Runs with Wolffs

Just a brief explanation about the title of this post: there was once a movie entitled, Dances with Wolves and that name inspired this post. But here it's about running (of course), and also about Wolffs, as in my friends Michelle and Andy. It's also about running on Wolff Road.

Actually, that's all I really wanted to say.

Except that I've been running with training partner Michelle for years and years now. It's been good to have such a reliable companion who doesn't complain about hearing the same lousy stories each time. And that those runs and the weekend ones where Andy has joined us are at an insanely early hour. And that today's run was on Wolff Road near Valley City, which is not the same Wolff Road that we run on in Brunswick.

A Bad Run Outside

I've said it before, and I'm thinking it today: A bad run outside trumps a good run inside (sorry, but that verb works best here).

Only part-way through my first mile. I'm sorely tempted to turn around and complete the planned 18-miler on the mill. The cold wind is bracing, and I'm just not motivated. What's the point, I wonder, of suffering like this in this never-ending winter. Well aware that I'll hate the mill even more, I may, in fact, just call it a day completely.

The worst part is that I'm moving so slowly that you almost couldn't even call it a run. At this pace - and I know it won't get much better - I won't come close to making my mileage goal.

Then a couple funny things happen. As I am recalling my 'bad run outside' mantra, I also think about my friend Larry Orwin, who can't run at all due to severe injuries. Larry loves running as much as I do, and this hiatus is killing him as it would me, So now I decide to stay out a little longer, and to not feel too sorry for myself. Okay, so it's cold, I now think, at least I'm moving, and I'm even doing something I claim to enjoy.

The funniest thing to happen occurs just as the snow begins: I actually DO begin to enjoy the run.

Do I complete the desired mileage? Not even close. Can I consider this a quality run? Ha. But did I get some measure of joy out of it - more than I'd have gotten on the mill? You bet!

Those People Have Issues

“You see these people jogging around parking lots after their run to round up their miles. These people have issues.”

That was Connie Gardner.

Although I pretty much agree with this assessment, I must sheepishly admit to occasionally engaging in this activity myself. And yes, that’s what I am doing now: running around the Hinckley Spillway area parking lot as well as a little on the all-purpose trail. I need that half-mile to get my total up to fifty for the week. Never mind that:

• Fifty is a pretty small number compared with my mileage a couple months ago, when sixty was the norm.
• Although I’ve lost about half of the twelve pounds I brought home from the cruise, I’ve still got a way to go.
• Today’s Hinckley nine actually seemed to go fairly well, after some slow miles in the beginning as well as that slow plod up the hills. All’s well that ends well. But it was the standing around and talking for twenty minutes in between the two runs – and getting cold in the process – that did me in.

There. I did it. Now I can go back to being issue-less.

Running from Cape Town to Singapore

Morning run on deck - that's not me however, it's some real runner

This is not quite as epic as it may seem. It’s not that I’m actually running the entire way. I am on a cruise ship that is en route between those two locations. And a great deal of said running is not even on shore. Some consists of circles around the deck of the ship, and other miles are done on the treadmill. Here are a few story snippets anyway.

We’re docked in Cape Town, S.A., and I do manage to get off the ship and go for a run. It’s very early, and almost no one is about. I go by some tall buildings and make it over to the V & A Market area, where we walked the previous day. Cape Town is cool. Too bad I don’t have more time here. As I return, I go up to the top deck to ogle a lunar eclipse. It’s occurring just as it gets light, and with the moon setting.

Now I’m running in East London, S.A. I hadn’t expected to have any time to run here, but that changed, so out here I am. There is litter everywhere, and the neighborhood isn’t so good. But I shortly make my way over to Orient Beach. This is indeed a nice recreational area. They’re setting up for a major event: an Ironman Triathlon.

Another place that I hadn’t expected to run, but where I do manage to do so is Richard’s Bay, S.A. This time it’s a matter of getting out and back whilst it’s still early. I do, but before that I encounter something I never in a million years expected here: other runners. Several of them. I believe they’re not from the ship, but are staying at a nearby resort hotel.

On one of my ship-bound runs, I’m having a rough time. I start running clockwise because no one else is around at this early hour. It’s 12 to 16 laps per mile (depending on inside or outside the track, and what kind of mood my garmin is in), and that’s a lot of turning. I normally have to go with the flow (counter-clockwise), but lately, I mix it up when I can. And speaking of mixing things up, I usually can’t stand too many of these on-deck miles, so I find myself completing many of my runs on the treadmill. Not that that’s a picnic either. But This day, even with the unusual direction, I’m feeling extremely sore, and more so with each mile. I complete this ten mile run on the treadmill, but it’s not pretty. Not sure what went wrong here. Is it too much mileage? Too much turning, regardless of direction? Or could it be something else? I had just begun taking Malerone for prevention of malaria; maybe this fatigue and soreness is a side-effect? On top of that, I have blood in my urine, and some related difficulty with urination. Could that be the Malerone? A kidney stone? Dehydration?

It must have just been dehydration. I’m better now, really. Until this happens: I’m doing my third consecutive daily ten-miler, and my hip begins to hurt. As nearly always, I’ve combined treadmill and deck running, and dislike both. The pain runs from my back to my left hip and down my left leg. I nearly stop, but somehow complete the ten. Now it’s time for a day off.

I know you’re tired of hearing about these maladies, so I’ll endeavor to talk about other things. Something else that happens today: I spot the Southern Cross. I also see Venus and Jupiter in a bright array with the crescent moon. This is why I run. Even when it hurts.

After two days off, I slowly begin to run again.

It’s 4:20 AM, but it feels earlier because of the time change; we’re heading east, and we have crossed into a new time zone. Passengers and crew are often few and far between at this hour, but that’s not the case today. A Super Bowl party is going on in Horizons Lounge, where I go to get my pre-run coffee.  The TV is on, the sound is turned up, and there are a couple dozen people watching. After the outdoor portion of my run, I complete the run on the treadmill, where I watch the fourth quarter.

“Squaaaaaak!” Well, that sure made me jump. I am running my loops on deck, and it’s just getting light. I stop and look around to see what made that godawful noise. It’s a seabird that’s in the eaves of the forward part of this deck. He squawks at the other runners as well, and we’re now all trying to figure out what to do with him. He tries to fly, and we try to shoo him to a place where he can do so, but nothing’s working. So he continues to squawk at us as we go by. Time passes. It gets lighter. Our friend eventually can see the sky and the horizon, manages to waddle to a place where he can take off, and does so, not even looking back. I hope he enjoyed the ship’s buffet.

I said I wouldn’t discuss my maladies any further. I lied. This back/hip thing can attack at any time, and when it does, it’s debilitating. I have now completely sworn off running on the track. Yesterday I manage a two-mile run in Sri Lanka, and today it’s five on the mill: the ship is rocking and rolling, big-time. It makes mill running kind of fun and it adds some measure of challenge to just stay vertical.

Okay, it’s my final rodeo on one of these treadmills. Since I no longer do laps (that hip is still hurting), and since I no longer do ten-milers (I don’t have the time because the Fitness Center doesn’t open till 6:00 AM), I’m relegated to these slow three to six-mile mill runs. I hate them, but I suppose they’re better than not running at all.

I sure hope this hip heals by the time I get home and start running for real again.

2019 Brunswick Marathon

Just because the Brunswick Marathon is also known as the BM, please don’t expect any tasteless jokes. We here at Dan Horvath Running Blog Headquarters have high standards, and would never, ever stoop so low as to say anything like, 'Join us for the first BM of the year,' or, 'This BM will be BIG - Really BIG,' or 'The BM the morning after New Year’s Eve is always great.'

That out of the way, we should say that the January 1, 2019 BM came about because the Landis Loonies Marathon did not. LLM took place in New London, OH, and it was one of those small, friendly races. Unfortunately, Kevin and Keith Landis decided not to hold it this year. The BM would be a similar format: four 6.55 mile loops on New Year’s Day morning.

Race Director Dan was gratified to see eighteen starters show up at Brunswick Panera. He (and they) got lucky with the weather; it was about as good as it can get in January.

Several runners stuck together for the first loop. But several dropped out after that, and Larry Orwin, Pete Kostelnick, Frank Dwyer, and RD Dan stayed together for one more. After that, it was only Pete and Dan. But there were only two more loops. Piece of cake, right?

By the fourth loop, Pete was getting tired, but RD Dan pulled him along. Editor’s note: We suggest someone fact-check that last statement.

Pete and Dan finished together in 4:18. Angela Demchuk, Felicia Fago, and Michael Kazar also finished the race.

Seemed as though everyone had a fun and satisfying BM.

2018 Year in Review

I ran a lot. The end.

~~~

Okay, since you asked, I will say a teensy bit more about 2018. It was half-way to pretty decent. Some further thoughts:

1) I won three races. Having not won a race since the 2008 Green Jewel 100K, this was something. Please don't ask how many runners had each of these races, because I'd have to tell you: 3 finishers, 1 finisher, and 7 finishers. But hey, a win's a win.

2) I did indeed run a lot of miles, Part 1: 3076.94 to be exact. That's the most since 2012. My 10.5 minutes per mile average pace was only slightly better than that of 2017 however.

3) I did indeed run a lot of miles, Part 2: In November, I made it to 100,000 lifetime miles. I am now working on that second hundred. They say the second one is easier.

4) I ran some lousy short stuff, some almost awful half-marathons, some okay marathons, and one pretty decent marathon: the Veterans Marathon in PA.

5) I did okay by winning my age group in one category and finishing second in another for the Ohio Challenge Series. Not that those races were all that good. It's just getting more sparce in my age group.

I could probably say more about myself. But don't worry; I'll stop. Except to say, here's a chart!

Weekly mileage for 2018

Old Bulls and Young Bulls by Dan Horvath

This was published in a 1997 Michigan USATF Newsletter. The events described actually occurred many years prior. But that don't matter; I think it's timeless.

My friends Geoff Chase, Garry Watson, and Brian Peacock are mentioned.

~

I knew that I shouldn't have started it. After all, I was a relatively mature, experienced runner who ought to know better than to begin a quarter mile Sprint To The Finish after a long run around a lake. Especially against Geoff. I hadn't known him (or run with him) for very long before this day, but it wouldn't have taken an expert to see that Geoff was taller, leaner and most of all younger than I was. Of course all of that would add up to his being faster, too.

After the surprise wore off, he quickly erased my early lead. Then I saw it. A grassy area around which the road curved for the final turn before the parking lot. I managed to cut across before he could see me (since I was trailing by this time) and barely beat him to the cars. I was proud to have given Geoff this introduction to cheating, at least in terms of running. Old age and cunning are still champion, but those of us in that category must be eternally vigilant.

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

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

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

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

Also on the subject of cheating, Garry, another running friend who is slightly in the "older bull" category, has this theory about it: it's okay to cheat as long as you know that you're cheating. I guess we become somewhat the philosophers as we become older bulls. Anyway, according to this theory, the only true cheaters are those who cheat and then fool themselves into thinking that they aren't.
Garry seems to be constantly aware of any cheating he may do or try, so he does practice what he preaches. He once mentioned that he was considering a new rounding method for his training log. This was intended to make up for the lower mileage that seems to come with old age. The technique was this: he would always round up. But not just to the nearest mile (as I may have done once or twice), but to the nearest five miles! If he runs six miles, he would log ten, and if he runs eleven miles he would log fifteen. In fact, he could just take a step out the door and give himself credit for five miles!

Brian had this comment about Garry's proposed rounding technique: many years from now, archeologists will find Garry's running log, containing somewhat longer distances than expected for the routes that were run, and exclaim, "The world is getting smaller!"

This all leads me to the following reflection:

The old bulls' brains slowly become rattled, worthless meat
Brought on by the constant pounding of their feet.
Rounding helps, they think
But it makes the world shrink
And the only way to beat the young bulls is to cheat!

By the way, if you ever have a Sprint To The Finish against Geoff, you'll have to come up with something new. Now wise to all of our tricks, he beats Brian and me every time. Maybe he's just becoming a more mature bull.

Who Cooks for You?

As we've done many times in the past, we arranged for Debbie to meet me at Hinckley so that we could walk around the lake immediately following my run there. The run was nice, with several friends participating.

The weather was unusually warm, so both the run and the walk were enjoyable. But the really cool thing is that Debbie and I saw two large owls near the lake as we were completing out walk. We stopped to watch them for quite a while as they spent time on the ground and in the nearby trees. It was a thrill.

Some owls seem to be saying, "Who Cooks for You?" At least that's the way it sounds to me. Debbie's dad (and also Debbie) used to say that the summer song of the chickadee sounds like, "Who Did It?" I've disagreed, saying there were only two, not three notes in the song.

Clearly, whoever did it also cooks for you.

Ohio Challenge Series

Greg Everal OCS Director and me        Greg Everal Photo

Huge, ambitious plans were afoot. It was the beginning of 2018, and I needed a challenge. The test? To run shorter races and get faster. I would train for 5K, 5-Mile, and 10K races, and participate in them fairly often, thereby training and racing myself into better shape. To encourage myself to do more of these races, I registered for the Ohio Challenge Series or OCS. There are dozens of races, mostly shorter ones, and competition is by age-group within several broad distance categories.

OCS has been around for something like twenty years. I participated in OCS for many of the early years, but not for the past nine or ten. I was too busy doing marathons and ultramarathons. Now I’d use the challenge to challenge myself to get better. Oh, I would not retire completely from marathoning. I’d just concentrate more on the shorter, faster stuff. Such a strategy may even have a positive effect on said marathons themselves.

Readers of this blog will be aware that this didn’t happen. I didn’t race myself into shape, and I didn’t get faster. I did manage to get more injured. My Achilles Tendonitis seemed to hurt more when I just thought about 5Ks and 10Ks.

However, the competition gets thin near my ancient age-group, and there are those multiple categories. I did not do the required number of 5Ks, but I did run the necessary three 5-Mile/10K races and even exceeded the required two half-marathons in order to compete in those categories. What’s more, I thought I was leading. (Now you have an idea where this is heading.)

Debbie and I attended the OCS awards banquet at Breitenbach Winery yesterday. I expected two category firsts. But a funny thing happened. After winning the 10K category award ($40 and a hat), I learned that I was second in the half-marathon category. A fellow named Joe Tarantino had won. I guess I’ll have to settle for only $30 and a hat for that one.

I did get to meet the new organizers of the series. Nice folks. Will I participate next year? Race myself into shape on the second try? Who knows? Okay: probably.

Ninth Annual Buckeye Woods 50K

I finished my tenth BW50K at the ninth annual run today. This is possible because one of my ten was the eighth and a halfth run which was held off-season this past summer.

Back in 2010, our club, the Medina County Road Runners decided to hold a free (for club members) run at Buckeye Woods County Park. It would be six 5-mile loops through the wetlands and woods, returning to the shelter after each circuit. It would be after Thanksgiving when the weather tends to add to the challenge. Oh, and guess who became Race Director?

About 30 of us just before the start                      Michelle Wolff photo

The race has been ably managed by Michelle Wolff and Harold Dravonstott the past couple of years. But this year I helped as well, so there were actually three RDs. The best of all worlds.

After all the cold, rain and snow the past few weeks, today turned out to be a great running day; temperatures were in the forties, the wind was light, and the sun even came out in the afternoon. This is not to say that all of the running conditions were perfect, however. There was mud in the wooded areas, and a lot of it. Where there was no mud, there was often standing water a few inches deep. By the way: some of us learned that it's best to run right through the water, rather than slipping and sliding in the mud alongside.

There were about thirty starters. It was gratifying to see so many folks out enjoying their Sunday-After-Turkey-Day-Fatass Run. A lot of them were only out there to enjoy a few miles or a couple 5-mile loops. Those who did at least three loops were credited with recognition of a 25K finish. Renee Harden, Debbie Scheel, and Ladd Clifford were among the top 25K runners.

With an additional 25K to go, I didn't try to contend with those fast folk. Not that I could have, anyway. Even so, I was running well enough by half-way that I thought there might be a chance for a five-hour 50K today.

Lap four started a little slower, and I never got moving quite so fast again. Oh, I was running all right, just a little slower. And now that the 25K-ers were finishing up, things were getting much more lonely out there. There were a couple fast guys ahead of me, and speedy Debbie Horn and superb running partner Theresa Wright were close behind.

After lap five or so, the two fast guys, who turned out to be twins, dropped out. I was now in the lead, but I had two very fast women chasing me. And before we start with the jokes, let me say that now I was possibly subject to being chicked.  For the uninformed, if you're a man and a woman beats you, this is fine - we can certainly handle such things. It's the new Millenium and all that. But if you're the first man and a woman beats you, then you're chicked. You might say I was 'scared chickless.'

Lap six was about like laps four and five: slow, but still moving forward. My lap splits for these three were remarkably similar. Even so, I did look behind occasionally to make sure no one was sneaking up.

I finished in 5:25, a little ahead of Debbie and Theresa. I think there were seven 50K finishers in all. I'm very happy with the win, but I believe that my recent races have taken a lot out of me. Now I'm really burned up. Time for some rest.

Theresa Wright and me              Sydney Chinchana photo

Three Things

I recently ran a marathon during which I surpassed 100,000 lifetime miles. I was asked to write something about it for the Medina County Road Runners Newsletter. If you've been following my blog, you've seen some other posts about this mileage milestone. This is more of the same.

Three things I know are true:

1) There are a lot of accomplished runners out there. Some are ultrarunners. Some, I'm proud to say, are my friends. Some of these folks have also run gobs of miles, possibly even as many as I. But...

2) A lot of runners don't track their mileage as I do. I know. I'm a little goofy like this. It's in my genes. Maybe my jeans as well. Counting, tracking, measuring: it's what I do. I do it for a living, and also for fun. Most folks don't suffer from this measurement disease. I simply have my very own anal-retentive trait, that's all. Even so...

3) 100,000 is still a lot of miles.

The logging began in 1978, the year of my first marathon. I ran in some years that I cannot account for, but my total includes only miles for which I have log entries. Every one of the 100,000 is documented in some way: miles that I've tracked in logbooks, in spreadsheets, using online applications, and most recently with my GPS device.

Some fun with that number:

• The circumference of the earth is 24,901 miles, so I've gone around over four times.
• The distance from the earth to the moon is 238,900 miles, so I've gone 41.8 percent of the way there.
• The distance from the earth to the sun is 93,000,000 miles, so I've only gone 0.108 percent of the way there.
• 100,000 miles over 41 years is an average of 2,439 miles per year.
• 100,000 miles in 41 years is an average of 6.68 per day.

During a recent group run, I was asked which of my many runs are the most memorable. We discussed a few:

Completing my one and only 100-mile race at Mohican (I might have added that my DNF at that location ten years hence was also memorable).

The Green Jewell 100K where I got lost, then found, then won the race, then had to get in the car and go directly to the airport in order to fly to Europe. Thank goodness for baby wipes.

The time I was running in pitch-dark blackness with only a reflective vest (these don’t work so well when there is no light to reflect), and was hit head-on by something moving very fast down a hill. It was a biker who wound up sprawled away from his now crooked bike. I never saw him coming.

I could have also mentioned my first marathon, my first sub-three-hour marathon that took 11 years to achieve, and my last sub-three that occurred on the most beautiful day the Towpath can offer.

But my most important and most memorable run will be my next one. My next one with friends that is. I like the solitude of running alone, but running with friends is all that much better. I enjoy, remember and cherish group runs more than any. My next one of those will surely be my most memorable.

Until the one after that.

Whiteout

Using the term, 'whiteout' to describe today's run may be a bit of a stretch. On the other hand, that is indeed what I was confronted with when I turned on my headlamp. Here's the (brief) story.

...

I pass through the tunnel and emerge into the park. It's dark, so I switch on my headlamp. That's when the whiteoutness hits me. I'm nearly blind!

As I drove in only a few minutes ago, it wasn't that cold, and it wasn't snowing all that much. But now, it's a different story. I do the only thing that makes sense: I switch my headlamp back to off. Relief is immediate.

And now I'm running in a winter wonderland. Even though it's snowing hard, it's not accumulating much. The park is deserted, and quiet as can be. I can see fairly well, as the snow lights things up some when it's not reflecting the whiteness back into my eyes. The beauty matches the serenity.

Made in America Half-Marathon

I should be giving myself more time to recover after last Sunday's Veteran's Marathon, thought I. I should also give myself some time to breathe after traveling 100,000 Miles, thought I. But rest and relaxation were not in the cards today.

Made in America, at about $40 is pretty cheap, it's mostly on a nice crushed limestone surface, and it's in the Ohio Challenge Series, where I wanted to solidify my lead in this category. Furthermore, several of my Medina area friends were carpooling to the event. I haven't done that in a while and forgot how much fun it could be.

It was in the low 20s at the start, but I warmed up quickly during the early road miles. From mile four on, the race was on the towpath. Since this was in Massillon, I don't think I've run on this section before, but it was like other parts.

As much as I like the soft surface, the serenity, and the beauty of the towpath (it was a whole lot like last week), I slowed down. The first four were at about 8:15 pace, whereas the remainder of the race was at 8:27 pace. I had begun to slow down even further during the final miles when some of the runners around me began to encourage one another. This helped a great deal.

Even though we were now moving faster again, a sub-1:50 would be a challenge. Would I (we) make it?

Not quite this time. I came in at 1:50:16.

I'm okay with this. I am sure I could have done much better had I not raced last week, and I believe I did, in fact, ice my series lead. Best of all, I enjoyed it, especially the camaraderie with my friends.

Celebration

It was 22 degrees, but that wasn't the problem. There was a half-inch of snow, but that wasn't the problem either. There was some ice (actually, quite a bit) on the roads going down to Buckeye Woods County Park; that was the problem.

After some slipping and sliding, I managed to get behind first one, then another snowplow as they were beginning to treat the roads.

This first bout of nasty weather in a while kept some of the massive crowds away from my Buckeye Woods 50K Training Run and 100,000-Mile Celebration Run. As it turned out, only a handful of hard-core runners, such as Rick Roman, Kelly Parker, Harold Dravenstott, Theresa Wright, Larry Orwin, and Dennis Amstutz made the scene. They were more than enough.

We ran the BW50K 5-Mile loop. It was cold, but fun. And it was enough for me this day.

Now that I’m officially on the north side of that 100,000-Mile milestone, it’s incredibly gratifying to have such great friends. I am honored and overwhelmed.

Most of the hardy revelers     Photo by Larry Orwin

Me and my fancy pants         Photo by Larry Orwin

My 100K Cookie - thanks to Larry Orwin!

InFirst Bank Veteran's Marathon

Debbie and I arrive Saturday, the day before the race. We take a stroll around Keystone State Park, before pasta loading at Olive Garden, and then retiring at Springhill Suites, Latrobe, PA. Latrobe is about 30 minutes away from Saylor Park in Black Lick, PA, the site of the start and finish of the InFirst Bank Veteran's Marathon.

It's in the thirties as we arrive to check in. But the sun is coming out, and the temperatures are supposed to rise above fifty today. I kiss Debbie goodbye, just before the BOOM! cannon goes off.

The race is in honor of veterans, so they receive a t-shirt with their race entries, and others have the option to buy them. There are a half-marathon and a relay to accompany the marathon, but it occurs to me that there really aren't that many runners around. Maybe a couple hundred, all in all, tops.

I should say that I prefer it this way. I prefer the small numbers, the cool temperatures, the low-hassleness of the race organization, the scenic peace and quiet, and the soft, crushed limestone surface. And, on top of all that, I'm feeling half-way decent. In fact, I have to say that this is about as good as it gets.

But would I be able to run well? That's always the bottom line, isn't it?

I can't help but admire the beauty. The rails-to-trails Ghost Town Trail is absolutely gorgeous, The fall foliage is spectacular, and I enjoy every minute. Each time I hit a rough patch, I look around and oggle those wonderful colors. And each time it works; I become more relaxed and get back on track.

I ran that best-in-a-long-time 3:43 in 2017, but I haven't been able to get anywhere close afterward. I don't think I can today, either. But maybe I can come close.

I am tracking every five-mile split, and they're pretty even-steven. I hit the half-way turnaround in about 1:54. If I can keep this pace up, I'll at least break 3:50. That would be a good thing.

It's getting warmer, but I'm still comfortable. My splits are still encouraging. Will I finish strong?

My hundred-thousandth mile will occur, by my reconning, at mile 26 of today's race. If I can make that a good, strong mile, I might even beat 3:47 today. I want it to be a strong mile, I really do! And it is! It's a bit under 8:30, perhaps my fastest of the day. (I later learn that my math was off, and I'd reached 100K at mile 16 instead of 26.)

I finish in 3:46. About as good as I could hope for today - a day when marathoning is as good as it gets.

My One Hundred Thousandth Mile

My one hundred thousandth mile occurred, fittingly, during a marathon. The race was the Veterans Marathon in Pennsylvania. I thought I'd planned it out such that mile 100,000 would occur during the final mile of this, my 109th marathon, and my 145th race of marathon length or longer. I didn't realize until I got home that this wasn't the case; I'd reached 100K at about mile 16. The rest was gravy.

Today's 16th and 26th miles were probably not so much different from my first documented mile in 1978. Back then, I was training for my first marathon. But I suppose that my training miles were at around eight-minute-per-mile (or perhaps a bit slower) pace, whereas today's all-out marathon pace, including miles 16 and 26, was at about 8:39 pace. Okay, maybe mile 26 was just a hair faster.

Being the numbers guy that I am, I've counted all the miles I've run since 1978. I ran some before that, and I also ran during the 'lost year' of 1980. But since I don't have documentation on those, I am not counting them. Here's the list of my year-by-year mileage:

I should mention that I've had the honor of knowing and running with some amazing people who have accomplished nearly unbelievable things. Many are great ultrarunners, and many of them have surely run at least as much as I have over their lifetimes. But a lot of them are not quite crazy enough to want to keep track of things like this. Maybe they have better things to do.

Anyway, here are some fun facts with these numbers:

• The circumference of the earth is 24,901 miles, so I've gone around over four times.
• The distance from the earth to the moon is 238,900 miles, so I've gone 41,8 percent of the way there.
• The distance from the earth to the sun is 93,000,000 miles, so I've only gone 0.108 percent of the way there.
• 100,000 miles over 41 years is an average of 2,439 miles per year.
• 100,000 miles in 41 years is an average of 6.68 per day (I'd get better averages if it weren't for some of those 'slacker' years.)
• The average pace has slowed a little. Actually, it's slowed a lot over the last few years. Interesting that the mileage hasn't dropped, however.

Okay, that's enough now. Maybe it's time to quit. You know, hang up the old Hokas.

Naaah. I'm still gonna try for the moon. Is there another way to become the Greatest Runner Who Ever Lived?

About to Roll it Over

Remember when automobile odometers only had five digits? Probably not, but I do. It was fairly rare to have a car make it to 100,000 miles; most broke down or rusted out well before that. When you did get your car to that 100K mark, it was a Big Deal. We called this, 'rolling it over.'

That's about to happen to me. As of today, October 29, 2018, I have run 99,963.2 miles. Although we human beings don't have mechanical or even electronic odometers, some of us are numbers people. Most, however, are probably less interested in such things as I am. But I still think it's sort of a Big Deal for any human to make it to 100K without rusting out or breaking down.

Each mile is documented. When I began running, I wrote my mileage, and sometimes my time, in red (it had to be red for some reason) on the appropriate day of a pocket calendar. I still have them. Except, that is for 1980; I don't know where that went, so I don't count it. In the mid-nineties, I began tracking my mileage electronically. Later still, I began using a GPS tracker.

I thought I'd perhaps make a big fuss and have a group run to celebrate my achievement as it occurs. It doesn't look like that will work out, however. My plans are to run about ten miles tomorrow (Tuesday) and then ten again on Thursday. I'll do just a couple to loosen up on Saturday, and then Sunday is the race: the Veterans Marathon in Indiana Pennsylvania. If my math is correct, and if I follow said plan (which shouldn't be difficult), it (the rollover) should occur during that race.

Rolling it over during a marathon. Maybe that's appropriate.

2:58!!

Sub-three at my ancient age? Who'd've thunk it?

How did I manage such a thing, you ask?

With great patience and perseverance, I answer.

It's true. I started early, and I ran very easy for the first several miles. Then I arrived at the track, wriggled under the fence, and began the more intensive part of the run. Track running sure is tedious, but I still love it for its simplicity and consistency.

When I was done there, I ran the three miles home. These were slower again, but not as slow as the early running.

So that's how I ran eighteen miles in under three hours!

Now for some slightly more serious matters. For one thing, I really am happy with today's run. Yes, 10 minutes per mile is pretty slow, but I'll take it this time around. I ran long today (Friday) because tomorrow is supposed to be a washout. And although I'll run a bit tomorrow and then more on Sunday, I need to begin to think about a tapir.

Why tapir? After the Inland Trail Marathon was cancelled (I am still bummed about that), I began looking for alternatives. I somehow came up with the Veterans Marathon in Indiana, Pennsylvania. It's out and back on a rail trail. Sounds similar, eh?

It's next week, and I'm looking forward to it. But the weather doesn't look promising.

Wooster Brick Run - Unrace Report

The 25K Wooster Brick Run isn't much of a race. You start whenever you want, anytime between 7 and 9 A.M. And with everyone so spread out, it would be easy to cheat, if one is so inclined. As you may suspect, there wasn't a whole lot of support along the way - I only saw people at the four or five aid stations. Of course I saw other runners as well; at least four or five of them as well.

Coming a week after Northern Ohio, I didn't expect to set the world on fire. And lo and behold, there was indeed no world fire to be had. I ran comfortably and very slowly. Except for the last four miles, which are downhill back into downtown Wooster. I was finally able to pick up my pace a little bit there.

The important take-away here is that it was fun. A lot of fun. I ran alone on those scenic country roads on that cool, autumn morning and enjoyed every minute. After I finished, I talked with friends and enjoyed that as well.

So no, it wasn't much of a race. It was better.

Why You Should Always do a Tapir

Ah, The Importance of the Tapir.

One should always do a tapir before a race. I didn't tapir this time around, and it came back to bite me. I was so lucky that the pace guy came by to scoop me up just as was beginning to drag my proboscis in those waning miles of the Northern Ohio Marathon. That was the only way I was able to ungulate through it all.