Running a Marathon is like having a baby.

You ever talk to a mother? Of course you have, but talk to one about having babies. In particular those who actually managed to have a second one. Despite the agony of the first, somehow they still manage to come around and drop another one of the little buggers. It's like the pain from the first time just becomes a fuzzy memory; they remember that it DID hurt, but don't remember what the pain was like. I have often thought this was a defense mechanism built in by God or Darwin to ensure we keep having babies.

I realize that marathons are about the same way. When I think of training for the last marathon, all I think about is how accomplished I felt, and how good it was to run. Right now, as I am training up for #2, it hurts! "It wasn't this bad last time!" screams the voice in my head.

Frankly, he's full of it. I just went back on this very blog to see how I was feeling around Christmas last year. Read this tale of woe!

Now, I remember writing that, and finding the evil Santa pic, but I don't remember the pain! I should actually be rather happy; despite the fact that I did bonk on a 13 miler a couple of weeks ago, I am feeling much better now than I describe this time last year (and to be fair, I think I was coming down with something the morning I bonked), and am even a couple weeks ahead schedule-wise of where I was, so I won't have to cut the Higdon schedule short this time. I did 15 miles last Saturday, and am looking forward to a 16 miler this Christmas Eve. God bless us, every one.

So, I am doubly glad I started this blog. Not only do I get to share my experience with you, I get to remind myself that taking charge of your body isn't always pretty.

But I can look forward to forgetting this pain too!

Not the Intended Effect

So this was supposed to be a gripey entry because my run this morning got off to a horrible start. I wanted to run in my Vibram Five Fingers this morning (quite a few people walking around here in them) and enjoy some pseudo-barefootin' on the Waikiki beach. Ran into trouble early on. Found out my particular model of Vibrams, the Sprints, do not keep out sand. They are pretty open around the top:




In fact, they sort of pull it in and rub it against your feet, so it's kind of like running with two rock polishers on your feet. So, I stop to get the sand out and return to the nice brick walkway which spans the main drag.

When your feet are sandy, sweaty, and oceany? The VFFs don't want to go back on. After about five minutes of struggling and murmuring (and getting “is he a stalker?” looks from the cute surfer girls nearby) I got them back on and went back about my business.

Down the road a ways, I pushed the button on my iPod to see how far I'd gone. I have a little gadget which attached the Nike+ sensor to the strap on my Vibrams. When, however, I had replaced my shoes, the sensor slipped too far to one side, so it wasn't reading anything. Six minutes of running, and I was reading a 10th of a mile at a 37 minute per mile pace. Even I'm not that slow.

I fought the urge to just give up and go back. This run was ruined, but well, I was in Hawaii, and enjoying the early morning weirdness all cities ooze. So I kept going, and shut off the iPod altogether. No music no mileage; just running.

It was awesome.

See, I had realized when I first really got into this running thing that my Firm had made me obsessed with speed, which was why I hated running. I am beginning to think though, that somewhere along the line, I became equally obsessed with distance. I had to record my distance and watch my little Mike graph go up on the website. It occurred to me while running this morning that I told myself, “self, let's keep going and just have a fun run.” Wait a minute; didn't I do this whole running thing BECAUSE it was fun? Shouldn't EVERY run be a fun run?

Without that little timey-whimey distance device, I was free. I stopped to look at a store, and I sprinted across intersections getting ready to change. I was again out running for the sake of running. As a side effect, I wasn't focused on how I was running, and in my Vibrams I fell into a natural barefoot stride, and felt like I could go all day. Unfortunately, I have to go shower and go to work.

I do love my Nike+, and will continue to measure time in my Nikes, but I think when it's just me and the Vibrams, it's going to be just me and the Vibrams. Even in the Nikes, I am going to need to be careful about how wrapped around the axle I get with distance. I remembered today why I want to run, and that is just to enjoy it. Thanks Nike, I will just do it.

See the Town...

I'm going to tell you a little secret; if you want to get to know a city, I mean really get to know a city, you want to run in it. Before, I have talked about how I ran the Rocky Run in Philly, and with my buddy Jim in the suburbs there. I ran in Tampa Bay out onto the causeway watching the calm water and mistaking feral cats for hungry alligators. Let me tell you about running in Vegas.

Middle of June, I was in Vegas for my Brother-in-Law's wedding, and sure enough, I packed the Nikes to see if I could get a run in. Luckily, the first night there was neither enough alcohol or Star Trek slot machine binges to keep me from getting up in the morning to see the Strip at a 10 minute mile pace at 6 AM. What a difference a few hours makes!

We all know they Strip at night; the throngs of people, the heavy smell of smoke and booze, the din emanating from the open casinos, the clacking of semi-pornographic cards vendors are run through their fingers to try to get you to take their wares in order to have the young lady featured on the card show up in your room. (I have an inkling the young lady who would show up at your room bares little resemblance to the wanton nude on the card; I never intend to find out for myself though, so if anyone can clue me in, I would appreciate it!) That's the Strip at night, a swirling Dali-esque miasma of light and sound made surreal by the inability of your senses to absorb it all into your consciousness. So what happens when the sun comes up?

There I was, six in the morning, out to see for myself. I started from the Las Vegas Hilton, running past the Sahara, and looping around between it and the Stratosphere to bring me onto Las Vegas Boulevard, and toward the center of everything. At first, it was very quiet, and I didn't see a whole lot of anyone. Pleasant really. Then, the cast began to assemble.

First, there was the college age man, looked like a jock, still stumbling under the effects of whatever inebriation he had indulged the night before. He looked angry, and kicked at things on the ground. I passed him carefully, and was probably about a hundred yards past him when I heard him exclaim at the top of his lungs, “FUCK!” A bestial cry which I can only assume involved a female of his species who was no longer in his company. The homeless (I assume) littered the sidewalks, causing me to on at least one occasion actually jump over one's sprawled legs reaching nearly to the street. Perhaps I stereotype to call on the word “junkie” but that kind of unconsciousness I think comes only at the point of a needle. I saw another homeless man, his tweed jacket threadbare, his shoes white leather and very pointy. His hat was like something Radar O'Reilly would wear on “M.A.S.H.” and under his arm? A laptop computer. His prized possession? Spoils of theft? I suppose those aren't mutually exclusive states of being.

When I got to the Venetian, I saw the gnomes. OK, that's the image that came to my head, but it was the workers who came out, cleaning the street, working on touching up the front of the hotel. They were all in blue coveralls, and probably 90% Hispanic, and I knew their jobs were to disappear before the tourists would normally appear on the streets.

I experienced another surreal moment as well. I was running south, so the sun was rising to my left as I ran. Once I made it to the main Strip however, I nearly didn't see the sun; it was instead eclipsed by the Venetian, the Wynn, etc., as I made my way down an artificial canyon of artificial places. Then suddenly, the world reversed; the light and heat of the rising sun came from right, as if the world had shifted around me, or hours had passed and the sun was now setting, that golden light one can only find in the afternoon illuminating the now cleaned sidewalk before me. Then I realized it was only a reflection of the real sun, bouncing off the Trump Hotel at least half a mile from me, but projecting as if it were our own star. In but a moment, maybe a few dozen meters later, the world reverted to rightness and I left that glare. When I blinked though, the reflected sun still showed in negative in the phosphenes in my closed eye, a temporary burn on my retina.

There was one more group out there as I ran as well; the other runners. We nodded in camaraderie as we traveled through this great and terrible landscape, almost alien in our own way moving through, yet part of the surroundings which made for Vegas in the morning. Each of us was seeing the city in a way others would not. Each of us sharing an intimate glimpse behind the curtain of Vegas' wizard.

I love seeing new places this way. As I write this I am sitting in the Atlanta airport, delayed in a trip to Norfolk, Virginia. I hope the delay doesn't stop me from getting up in the morning, the one morning I will be here this week, and getting in just a couple miles, just a quick glance behind the curtains of this city as well. I will let you know...


TIME PASSES

Well, here it is, the next day, and after one of the most hellacious travel sessions I have ever had the misfortune to endure, I finally actually arrived at Fort Monroe, just across Chesapeake Bay from Norfolk. Didn't get to bed until midnight, but I knew I would be angry with myself if I didn't get up and make the effort. So, 6AM, sure enough I was up at at it.

I am so glad I did. Beautiful run through historic buildings, and a great traffic free path along the ocean. This West Coaster saw his first sunRISE over the ocean. Saw the seagulls and had a great run. Also ran around the historic moat in the middle of the Fort and stormed the battlements. Fixed everything wrong with the day before, and set the tone for the rest of the day. I mean, look at this!








Can't wait to find out what city I get to run through next. No better way to get the feel... but if in Vegas, watch for the junkies.

Crickets...

Yeah, that's the cricket you've heard chirping here on this blog, and I do apologize. Besides being busy I did have a minor setback in my running, but am recovering now. Let me serve as a warning! Work your way up in your Vibrams! When your feet have spent 37 years being used incorrectly, they don't adapt to proper running overnight. Keep in mind your calves do a lot more work when you are running barefoot style as well. So, when you get cocky and you should only be up to doing two miles in your Vibrams, and you go for three? Last year's calf injury comes back to haunt you.

So, I took it easy for a couple of weeks, but am not out doing two minutes of running and one minute of walking intervals, for 30 to 40 minutes at a time. It lets me get my running in, without aggravating the healing process. In about a week or so, maybe two, I should be back to a normal 5k. Getting recovered before I play the Vibram card again though, and keeping it realistic.

I did get new running shoes! Nike is now making a version of the Free specifically for runners; the “Runfree.” Yes, they lured me in, but they are incredibly light and flexible, and are further transitioning me toward the minimalist run. I love them. And, they have the pocket for my Nike+ sensor.

Eightball is still out running with me, though with summer coming to the great state of Arizona we have to start early or his black coat makes him too hot. It's funny, whenever he can, he runs where my shadow falls so he can be in the shade. He loves it though, especially the come home a crash out part after.

Once the recovery kicks in, I am ready to start a new training program, one based on time rather than distance. Details as I decide on a specific plan, but thanks to Jim and Eric for the heads up.

That's all for now, hopefully I won't be a month or two before the next update. School's keeping me busy though. I also noticed I get awfully cranky when I don't run. Makes me feel at peace. See you on the trail...

Philadelphia Story

I had the great fortune to spend two weeks in Philadelphia. Wonderful city, and if you stick to the University of Pennsylvania and City Center areas, a runner's paradise. Early on I went looking, and started running the trail which follows the Schuylkill River (I am told that's pronounced “SHOO-kull). This path runs along a row of historic buildings and statues, past the UPenn “boat house” where their crew teams practice, next to the Museum of Natural History, and gives a great view of the skyline. It's safe because at any given moment you are sharing the trail with dozens of walkers, runners, and cyclists, in this weird little ballet of getting in your workout without killing each other. Somehow, it all flows together, and everyone gets where they're going! It was very much like running on the island that the Wii Fit puts you on- very busy with varied terrain. Every run out there was gorgeous.



I also fulfilled a long held desire- I did the Rocky run! All through the city, and right up the Benjamin Franklin Parkway to take the steps (twice, because who knew when I would be back) and had my picture taken in front of the Rocky statue.

It was weird, because it felt like a culminating event. Like I was at the end of my own montage of training which played through my head for the whole run. I feel like it's time for a new chapter in my running, and I am as curious as anyone to see what that will be!




I also learned what it's like to bond through running. I have mentioned my buddy Jim here (and I hope he doesn't mind if I post his picture). He's been a runner for a long time, and I scoffed about it to myself quite a bit. To myself, because though I have known Jim for over a decade, we'd never met. We started reading each other's G.I. Joe stories on some long dead fansite, and he sent me an email. We got to talking, and just never quite stopped doing it. Since then we've gifted each other's kids, and he gets the yearly “State of the Fosters” Christmas card, while we get the yearly “Jim's family's getting their tree” card. However, we never met face to face, or even talked on the phone.



Jim, it turns out, lives right outside Philly. So, we made the time and I took a train out to a beautiful suburb and for the first time we met. And do you know what we did? We ran together. Now, I slowed him down something awful, and he kicked my ass most of our run, but we did a little over four and a half miles while I weezed through wonderful geek talk about Star Trek, Battlestar Galactica, and of course, G.I. Joe. Then we had a great cheesesteak, and I kept his wonderful family (and delightfully tolerant wife Bridget!) up late swapping stories. Great people and a great time. See, I will admit now, I was a little nervous. People can be different than they are in email and that goes for me too!

(Ask my Uncle Lou, oy vey what a story...)







What if they thought I was a jerk in person? We had that run though, and through it, we were talking like the old friends we really were. Can't wait to get him out Arizona way to do some coyote dodging runs!

So, Philly has been great. New runs, new friends, new chapters in the life of the Running Dan.
Now, I need to go get some new shoes. My faithful Nikes are about to give up the ghost. I will keep you posted...

Gonna fly now!

So Dan, how's the running going?

Oh, I hear it in your voice- “I bet Dan's all done with running now that he did that marathon. The dream is over, the goal is reached, he's kicked back on the couch eating Cheetos...”

No.

Actually, the running is going great. I did take about a week and a half to slow down and recover, but then, and believe me I am surprised as well, I was right back out there. Still doing about twenty miles a week actually, though I am a lot more laid back about it. Which is great.

I've run in Vibrams: Here's the first report- did you know sidewalk is harder than pavement? Did about a mile in the Vibrams with Eightball, and was sore for days! Felt like I had worked my calves hard at the gym, and the feet felt a lot of impact. However, later on (and more on that story soon) I ran on an asphalt path in them, and nowhere near the impact pain. Now I know why runners will run on the shoulder instead of the sidewalk. I suppose it's simple density. So you know; if I referred to Vibrams as a transitional shoe before, I WAS WRONG! They are barefoot running with slightly less stickers. Keep that in mind. If you are working towards proper mid-foot strike or even barefoot running, get used to your Nike Frees first, and do some field barefoot running first. Then, look for asphalt!

I've run with the dog: Doing a lot more running with Eightball, which is a lot of fun. It helps him calm down during the day as well, which is good for Jen, but it's neat to watch him trot along as well. He's even learned he can only poop on dirt and not on the path.

I've run with Jennifer: I am VERY excited to report that Jennifer, who was an avid walker and step aerobic adherent, has decided to try out a little running herself. New Nike Frees and away she goes. This last week, we went out together and it's perfect- I run in my Vibrams. So, as she's learning to run, I am too because when I am barefoot, we're at about the same level. We do a good run-walk. I hope she enjoyed it as much as I did, and I am looking forward to more in the future.

So, true believers, there you have it. I am not off the path yet, and indeed still really enjoying it. Looking at a 10K at the end of this month, trying to find a half marathon later this year, and probably gonna try the Lost Dutchman again next year. If you've been thinking about running more, do it. Remember:

-The first step is the hardest.
-Run at your own pace and distance.
-If you're not enjoying it, you're doing it wrong.
-Run for no one but yourself.

Hopefully you will hear from me again soon, and we'll see what other shenanigans running has delivered unto me!

Week 16- The Lost Dutchman Marathon

Here I am in the day after my attempt to run the Lost Dutchman Marathon. Long story short? Success! But like the run, the story isn't short at all...

I didn't finish as quickly as I was hoping to, but I think I learned a lot about racing doing my first marathon. It's vastly different getting out and doing a race than it is doing even equivalent distances on your own. Here's some of the things I learned this race:

1) Keep at your own pace- I spent a good chunk of the run alongside a Bureau of Land Management lawyer from Alaska. Forty degrees was warm to him, so he ran shirtless. I dubbed him “Steve the Alaskan Human Beacon” because this cat was whiter than Liquid Paper. This was his fourth marathon, but the first after a knee surgery he went through last year. He was not a lot faster than me, but meeting his pace made me burn more energy sooner than I anticipated. I knew I should have stayed between 10:00 and 10:30 per mile- but with Steve (later Greasy Stevie when he had to slather on some vaseline because his arms were chaffing his iridescent bare torso) I was running mile seven to about mile fourteen closer to 9:30 or better. Not significant in the short term, but a thirty minute difference across a race. This really came into play at mile 23 when I hit the wall...


2) Everybody runs marathons- Besides Greasy Stevie, I also met a 16 year old boy in Vibram Five Fingers, ready to do his first full marathon after several halves over the last three years. I met a 38 year old mother of two running her second marathon, and she was no petite flower (though super friendly). I met and conversed with a man from Moscow who must have been pushing 80, along with his wife. Yeah, they were going to jog/walk, but they came from Moscow, and they were 80! There were the real runners out there, like you would see in Runner's World magazine, but then there were lots of everyday people who just enjoy running, and wanted the challenge. We all had an instant rapport because we were going to share in this madness, and we weren't athletes, we were just runners. My thought is this; if I can get passed by 50 year old women, while I'm passing 20 year old men, ANYONE can run a marathon. It's just doing it for the love of the run, and doing it for yourself and no one else.


3) Doing a race is significantly different than your training runs- Even when you're not competing with anyone else, there are so many other factors in the race. First of all, on long runs, I like to zone out. The pain fades away, the mind wanders, and I'll find myself suddenly coming back into consciousness several miles later. Not in the marathon. There are too many other runners around you. Too many spectators. Water points every couple of miles. There's no zone. I was completely present for every moment of my race, from the delightful six mile downhill start, through the middle section with Greasy Stevie, to when at mile 23 I hit the wall. Kept going, but it was a hell of a challenge, and I would love to have just taken a little mental vacation for a few!


4) The Bonk wears clown shoes- Having hit the wall at mile 23, I kept plugging along, slowly, wishing for the energy I expended back between miles seven and fourteen. It was then, while I was slowing in my hunt for 26.2 the Bonk came out to play. I could hear it behind me, and I swear it was chasing me in big floppy shoes, slapping the ground behind me and getting closer. I learned from Orpheus and Calliope though- don't look back. Keep moving on. He came close, close enough to whisper in my ear that I'd already gone further than ever before, why not just walk the rest? And indeed, that may have been what truly brought me to the wall in the first place...


5) Pee early- I had the slight urge starting about mile six, but it wasn't a big deal, because at that point I'm using fluid at a faster rate than I'm putting it in, so the pressure is not becoming more urgent. For some reason though, about mile 21 I decided (likely precipitated by actually seeing an open porta-jon!) I needed to relive my bladder. Now, I walk any water point I go through. It helps with the water drinking, and give your muscles a slight reprieve for a minute or so. To urinate however, I had to stop. When I did, I started getting post run ache. When I did start again, it was tough to convince the body to keep going. Those next two miles led me right to the wall.


6) I want to do it again- Not unlike childbirth (or so I am told) as much pain as you know you are in as it is going on, for some reason within a relatively short time afterwards, you start planning your next one. Perhaps it's just to apply these lessons I have learned to see if I can do better. Suddenly I am competing- I have my own score to beat.

So, in the end I didn't get the time I was hoping for (I wanted around 4:30, but instead chip timed at 4:41:43) but finished 319 out of 600 entrants, in a race where only 471 finished. However, I ran a marathon, and the day after I am not crippled and lame, but rather looking forward to doing it again in the future.

I also want to point out the Lovely Jennifer, in order to kill time while waiting for me to drag myself across the finish line, entered the 8K trail run, and scored a 1:11 without training up. Then she came home and bought new running shoes... maybe soon I will be running with more than just Eightball?

This site may not get weekly updates, though I assure you I am going to keep running. I will keep you posted on my Vibram experiences as I start training with those, and looking around for other races to do. I want to at least knock out a half marathon this year, if not another full. Always have the Bisbee 1000 too. Look for me out there, because from now on, I'm the Running Dan.

Care to join me?

(Here's some pictures from the races...)



This one and the next one were of the trail Jennifer did- it was lovely up there, but warm as the day got on. Over 70 degrees by the time I rolled in.




This is me, visible on the horizon. Note shirtless Greasy Stevie on the left, cheering me on. He came in about 4:30.



Sporting Starfleet Blue, I hit the finish line- a victory for out of shape Trekkies everywhere...

PS- in a strange twist of fate, I ran my marathon on February 14th: Simon Pegg's Birthday. You may remember him as the star of "Run Fatboy Run" discussed previously in this blog. I could hear him in my head occasionally from Star Trek too... "I'm givin' her all she's got, Captain!"

One week to go...

Well folks, not a whole heck of a lot to report this week- except that I am now a week from the race! That's right, True Believers, it all comes down to next Sunday up in Apache Junction (the pic above is from last year's Lost Dutchman Marathon) where we find out of all this training has truly turned me into a Marathon Man.

My biggest fight right now is with my body wanting to run more. I had gotten pretty used to doing between 30 and 40 miles a week, and in these last two weeks of scaling back I am bouncing between running much faster than I should because it is so many less miles, or occasionally tagging on an extra mile when I shouldn't. I will tell you this though- training since October, and getting as high as 20 miles in a run, the first three are still the hardest. My body still looks at me like I am an idiot for three miles, and then finally hits pace and lets me go. Then I feel great. Why? Maybe it takes me that long to warm up at a 9:30 to 10:00 pace, maybe it's the last vestiges of the non-running Dan; regardless, those first three suck and then 3-15 are just fine. I start to ache around the 16-18 mark, but it's a good ache, not injury. So long as I can keep hydrated and fueled (hello icky vanilla bean flavored gel packs!) I should be just fine.

In other quick news, I finally got my Vibram Five Fingers, so perhaps there will be a new series of entries on this blog post marathon as I start training toward barefoot. Kind of excited about it, but we will see where it goes. Is there a lot of hype in the whole current move toward barefoot? Sure, bit on the other hand, there's some good science and stats to suggest it's a lot better for you too. It would be pretty cool to keep up this running thing with less chance of having to stop for injury.

As it stands though, the next post you see here will either be full of glory or regret; I'm pretty curious how it all turns out myself. See you in a week 26.2, you better be running.

Week 14- Take it Slowly

Well, following last week's rather abysmal showing on the weekend, I was back on track this week. Tuesday was a good solid five miler and went by just fine. Then came Wednesday, and my eight seemed to float by without even tight legs. Thursday, I was going to do four with Eightball, but he and I were in the mood, so we did five. THen came the weekend. "No problem," I said to myself, "It's only 12."

Then I had to stop and think about what my self had just heard myself say.

Only twelve.

Only twelve.

Only twelve!

Simple fact was, one mile short of the half-marathon didn't register as a really long run anymore. And sure enough, when I got out there to do it, I knocked out the first six a full minute per mile faster than my average. Then I scooped up Eightball, and we did the next six together. So sure- four minute break in the middle while I was leashing the dog, but nothing significant to break up the mileage. Meanwhile, in this whole run, I didn't stop for calories or gel- I didn't even get thirsty. Had to give Eightball half my water bottle, but I was good.

Maybe I'm not doing it right, but I am feeling really comfortable with distance now, and I am now two weeks from the race. I know I'm supposed to taper off now and let the body rest up for the big run... but gosh, I really do want to run more. My body's really gotten used to it.

Dear God- I've actually become a runner.

Not sure how I'm going to get through the next two weeks building up to the race.

Week 13- Listen to your Body

I should have known something freaky would happen in week 13. First of all, winter finally arrived in Arizona. It spent the first few days acting like an Angry Washington though- cold rain, high winds, cold temps. I was diligent though, and went out to do my runs. Wrapped up to keep dry, I found the rain really didn't bother me, but I also found the odd phenomenon of wind direction.

I would be running into the wind- which is awful by the way, and I have realized my least favorite thing about running- and my path would allow me to turn around, be it a loop, or rounding a corner etc. Expecting to now have my dreaded windy foe at my back... it would still be in my face. I do not understand how wind can blow in opposite directions simultaneously. Grrr, arrgh.

That however was not my real problem this week. My real problem this week came Tuesday morning before I even braved the elements when The Daughter said, "Dad, I have a sore throat." I was doomed.

By Saturday, I had not only the sore throat, but the stuffy head and the frequent trips to the Euphemism Room (I don't think I need to explore that facet any further). So, my soul is telling me to get out and run anyway- I had 16-18 scheduled for the weekend. The body is using the bathroom and large amounts of phlegm to tell me otherwise. So, the brain has to step in and moderate.

The Body likes to complain you see. While the Soul is yelling "run, run," the Body likes to make excuses up not to. "I'm tired," "my ankle is touchy," and "You hate running, remember?" among them. The Brain has to come in and cast judgment, and nine times out of ten finds in favor of the soul ("You don't really hurt that badly, keep running"). This time though, the Brain found the body had a point.

So that was this week's lesson. In order to get over this crud so I can keep running, I had to lay off to rest up. I will see how Tuesday feels, and if not, I will wait until Wednesday. Luckily I am in my taper time, where you start backing off to let all your muscles heal up before the big race. I don't want to lose momentum though, and I don't want to be still hacking up lung butter the day of the race. Ah, the delicate balance that is winter running.

You win this time body- but you still have that 26.2 waiting out there. Quit complaining...

Week 12- Hunting the Wall

Simon Pegg finds The Wall in “Run Fatboy Run.”

I knew this was going to be a telling week for me. As you may recall, to get my training schedule to line up with the actual Marathon, I had to drop a couple of weeks, and those weeks were ones which enabled a bit more rest as I get up into the real miles. That meant less recovery now, to ensure I can “taper” toward the end. That's when you do shorter runs to make sure your muscles are conditioned, but also healed up in time to devote all you can to the race.

Started this week by splitting up one of my runs. I typically don't run on Mondays, but I was feeling the itch, and Eightball wanted to run, so we went out and did three miles, then I ran two miles with co-workers on Tuesday. I took that opportunity to calibrate my Nike+ sensor as well, which I think is still measuring me a little short (more on that later).

Wednesday was a ten miler in the morning, and I thought I was in trouble. It was early, and obviously still dark. My path though was going to be along streets, so I didn't wear a light since I would be running under streetlights, right? No- the city of Sierra Vista is far more sporadic in their placement of lights than I would have thought. Having survived two other areas of running in pitch dark, at about mile 8.5, the sidewalk suddenly dropped into a drainage ditch- without warning, my right leg didn't find the ground until it had dropped about six inches more than it should. I felt everything wrench, and thought sure I had just re-aggravated every back pain I had ever had. Carefully continuing, everything seemed OK though, and I finished up. Had a few more aches during the day, but nothing too awful.

Kept it at three Thursday with an early morning jaunt with Eightball. He is getting better and better at running along without stopping to remark light poles and weeds. Every now and then we still have a little bit of jerking me out of my stride. It was funny though- we approached a hydrant, the much clichéd urinary target of male dogs everywhere, and I stopped in expectation. He instead gave it a look nearly identical to the one Clark Kent gives the half-phonebooth in “Superman: The Movie” and moved on. Oh, that Eightball- always keeps me guessing.

Then came Saturday. The big one. The schedule said 18 miles. That's not all though- when I ran with my running partner last week, he had mentioned “the Bonk.” See, there's “The Wall” which is when your body WANTS to give up, but you can knuckle down and keep moving. A “Bonk” is different. You're done- your body gives out and there's no way through. You just stop running. So, since he'd mentioned it, it's been floating in the back of my mind, like the demon the old X-Plane pilots used to think lived in the sound barrier, waiting to strike you when you were unaware. If the Bonk was going to find me, it was going to find me on my 18 mile run.

So, out I went. With every step though, I got a little bolder. I felt really good. That's when it occurred to me- my training had gone really well. I'd slowed down on long runs here and there, but I hadn't really even hit the Wall. Those fantasies of me and the wolf chasing the gazelle popped into my head, and I got mad. I was going to go hunting all right- I was going to go hunting the Wall.

I didn't turn around at the nine mile point, I kept going. I finally turned around a little over ten, and started back. At least I think it was 10- at one point I compared my sensor with a mile marker on the Highway. My sensor only gave me .9 miles to the full. That meant I was likely even further... I do love the Nike sensor, but that little margin of error, fine in shorter distances, can really add up. If it was consistently off by .1, that meant an extra mile of real distance at 10. More on this later too.

So, having turned around, I was heading back. I reached a point, about a 13 mile mark, where staying the course was going to bring me in about 20. I took a left. I was feeling good, and started to play with the idea of doing a full 26. I was looking for that wall, and though I was feeling the burn, I wasn't burning out. I was however getting low on water. Then about mile 15, I saw a park with a water fountain! All I had to do was refill my bottle, and I would be unstoppable! Huzzah!

For the second time this week, the city of Sierra Vista failed me. A nice little park, pleasant fields- the water was turned off. Not wanting to be stupid, I turned toward home, still wondering if I would find the Wall along the way. Keep in mind- even heading toward home, I was still across town.

In the end, I reached my street, and Nike+ told me I had done 19 and a half miles. That definitely means 20, and again, if the loss was consistent, potentially closer to 22. I never did find that Wall, and the Bonk is still out there waiting, but you know what else is out there, and not too far away?

Twenty-six point two.

You are my gazelle, twenty-six point two, and I am coming for you. The Wall can't save you now.

(By the way, the above picture is as it says from “Run Fatboy Run” which is a delightful movie about a slob who decides to do a Marathon to prove his love to the woman he left at the Altar. As with pretty much any Simon Pegg movie, I highly recommend it!)

Turning it up to 11

Thank you Nigel.

Indeed, here we are at week 11, and it was a good week on the road to 26.2. First of all, on Tuesday I played around with some more barefoot running, doing ¾ mile on astroturf sans zapatos, and then did another ¼ mile on the actual hard rubber track. I even sprinted at the end. I tried on and then ordered some Vibram 5 Fingers this week, and think I have come to the decision to focus on seriously building my barefoot run after the marathon. I'll keep you all posted on that.

Wednesday was a good eight miler, but I thought my new Nike+ was hitting blind spots. After my long weekend run though, I think I know what's really going on. See, the Nike+ really just works on a gyro in the sensor- no map or GPS data at all. When you buy it, there's an option to calibrate it, but it says it works for most people. In my test runs it seemed pretty good so I didn't calibrate. I realize now it is slightly off, and what's happening is that small disparity gets exponentially bigger with longer distances. Anything under four is not enough of a loss to be noticeable- eight was nearly a half mile off, and Saturday's long run was over a mile off. Not a big deal, I just need to calibrate it this week. Though, there may be something to be said for thinking I only ran a shorter distance when I really did a longer...

Thursday was neat. Ran two miles with someone from work in the afternoon, then came home and did two and a half miles with Eightball. Did some more sprinting with him, but found out he gets tired around two if I let him do that too much. He too needs to learn to pace himself for distance runs. Plus, we at times have to stop and pick up poo. (Told you I would.)

On the weekend, I was back with my triathlete mentor from week five. As always I end up doing a faster pace with him, but we cut a mean 17 in 2:35. Now, Nike+ read me at 15.7, but the $600 GPS the people who do triathlons feel they need put us near 17. Either way, though it was work at the end, I came out of it with only a little soreness, and feel pretty good the next day. Again, these runs seem to go faster with a partner to talk to. He also mentioned that with the type of miles I am doing weekly, I can drink four pints of Guinness a week completely guilt free- my body will absorb the carbs like a sponge. If someone had told me that ten years ago, I'd be Jesse Owens by now.

Did some tweaking on my training schedule. The Higdon plan I have been following is 18 weeks long, and my race actually falls in week 16. I want to make sure I have a couple of weeks taper before the big run (that's the slowdown that lets your body recover before it all counts). Therefore, I am going for 18 miles this coming Saturday, and 20 the weekend after that. It's going to be a little more of a challenge, but I am feeling up to it. The injuries are quiet, the feet are behaving, and the vibe is good. Lost Dutchman Marathon, here I come!

Now, pardon me while I finish off this Guinness. Yep, that's a good vibe all right...

Primal urges in Week 10.

The prey is fast, but only in short bursts. The primitive man runs along behind the gazelle, following relentlessly, knowing he only has to hold out. The gazelle is away from its herd; it can't circle back, and makes the mistake of continuing to sprint away from the man, then stop to see if he follows.

He does.

He is not alone though. There is also the wolf- the one who had crept quietly into the light of the fire one night, hungry and drawn by the smell of cooking meat. It stayed with the man and his family, and would now help the man when he hunted- driving the prey forward as the man kept his pace. The wolf did not understand how the man did it, but if he just ran alongside they would eat. The wolf began to creep ahead, increasing its pace.

The growl from the man held it back. The wolf stayed with him. Again the gazelle stopped, looking to see if the pursuing pair were gone.

Inexorably, step after step, they continued.

They just had to run far enough. The gazelle would eventually tire. Yes- the gazelle was faster than both of them at a dead run, but over a distance? Over a distance the man and wolf would run the gazelle to death.

Just a few more miles...

Yeah. I admit it. That was the fantasy running through my head this week when I would run with my dog Eightball. He's not on the huge runs with me yet, but we're doing about three miles together now, and he seems to really love it. He's not always as disciplined a running partner as I would like...! He is learning though.

Now, the scenario above may not be fantasy at all. Professor Daniel Lieberman proposes that running is what keyed human evolution, and it was the primary advantage for we land primates to catch protein when we hadn't yet created the spear. OK- the wolf part may be fantasy, but it's my head, right? I just find it a fascinating idea that the human machine really was built for running, and that there may be a very specific reason our marathons are around 26 miles (the average distance at which a gazelle or similar bovidae would become too weak to escape and fall).

So how did we cavemen do this week? Good actually! You may recall I was worried about an injury last week in my shin. I really toyed with taking the week off, but dagnabbit, I really wanted to run! So I did add one extra day, so instead of my mid week runs being T/W/T, I started Wednesday. Did a nice easy one on Wednesday to test the waters, and then seven miles New Years Eve. On New Years Day, I ran with the dog AND the Boy (during which he learned several months of computer games and a desk job are not good for your run), but then held out for Sunday for the next big one. Started out about eight in the morning Sunday (Eightball stayed with the lovely Jennifer) and did 15 miles.

Yes, it hurt. Not injury hurt though- didn't feel that at all (though pressing the gas pedal tries to tweak it- looks like I will be picking a speed and holding it!). Instead, it was the heartily earned aches that go with a good run. Did 15 miles, and it was a good run. Next day, still feel that I worked them, but I'm not hobbled at all.

Makes Kor want to look for those Gazelles...