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...