth, respectively. It was the best Olympic Marathon placing by American runners ever.
Shorter appeared to barely grasp what he had accomplished. The Olympic gold medal would be his.
But he couldn’t have been aware that a running boom would burgeon following his achievement.
I was 19 at the time. Although I had only dabbled a little in track during high school, I had been watching these Olympic Games with great interest. The marathon itself, and especially Shorter’s triumph, was already a great inspiration. I distinctly remember my brother-in-law saying to me (paraphrasing), “Here is this guy, an average American, who simply worked hard and was able to outrun the best runners in the world.” It seemed like anyone could do (nearly) the same, or at least accomplish great things, just by working at it. And running appeared to be the way for many of us.
The first running boom
You might say that baby boomers like me were ripe for something. We had just been through the 1960s, and for some of us, that came along with the related sex, drugs, and rock ’n’ roll. The Cold War was still raging, but the Vietnam War was finally winding down. Many of us were living just before, during, or right after our college years. At some point, we would have to (gulp) get a real job and make a living. Would there be more to life than work and family? And what was up with this physical fitness stuff, anyway?
I can’t remember whether I went out for a jog within the next few days after the Olympics. But within a year or two, I was definitely running, and I was doing it fairly regularly. A few of my friends were starting as well. It just seemed like the thing to do. The running boom had begun.
The New York City Marathon had been inaugurated in 1970, but the early editions consisted of loops around Central Park. In 1976, Fred Lebow redrew the course so as to run through all five boroughs, similar to the way it is today. Boston notwithstanding, the modern urban marathon was born. Road races, including marathons, so few in number before 1972, were now popping up all over the place. Within a couple of years, nearly every big city had to have its own marathon. New road races of various lengths also began to appear on the calendar. Some of the road runners even began making money.
The Complete Book of Running was published in 1977. Written by James Fixx, the work clearly described the benefits and the personal fulfillment that came from running. It became a bestseller. The book further inspired many to get out and run. And for those of us who had already started, it was further reason to keep going.
Nike, Inc. began making running shoes for the masses. A few other companies did the same. The availability of quality kicks for the rest of us was certainly an enabler to the running boom that was beginning to take place.
Like New York, the Cleveland area had seen some marathons in previous years, but the first one to catch on was the Revco Cleveland Marathon, inaugurated in 1978. A few hundred of my closest friends and I were there. I had trained hard and ran a pretty decent first marathon time, despite almost crawling near the finish. I remember saying to my wife afterward, “Never again!” But I didn’t stick to that promise.
We did not lack for inspiration. Naturally, Frank Shorter’s Olympic win was tops for single events, but Shorter himself continued to motivate, and so did several others. Shorter won other marathons and then went on to win the silver medal at the 1976 Olympic Games in Montreal, Canada. The man who beat him, Waldemar Cierpinski of East Germany, has since been linked to his country’s illegal drug program. This is ironic because by about the time this link was being verified, Shorter had become the first chairman of the new United States Anti-Doping Agency.
Bill Rodgers began to excel at road races and achieved instant fame when he won the Boston Marathon in 1975. Although Americans had won the race in the past, Boston Billy’s easy style and grace, contrasted with Shorter’s seemingly more disciplined style, made him another veritable hero to many. Rodgers went on to win Boston three more times, and he also notched a notable four victories at New York.
Steve Prefontaine evidently learned something from his experience at Munich. Although experiencing some ups and downs, he was becoming a better, more complete runner. And he was becoming more of a folk hero than before. Prefontaine had begun training seriously for the Montreal Games when he was tragically killed in an automobile accident. His friend Frank Shorter was the last to see him alive.
Where has it taken us?
In 1984, during the Games of the XXIII Olympiad in Los Angeles, Joan Benoit became the first woman to win an Olympic gold medal in the marathon. Every bit as compelling as Shorter’s win, this event further inspired many.
After Kathrine Switzer’s Boston Marathon incident and Shorter’s victory, women also began to participate in running and racing, but not in great numbers. Now, with Benoit, they had something the men had: a champion. Yet for some reason, there was a bit of a lull in the running boom during the late 1980s. People were still running, but the growth leveled off.
Things appeared to accelerate once again in the middle to late 1990s. It seemed that the boom took off even more around about 2005. This time the growth was largely due to women. They were finally now coming out to run in large numbers. Some people call these time frames (the 1990s and 2000s) the second and third running booms, respectively. Others may refer to them collectively as the second running boom. Whatever you call them, the numbers continue to grow, and the sport continues to flourish and thrive as well as evolve.
Although I have friends who have been running as long as I have, most of those I run with are relatively new to the sport. This is a great and wonderful thing. May it never end.
And it all began that fateful day in Munich.
Resources
Blount, Roy Jr. 1969. “Tallest, Fastest, and Buggiest,” Sports Illustrated, June 16. http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/vault/article/magazine/MAG1082518/index.htm
Brant, John. 2011. “Frank’s Story,” Runner’s World, August 31. http://www.runnersworld.com/article/0,7120,s6-239-567--14056-0,00.html
Burfoot, Amby. 2007. “Frank Shorter Talks About His Marathon Trials, and This Year’s Too,” Runners World, October 24. http://www.runnersworld.com/cda/microsite/article/0,8029,s6-239-569--12219-2-1-2,00.html
Fixx, James. 1977. The Complete Book of Running. New York: Random House.
Wikipedia. 2011. Frank Shorter http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1972_Summer_Olympics
“Frank Shorter,” Wikipedia, last modified May 19, 2012, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frank_Shorter
Frei, Terry. 2008. “Shorter Deserves Applause,” Denver Post, April 3. http://www.denverpost.com/sports/ci_8789432
Shorter, Frank. 2005. Frank Shorter’s Running for Peak Performance. New York: DK Publishing.
Shorter, Frank, and Steve Inskeep. 2006. “Attack on 1972 Games Shadows Olympics,” National Public Radio, February 21. http://www.npr.org/programs/morning/transcripts/2006/feb/060221.shorter.html
Monday, August 28, 2017
Emerald City Half-Marathon Race Report
When does this get easy?
The short answer: not yet.
Our family spent the weekend in a cabin in the Hocking Hills area of Ohio. We had a wonderful time hiking the hills and enjoying the tranquility. I had the brilliant idea of stopping in Dublin to run the Emerald City Half-Marathon on the way home Sunday morning. It wasn't too far out of the way, and I needed another race or two to get ready for the Erie Presque Isle Marathon.
I left the cabin at 4:30 AM in order to arrive in time to check in and loosen up for the 7:00 AM start. I was on my own; Debbie would return with the Dancer family. Although I had no trouble finding Dublin, the starting area was confusing, and I was disoriented. Parking was at a large shopping area adjacent to a hospital. I wasn't sure where to park or where to check in. I managed to get everything done in time for a little warmup run. Good thing, too: it was cool (pleasantly so), and I was tight from the trip. Not to mention yesterday's hiking.
I started with the 1:45 pace group. Since it was such a huge race, there were several pace groups, but this one suited me. 8 minute per mile pace could be a stretch, but I did manage an 8:10 pace at last week's race. That one had been about a tenth the size of this race, and much hillier. Regardless of the hills, I decided that I definitely like small races better. Much better.
The first few miles weren't bad, but then I discovered that I was working pretty darn hard to keep up with this group. By about mile 4, I was beginning to fall behind. A little before half-way We reached Glacier Ridge metro park, where we'd spend most of the rest of the miles. Note that there is neither a glacier, nor a ridge there. This is C-bus, you know, where it's as flat as can be. But I enjoyed this part of the run, nonetheless. Half-way went by in around 53 minutes. Now if I can only manage negative splits like I did last week, I'll make it to 1:45.
I couldn't. Almost, but not quite. Whereas last week, with the downhills in the second half, I could pick the pace up quite nicely, this week things only became more difficult.
Well, I did pick the pace up, but only ever so slightly. My finish time was just over 1:45. I suppose that's okay. It's two minutes faster than last week. Alright, maybe just a little better than okay. But just a little. I'm still waiting for it to get easy.
The short answer: not yet.
Our family spent the weekend in a cabin in the Hocking Hills area of Ohio. We had a wonderful time hiking the hills and enjoying the tranquility. I had the brilliant idea of stopping in Dublin to run the Emerald City Half-Marathon on the way home Sunday morning. It wasn't too far out of the way, and I needed another race or two to get ready for the Erie Presque Isle Marathon.
I left the cabin at 4:30 AM in order to arrive in time to check in and loosen up for the 7:00 AM start. I was on my own; Debbie would return with the Dancer family. Although I had no trouble finding Dublin, the starting area was confusing, and I was disoriented. Parking was at a large shopping area adjacent to a hospital. I wasn't sure where to park or where to check in. I managed to get everything done in time for a little warmup run. Good thing, too: it was cool (pleasantly so), and I was tight from the trip. Not to mention yesterday's hiking.
I started with the 1:45 pace group. Since it was such a huge race, there were several pace groups, but this one suited me. 8 minute per mile pace could be a stretch, but I did manage an 8:10 pace at last week's race. That one had been about a tenth the size of this race, and much hillier. Regardless of the hills, I decided that I definitely like small races better. Much better.
The first few miles weren't bad, but then I discovered that I was working pretty darn hard to keep up with this group. By about mile 4, I was beginning to fall behind. A little before half-way We reached Glacier Ridge metro park, where we'd spend most of the rest of the miles. Note that there is neither a glacier, nor a ridge there. This is C-bus, you know, where it's as flat as can be. But I enjoyed this part of the run, nonetheless. Half-way went by in around 53 minutes. Now if I can only manage negative splits like I did last week, I'll make it to 1:45.
I couldn't. Almost, but not quite. Whereas last week, with the downhills in the second half, I could pick the pace up quite nicely, this week things only became more difficult.
Well, I did pick the pace up, but only ever so slightly. My finish time was just over 1:45. I suppose that's okay. It's two minutes faster than last week. Alright, maybe just a little better than okay. But just a little. I'm still waiting for it to get easy.
Saturday, August 19, 2017
Buehler's Heart and Sole Community Walk and Run Half-Marathon Race Report
I'm tired just from typing that subject line.
I'm also tired from running this Hilly Half in Wildly Wonderful Wooster. I had no time goal, or other expectation going in. A steady effort, which on this course should translate into negative splits, would be nice, however.
Why negative splits, you ask? The course begins and ends in downtown Wooster. Almost immediately after the start, runners are going up. And up. And up some more. After half-way, it's back down towards the start on the mostly out and back course. I've done it before; I knew what to expect.
It was warm and humid during the early miles. I'd thought it would be cooler. I was doing 8:30 miles, but they were tough. The steeper the uphill section, the slower I ran. Funny how that works. I saw a bunch of friends before and during the race. Unfortunately, one of them was Doug Hradek, who is a good runner and who also happens to be in my age group.
I hit the half-way point (6.55 miles) in 55 minutes flat. Breaking 1:50 now sounded pretty good, and I picked it up a little. The downhills got better over the final five miles, so at that point, I picked it up a little more.
That's when the thunderstorm hit. It hit hard. I had been watching the clouds from about mile 7 on, and they looked scary. There were layers upon layers of dark, foreboding clouds, and I could see the rain coming down in the distance. By mile 8, huge drops were splashing down, and there was thunder all around.
Mile 9 had some steep uphills, so I slowed back down for a while. But the storm soon ended, about as fast as it started; the downpour only lasted about fifteen minutes. A light rain persisted afterwards. Mile 10 was a psychological boon this day. I hit it in 1:23:30 (that's about my half-marathon PR by the way), and began trying to run my fastest miles of the day. Would I be able to?
The short answer is yes. I ran the final 3 in 23 and a half minutes, for a time of 1:47 flat. I was second in my age group, two minutes behind Doug. First would have been nice, but I'll take it.
I'm also tired from running this Hilly Half in Wildly Wonderful Wooster. I had no time goal, or other expectation going in. A steady effort, which on this course should translate into negative splits, would be nice, however.
Why negative splits, you ask? The course begins and ends in downtown Wooster. Almost immediately after the start, runners are going up. And up. And up some more. After half-way, it's back down towards the start on the mostly out and back course. I've done it before; I knew what to expect.
It was warm and humid during the early miles. I'd thought it would be cooler. I was doing 8:30 miles, but they were tough. The steeper the uphill section, the slower I ran. Funny how that works. I saw a bunch of friends before and during the race. Unfortunately, one of them was Doug Hradek, who is a good runner and who also happens to be in my age group.
I hit the half-way point (6.55 miles) in 55 minutes flat. Breaking 1:50 now sounded pretty good, and I picked it up a little. The downhills got better over the final five miles, so at that point, I picked it up a little more.
That's when the thunderstorm hit. It hit hard. I had been watching the clouds from about mile 7 on, and they looked scary. There were layers upon layers of dark, foreboding clouds, and I could see the rain coming down in the distance. By mile 8, huge drops were splashing down, and there was thunder all around.
Mile 9 had some steep uphills, so I slowed back down for a while. But the storm soon ended, about as fast as it started; the downpour only lasted about fifteen minutes. A light rain persisted afterwards. Mile 10 was a psychological boon this day. I hit it in 1:23:30 (that's about my half-marathon PR by the way), and began trying to run my fastest miles of the day. Would I be able to?
The short answer is yes. I ran the final 3 in 23 and a half minutes, for a time of 1:47 flat. I was second in my age group, two minutes behind Doug. First would have been nice, but I'll take it.
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