When Coffee Doesn't Work, Part 257

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Annual MCRR Poorly Organized Summer Run and Picnic

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the other 90% is physical

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

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

Physical Well Being Update

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

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

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

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

Things were going a little too good

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

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

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

Twin Sizzler 2019 Edition

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

MCRR Friends before the start

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


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

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

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

Me with my two first place medals

Junk Miles

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Historic Run

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

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

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

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

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

Sweet and Savory Sixty Mile Relay

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

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

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

90%

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

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

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

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

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

AT - An Update

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not Quite as Expected

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Medina Half Marathon

1:55. I survived another hot one.

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

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

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

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

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

The 2019 Rite-Aid Cleveland Marathon

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

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

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

Allow me a few additional observations.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If I Get Through This Thing

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the Moment

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

I must be out of my mind.


....

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

I suppose I'd better train.

Heart of a Champion, Post 1

Not only did I have a lousy day at the 20-Mile Drop, but since then, I’m running as poorly as ever. I’m not sure what it is, because I appeared to be on the upswing prior to the race. Now it’s more like a downward spiral.

Part of it may be old age. That’s my constant fear: that I’ll never get back to where I was, and perhaps not even where I was fairly recently. 

But then, maybe I will. I do have the Heart of a Champion, you know. Or do I?

Stand by for more thoughts about Heart(s) of a Champion in future posts. I have such thoughts at times.

Twenty-Mile Drop Race Report

The Twenty-Mile Drop is a point-to-point race from Chardon to Fairport Harbor. Drop is in the name because there is a net downhill elevation drop of about 700 feet; the finish is right on the Lake Erie beach. It would be my first race in three and a half months, and of course the first since my slovenly month-long cruise.

Joy in the Journey

I drive over to the Brunswick Kmart parking lot, where I transfer myself and my stuff into Andy Wolff’s car. Andy and Michelle drive me to Fairport Harbor, where we check in, use the facilities, and transfer to the bus, which transports us to the starting area in Chardon. That ride seems to take a long time, indicating to me that twenty miles are a long way, indeed. In fact, by the time we line up for the start, it has already been a long day.

Snags

One snag is the weather. It’s as bad as it can get this time of the year: 40F, wind, and rain. I keep thinking that since the rain was from the north, it would negate the advantage of running downhill all this way. Time would prove me right.

The other snag occurs as I am hurrying to get out of Andy’s car in order to board the bus. A last-minute decision to switch from two shirts to one shirt and a jacket results in a snagged jacket zipper. I struggle with it until it breaks. The result is that I start the race wearing two shirts and a trash bag. Quite fashionable, if I don’t say so myself.

Parks and Bike-Trails

Much of the first half of the course is through parks on bike trails. I would be enjoying the serenity of the natural beauty if I weren’t so cold and miserable. I make a few stops, and this doesn’t help my time: I take my trash bag off, use some gels, make a bathroom stop. My hands don’t work correctly when they’re this cold. But then, nothing else is going very well today either, so why bother worrying about my time or place? I didn’t have any great expectations coming in, but this is not a good run by any standard.

I’d run the first couple miles with Andy, Michelle, Maureen Oblander, and Ladd Clifford. They had left me in the dust (well, the wet dust) by mile two or three. But now at about half-way I catch Andy and am running a couple of those middle miles with him. But where are Michelle and Mo? I suppose that I’ll have to run faster still if I wanted to catch those two.

The Final Few

Although I’ve been slow today, at least I’ve been steady; my first three five-mile splits are 44:39, 44:26, and 44:41. By now I know I’m not going to pick it up any faster. The wind and rain have taken too much out of me. But can I at least manage one more split under 45 minutes?

The short answer is, yes I can: the final split is 44:45, and the final overall time is 2:58. I never see Mo or Michelle until after the finish, where I learn that they and Ladd had all run quite well.

Wish I could say the same. Guess I was due for some humble pie. It’s good with ice cream. And cold rain.

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!