Not done yet...

This blog has been quiet because I have not been running nearly enough. Between school, work, and... well, school and work mostly, I have not been out on the pavement nearly enough. Then of course there was the sinus infection, and that led to, and I kid you not, SNEEZING A RIB OUT OF JOINT. I didn't even know that was possible, but sure enough it is. In case you are wondering, it hurts like hell.

I tell you this though: I am coming back. I am down to one class until I finish my Masters, and I have now run regularly for two weeks, including one of my fastest 10Ks last Saturday. You all know though, I am not in it for speed, I just want to run.

So, not much of an update here. I don't have an event in mind for which I am training (though I should choose something). I don't know that I will have any great epiphany about running that I didn't have before. But watch this space. The Running Dan is back, Eightball often at my side, the Bonk's clown shoes clomping behind but never catching up. It's time to run again.

Who's with me?

For Better and For Worse

So, it is finished! My second marathon, the Lost Dutchman 2011 is now behind me, and as you will see below, I have my second finishers' medal! So, how did I do?

Well, better and worse. Let me tell you up front, I did about a minute slower than I did last year. I can tell you this though: I did much better this year. How can this all be true?

Last year, the weather was simply wonderful: clear, still, just perfect. Go back and read last year though, and you will see those last six miles were hell. I stopped to walk every water point, and crossed that finish line by pure will alone. I expected the same this time.

Instead, I learned how to properly fuel, and felt really good at the end. Took down one GU gel an hour, and drove on. In fact, I skipped the water point at the 20, and after 22, didn't stop at all. I hit 22 at 3:52, and was moving at a 9:30 pace. It was awesome! I slugged down my 22 mile water and drove on. At mile 23, then there's a turn...

Into a 10-15 MPH head wind. I mean, it was rough. Most people around me walked instead, I kept running. Slow but steady, I kept moving. Three miles into the wind, and the last mile in the rain. It slowed me down, and so I came in 4:42:53, a minute slower than last year, but so much stronger. I didn't have that post race starvation either, because I was properly fueled. Initially I intended to make this my last one for a while. Now though, I need to see how that weather will be next year... I can do better!

Now the sad news. The lovely Jennifer was going to come do the half-marathon this year, but the flu got her. She is still all set up to do the Bataan memorial ruck march next month though, I bet she's going to knock it out of the park!

Now, enjoy some pics! (Thanks to Action Sport Images for the two of 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!"

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...

Week eight- This is a Fluke...

What is not a fluke however is the fact I managed to do another 13+ run on Saturday! Now, in the interest of full disclosure let me also mention it hurt like hell.

We'll get back to that though. As the week started, I again wanted to avoid the early morning cold, so I did my Tuesday run in the afternoon on a track. Though the track part itself is not the most scenic of run paths, the path encircles a brand new astroturf field. I mentioned last week I had done a little bit of barefoot on it, and this week, I did a bit more. I noticed when my feet started getting used to it, my toes splay like little antennas looking for the best way to land. Then, when I was done and put my shoes back on, it was like my feet could feel every thread and seam in my socks. I really want to do more of this in the coming weeks.

On Wednesday I did get up early and did six miles. Good steady run, no major issues or epiphanies to report. I was a bum on Thursday and allowed events to overcome running that day, but also wanted to rest up a bit before the big run I had planned for Saturday.

Those of you who are familiar with Sierra Vista- my usual running area is the loop formed from Buffalo Soldier Trail, Avenida Cochise (by the sMall) and Highway 92. Starting near Coronado and Avenida Cochise, most of it has a really nice multi-use path around it, and a full loop is just a smidge over six miles. I have worked out little addendums (most of which you can find charted on www.mapmyrun.com under username fb.DaniF.734) to get the odd distances. Last week, My 13+ was a six mile loop with the seven mile loop and little loop combo. This week, I decided I wasn't going to go over the same ground twice.

Starting at Gas City on Buffalo Soldier Trail, I circled Sierra Vista (BST to 92, 92 to the Fry/92/90 intersection, up the bypass to the East Gate of Fort Huachuca, then back down BST to Gas City). According to the aforementioned Map My Run site, that's 13.44 miles. What the site didn't tell me is that it's a tough damn route!

I've obviously driven all these roads, but in the safety and convenience of a lovely car like Helena, you don't notice certain hills, or which way the wind blows, or where there are shoulders on the road or not. You just drive. Running means a lot more interaction with your surroundings, and in many ways that is good, and I never got bored on this run, but a lot of these factors slowed me down. Also, by the time I hit the Fry/BST intersection by the Main Gate, my legs were extremely angry with me. We persisted though, and finished up (though they aren't really speaking to me in anything right now other than sharp wincing pain), but my pace was much slower than I usually run- My long runs have been consistently between a 9:30 and 9:50 mile pace, but this one was 10:18.

So I felt a bit of a setback, until the little voice in my head I attribute to God (who always speaks in Johnny Cash's voice) said, “Hey dumbass, you just did two half-marathons in a week's time and you can still walk.” Johnny had a point.

When I started this little venture, I didn't believe I would quite be ready for a half-Marathon by the end of the full schedule. Yet by week eight, I have done two of them. Something funny I did notice; the zombie-like out of breath pain-filled state of being I was in at mile 11 Saturday, I used to hit at mile three. Anyone reading this who's shared time with me in Our Firm will remember Foster the non-runner. Right now, the non-runner is gone.

That's something I want to make sure isn't a fluke...

The Golden Pace

Pictured above is the "Golden Ratio" which is apparently God's little blueprint for creating things (1.618 or 2 to 3 to 5). This particular blog post has little to do with the Golden Ratio, but I was looking for signs of that perfect thing... because I came really close to finding it this week.

My runs during this, week seven, were pretty good. Due to inclement weather on Tuesday, I saved my week starter until the afternoon, which was pretty pleasant. I was also at a track with astroturf, so I ran a bit on there barefoot- much more foot friendly than my ill-fated tryst with barefoot running on a treadmill. Now, then I got up the next morning and did six miles, only about 12 hours later, and the legs felt tired, but I kept through. Thursday, I also ran in the afternoon, and was looking forward to Saturday, which was to be a 12 miler- the longest I would have ever run.

Saturday morning was clear and nice, so out I set. My first three miles felt kind of blah- not bad, just not in the groove. Then, during mile four, I found it- I found the Golden Pace. Don't ask me what the difference was, but for the next 8 miles, my feet and legs were perfectly comfortable, my breathing was relaxed, my mind was thoughtful, and I kept feeling like I was just floating down a river. Seriously, it was damn near transcendental. As I went up my last hill, the legs got a little tired again, but nothing too bad. So I kept going. Instead of 12, I did 13.1; the length of a half-marathon. Now, I won't do a real half-marathon until February as you recall, but I know for sure I can, and my time was about two hours and seven minutes- no world's records certainly, but for a guy who wouldn't run more than three without being chased by pitchfork wielding villagers, I felt pretty good.

And today, the day after, I feel pretty good. We'll see how my two day burn feels tomorrow, but I think all this running is starting to add up- see? Math, now my Golden Ratio allegory works.

Did learn another lesson this week though- always trim your toenails before a long run. The ring toe (well, what else do you call it? It's the one by the pinkie) on my left foot decided to get all Ted Bundy on my middle toe, and in my euphoria I didn't notice until I pulled off my sock and had a momentary urge to call CSI: Sierra Vista in. Looked worse than it was though, and next week proper grooming will precede all long runs.

I hope it's still Golden...

Like a Buddy Cop Movie...

It's very possible I learned a life lesson running this week. It's kind of a foo-foo lesson, and one you'd likely hear on Sesame Street, but the Children's Television Workshop may be right.

As I have engaged in my little bout of self discovery through distance running, the point has always been I am racing no one but myself. How do I see myself when running?





But for the first time since starting this madness, I set out to do my Saturday long run with someone. This person shall remain nameless so as to protect his reputation from being associated with the likes of me, however this is someone who does this stuff a lot. Triathlon competitor, done a couple Marathons, in ridiculously good shape. He deigned to go out running with my slow ass.

I did warn him- I've been running between a 9:30 and 10:00 mile average for anything over five miles. One of my mantras has been to relax and run. I told him he would likely be bored with how slow we were moving. He made a very good point back to me- we were preparing to run 10 miles. How many people did we know who would run ten miles at ANY pace? We have a pretty physically oriented firm for which we work, and yet, the usual run is about speed, and rarely about endurance. Endurance is the great equalizer in running. An interesting side note is the fact that women in sprints have never been able to get close to men in comparable shape. However, the longer the race gets, the more competitive the genders get. Women are as likely to win an Ultra-Marathon (50 or more miles) as any male competitor. Take for instance Jenn Shelton:



Runs Ultras all the time and apparently drinks tequila like it's water. Amen.

So anyway, I set out with a running partner, who as someone far more professional at this than I, had all the right gear, including this spiffy little gizmo which told us exactly how far we had run at any given moment, our pace, and his heart rate. (Let me also point out that it beeped when his heart rate went under 120- and it beeped often at my pace.) As we cruised along though, we chatted, and he kept pointing out we were making good time. In the end, we did a little more than we planned- 11.2 miles, and we did it in 1:37. This is odd, because we actually hit the ten mile mark at the time I had previously done the nine miler.

Now, my legs did complain a bit after, but with someone to work off of, to pace with, and even just to converse with while running, it went by faster, and if you were watching, I went by faster.

So perhaps there's a CTW moral to the story- two heads (or sets of legs) are better than one. Sure, I am only competing with myself, but that doesn't mean I can't bring someone along. Maybe now I should see my running self like this:




When preparing this, I went looking for the Lone Ranger to put up top in the "loner" part, but I always found him with Tonto. Obviously, he's already learned this lesson.