We Don't Take Shortcuts

I was out in Central Park for a long run the other morning. In the sport of distance running, adjectives that pertain to distances and speeds are all relative, so let me clarify. I’m training for a 50 mile race this summer, and have been very diligent in changing my definitions of short, medium, and long. These days, a short run (which I try not to ever do) is anything under about 9 or 10 miles. A medium distance run is something in the neighborhood of 10 to 15 miles, and a long run everything else.  For this particular long run, I set out the door aiming for anything above 20 miles.

On that particular morning, the crispness of the onset of Spring was in the air. There was just enough humidity and warmth in the air to draw out people in short sleeves, but still enough coolness to partner them with a fair amount of those in tights and jackets. As a runner, this is the perfect climate for a long run; cold enough to not be inhibiting in any way, but warm enough to enjoy being outside with the hope of better things to come that is embodied in the first few days of Spring. Crisp air, brightened sun, and a few bold flowers blooming early.

The patrons of Central Park shared my enthusiasm for the changing season, as they were out in full force. A busy day in Central Park is a unique setting; one where the tether of the real world has been severed in a peaceful scene of serenity, all the while being besieged by the largest and most vibrant metropolis in this hemisphere. It’s a fleeting escape from reality, but a functional one. Additionally, it’s the only piece of nature accessible by the millions of residents of Manhattan, and as such, the main loop around the park is more like a circulatory system of runners, walkers, and bikers than it is a running path.

It was into this atmosphere that I set out for my big run of the week. But getting to this point wasn’t a short path. Since my last long run just 6 days ago, I’d put in close to 55 miles of work. I’ve gotten to the point in my training plan where I really don’t want easy days anymore. When great painters were in their prime, I doubt they ever looked at any piece as just a time killer until their next great work. I don’t want to take any individual run for granted or not feel the strengthening burn that comes at the end of a difficult effort. So, as I set out on this particular long run, my legs were already burdened with the accumulated fatigue of a long series of hard working days.

As I progressed through my run with a methodical economy of movements, I felt the benefit of my months of training up to that day. Every time I stayed out on the trail for just an extra mile or 15 minutes, I was purposefully augmenting every muscle in my legs like steel hardening in the furnace. Now, 14-15-16 miles deep into a run, the task still felt as simple as ‘focus on your form, keep your good posture’. At this point, I felt I was a product of my own making (at least as far as my conditioning went).

It was then, around mile 16, that I made a spontaneous, yet critical decision. I approached a fork in the trail. Veer to the left, and I’d continue for another revolution around a 1.5 mile loop. I could do this loop a few more times then turn towards home and finish right around 20 miles and satisfy my goal. However, veer to the right, and I go down a southward spur of the trail that would take me much further from home, and commit me to many more miles. By taking this route, I’d be both accepting and subjecting myself to a hearty surplus of miles above my stated goal. I’m glad to say I veered to the right.

The instant before I chose my direction, I was apprehensive and lazy – I was content with the shorter route and coming in right at my distance goal. However, that would have been the easy way out. We, as runners, don’t take the easy way. By taking the longer route, I faced a larger obstacle, greater discomfort, and a more trying experience overall. When I finished it successfully (as we all almost always do with the right application of mental fortitude), I was a better runner for it.

We don’t take shortcuts. If we did, then why are we even running at all? That’s like cheating in solitaire – it’s pointless and self-defeating. Taking a shortcut while running is succumbing to your perceived limits, be they a 3 mile run around the neighborhood, which could have been turned into 3 and a half; or 20 milers that could be defining experiences in a training cycle with a simple and split second decision to go the long way. You save perhaps a few kilo-calories of energy and a couple of minutes, but the opportunity cost is a workout that exceeded anything you'd expected or thought possible.

Keep on movin',

-John

Running T-Shirts

I just really enjoyed some of these:

See them all from Running Times:
http://runningtimes.com/Print.aspx?articleID=21373

Racing, But Not 'Racing'

I’ve finished a fun little week that included a lot of running in races. Last Sunday, I ran the NYC Half-Marathon here in New York, and yesterday (Saturday) I ran the National Half-Marathon in Washington D.C.,. I’m keeping my training focused on the White River 50 this summer, which puts a premium on volume over speed, so I didn’t go in to these races with the feeling that I was 'trained up' properly for their requisite speed. Rather, they were just barometers of my fitness and two chances to run some interesting courses.

From the NYC Half on March 20. Do you like my Prefontaine Mustache?

Now that they are behind me, I admit I kind of enjoyed them, but am still not very fulfilled (especially considering the entry fees and travel expenses). I think this is symptomatic of my need for an explicit and well-defined goal if I’m going to commit myself to the scheduling and expense of a race of any kind. That is, I lack the ability to run races ‘just to enjoy them'. I need a reason more motivating and rewarding. (in the interests of full disclosure, I don't think I'll ever have to forfeit my amateur status and accept prize money for winning anything.)

Running with the expectation and hope of setting a new personal best is certainly motivating enough at any distance. These races present an opportunity to raise your ceiling and improve a measurement you can carry with you forever. I may gain 40 pounds and get arthritic knees someday; but I’ll always have my Marathon & Half-Marathon PBs (which I am quite proud of) to indicate to the world what I was once capable of and compare to the kids of the future.

The simplistic goal of finishing a race can be a sufficient for me under the appropriate circumstances. Any race whose length is beyond my 'comfort zone' and provides an element of fear when I think about my commitment to running that distance will qualify. I remember feeling this consternation the first time I ran a 10k, and again at each incremental distance above that. Uniquely challenging courses qualify as well. 13.1 miles doesn’t really intimidate me anymore, but 13.1 miles up a 7800’ ascent, as you traverse in the Pike’s Peak Ascent, scares the hell out of me. Finishing would be more than a worthy goal by my standards. I’ve almost found the fear I faced going into the race was proportional and fractional to the happiness I felt upon crossing the finish line; anxiety and worry were the antecedents of accomplishment and pride.

Lastly, running to help someone else is an equally worthy reason to run a race as the previous two. Nothing makes me happier than seeing people make the decision to adopt running and all the wonderful ancillary benefits it brings into their life. The first step in that journey, and maybe the hardest, is just getting started and running that first mile on a treadmill or around the block. However, the most rewarding step is the last one across the finish line of a race that seemed impossible before. If I can help someone I care about get to that last step, whether it be as a coach, friend, supporter, or motivator; then I can feel relieved that I have done a service for someone I care about. Racing this way is a means to help someone realize that many of their perceived limits are only imagined. (Important Note: this is different from running to help other people via charity. This kind of running is important and I've run for charities myself too. However, for the gesture being made as a charity runner to mean anything, it must be attached to one of these goals I've discussed. That is, the charity runner himself must be challenged by the physicality of the race. This is the sacrifice the runner makes to reciprocate the sacrifice donors make with their checkbooks. Otherwise, what's the point?) 

I want to be clear: I don’t mean this as a list of the only reasons to run in general, but just as the way I personally feel compelled take on the scheduling and pecuniary obligations of organized racing. There is nothing I love more than touring a new city via a long, easy run that lasts all morning. Conversely, there is nothing that annoys me as much as having to wake up too early so I can run a few miles amongst throngs of people in a cattle shoot for the right to pay $90 and get a t-shirt.

I guess I just enjoy the excitement and risk that comes from not knowing if I’ll achieve something hard and new at the end of the day.

Thanks for sticking with me through this post. Now, in appreciation of your patience, here's a video of a puppy trying to whistle.

-John

RIP Sally Meyerhoff

I’m late in getting to this, but that’s just because it deserved a full week’s reflection before I put pen to paper. Last Tuesday, Sally Meyerhoff was killed. While on a normal afternoon training ride, the kind I’m sure she had done a thousand times before, her bike collided with a pickup truck, ending her life instantly. Everything I've read about her over the last few years said she is vibrant, energetic, accomplished, young, and a genial & good person. Now she’s nothing in the present tense except gone.

I feel the greatest of sympathies for her family, but I've also had troubles of my own dealing with the news. I didn't know Sally personally. I used to see her running on the canal in Phoenix and Scottsdale early in the morning sometimes, and I met her briefly last year (during which time she was extremely personable and humble, and this the day before she won a big half-marathon in NYC), but that is the extent of my contact with her.

What I see in her tragic and sudden end is my own mortality. Sally was my age and was living the life I dreamed of: she was a gifted and dedicated runner who had turned it into her life's pursuit. Running was her craft, and she was good enough to make a living from it too. She was living her life through accomplishment and betterment of her self, body, and mind. I only wish I had the talent or resources to spend my ephemeral youth doing that.

Reading Sally's blog is both chilling and heartwarming by the timing of the statement she chose to make just two days before her most tragic accident:

"I cannot express how HAPPY I am with where I am in my life right now though, and how grateful I feel for being able to do what I do. I just wouldn't trade it for anything and any time I am feeling not very motivated, I think about how miserable I feel when I am not training or doing something else I don't LOVE. I totally and completely love this life I'm living and the most fabulous thing is that I know it's only going to get 20 times better by the end of the year. Woo hoo baby!"

How often do we make such proclamations, or even have the awareness of truths like this? Not often, and we're lucky when we have that type of clairvoyance. It makes me shiver to think about Sally writing these words not 48 hours before her life ended, but also gives me comfort and affirmation that she died living the life she wanted and doing the one activity she enjoyed more than any other.

I hope this is the wake-up call that makes me appreciate life for every moment, and make sure those closes to me know how special they are.

-John

I'm Just Not Ready.

I wrote this post 2 weeks ago about making the decision to run the Leadville 100; a notoriously difficult and trying race across the mountains of Colorado:

I'm going to run the Leadville Trail 100, and I'm going to do it because I can.I really don't know how to relax and enjoy myself. This is a problem I've either developed or just become aware of in the last few years, but it's not going away. I've learned that I must do something productive at all times, no matter what. Even now, I've finished all my obligations for the day, but still feel the compulsion to put my thoughts to paper so my readers (Hi Mom!) can understand why I am the dumb way I am. Sometimes my definition of 'productive' can be skewed, which creates the veneer of truancy. However, I'm always making measurable progress towards one of my personal goals. For example, it may LOOK like I'm playing Scrabble with my brother on my iPhone, but really, I'm effecting a strategy for complete psychological subjugation over him. 

Simply put, I feel not doing anything is a waste. It's a waste of time, a waste of opportunities to contribute to my community, and a waste of potential. Living a life in line with the status quo is a banal existence and abhorrent thought to me. It's wasting a life. Taking on challenges that haven't been fully conquered yet is the essence of excitement and progress. It's exploration of the character. This is the path to achievement, and achievements are really the only thing that distinguishes one person from the next. I can't learn anything about myself by staying in place and doing what virtually every other person in my place has done before. That's the way to get lost in the masses and forget that it's OK to be different. I see two choices: my achievements can reflect  99% of the population, or I can apply myself to carve a truly unique path and one that may inspire others to do the same. 

I'm lucky for several reasons. I'm alive; I'm healthy; I've never been wronged by a woman too badly; and I own the complete series of The Wire on DVD. With all that going for me, I'm free to push my perceived limits to find out where the real ones exist. Only when I know those boundaries will I be content to stop exploring and allow myself to relax a little bit. Maybe. 

That's why I'm running the Leadville 100. It's a challenge in a stratosphere somewhere between the standard commercial aviation altitude and the orbit of Saturn. Taking on that challenge will show me what kind of character I have. If I get myself to the starting line, then one of two things will happen: I will crash and burn in a splendorous flame of poor judgment and dehydration, or I'll finish the damn thing. Whether the end of the race for me comes at mile 50, 75, or 100; I'll find comfort in that knowledge and be able to concretely answer the 'How far could I..." question. Only when I know my limits can I live within them comfortably. 

The only thing more regrettable than trying and failing is failing to try.

I wrote this post about having the guts to run one of the toughest 100 mile races on the circuit in my debut at the distance, but fortunately, I procrastinated in publishing it. This turned out to be a very good thing. 

Two events happened almost immediately after I wrote this post and felt so certain about running Leadville. First, I visited the Leadville website to register. Second, I went on a ski trip to Colorado. Each of these moves taught me something about myself and the decision I thought I'd made. 

When I went online to register and become an official entrant in the 2011 contest, I felt this should just be a formality in the process of taking on the requisite burden and responsibility of a Leadville competitor. The hardest commitments would come in the form of piling on my mileage day after day, after day. Yet, this step did have tangible and symbolic significance in that it required immediate payment of a non-refundable $300 entry fee, and made official what I had previously only committed to with thoughts and "wouldn't it be great if I...." ambitions. However, when I went through the ostensibly insignificant process of actually submitting my regristration and signalling my intent to train and run the race with an actual transfer of wealth from my savings to the Leadville operating funds, I hit an obstacle that felt more insurmountable than the 12,000' peak of Hope Pass that I'd have to climb twice in the race. I couldn't make myself click the submit button to finish registration. With the addition of my name to the list of entrants and the rush of money out of my checking checking, I realized I was taking on a commitment that evoked more consternation than excitement. No matter how much I tried to focus on the positive, I could only think about the daily grind of training, followed by anxiety during taper and the final hours before the actual race. I was throwing myself headfirst into the ultimate of  unknowns, and if I felt so much trepidation about the race 6 months before it actually happened, then how would I feel come June, July, and August? I sat motionless for what seemed like an hour (but in reality was probably only a few minutes) with my right index finger suspended over the left mouse button. The arrow hovered dangerously over "Submit". A deer in headlights would have more commitment and resolve than I had at that moment. In the end, I just couldn't make myself complete the registration process.


The second fortuitous and timely event was a previously planned ski trip to Colorado. The skiing was fun and the trip was great, but the only thing that really mattered from that trip was the experience I had trying to run at 8800' in elevation (which would be about the lowest point on the Leadville course). 5 miles was about my limit, and even then only at a conservative pace. I started feeling stronger as the trip wore on and I adjusted to the thin air, but the atmosphere had made its point to me: I had grossly underestimated the physical challenge of Leadville's signature attribute: altitude.


These two lessons gave me the evidence I needed to be comfortable with a disappointing admission: I am not ready physically or mentally for this race. Regardless of how much I want to be and how hard I prepare for it, my body and my mind haven't been through enough testing and adversity to build the requisite confidence to tackle the 100 miles and thousands of feet of climbing in Leadville. This was a tough pill to take, but my experiences over the past 2 weeks have given me the perspective to be able to finally chew it and swallow.


I'm not saying I will never run a 100 miler, and I'm not saying I don't still believe everything I wrote two weeks ago about wanting to run Leadville. I just realize that this year is not the right time; just like trying to run the race tomorrow would not be the right time either: it's too soon and I'm not ready.


Thus, I've decided to run the White River 50 on July 30 instead. Stay tuned and I'll keep you posted through this blog on how my preparations go.


Thanks for sticking with this post all the way through. Now, here's you're reward: a dog being confused by an iPhone.

-John

The Boston Marathon Tea Party

Let me start by acknowledging that I am a member of the aggrieved party here. My dream was to run the Boston Marathon, and I spent the last 4 months of 2010 in dedicated and rigorous training with the solitary goal of breaking 3:10 (my age group's standard). On January 16 of this year, I raced with everything I had to post a 3:06:23 at the Rock & Roll Arizona Marathon to (seemingly) achieve my dream of a chance to run the Boston Marathon. That said, let me get to my main point:

I've started a petition to get the B.A.A. to undo their rash changes to the 2012 registration system. Please sign it after reading this post to support our cause.

The Boston Marathon is a goal and dream for most runners, but the Boston Athletic Association has made changes to effectively rip that rightfully earned dream away from a large class of runners: those already qualified for the 2012 race. Under the new rules for the 2012 race, faster runners will get the first opportunity to register, likely leaving the remaining qualifiers out in the cold. For more details, see the B.A.A.'s press release describing the changes here.

I actually think the system is a good one. It is consistent with what makes the Boston Marathon so special: it's a selective race only for the fastest marathoners. With the current mismatch in supply and demand for spots in the race, the B.A.A. felt something had to be done. The 2011 race sold out in a scant 8 hours, forcing recent qualifiers (after November 2010) to wait until the 2012 race.

Because the rules allow qualifying times to have a 2 year 'shelf life', the population of runners qualifying for and anticipating a spot in the 2012 race has already started to grow. Thousands of runners have put themselves through training and toed the line at perhaps the most important race of their careers with a single qualifying standard in mind (the standard issued by the B.A.A. for their age group). This group of runners ran their races thinking they knew the rules: just run the appropriate time, then be responsible enough to register online within a few hours of registration opening. The second objective is relatively easy, especially for disciplined runners accustomed to logging 10 miles before sunrise. However, the first obejctive is a different matter. This system was fair because of it's certainty. Running the qualifying time is the hard part, and there shouldn't be crossed fingers and wishing in the interregnum until registration opens.

Now, the rules are different. Not all qualifying times are created equal. Chances are that no spots will be left for the slowest qualifiers, and if there are spots left, they will be fought for like a loaf of bread in Bolshevik Russia.  Under normal circumstances, or races for which qualifying hasn't begun (i.e. the 2013 Boston Marathon), this is actually a mostly fair system. However, trying to rush the changes and implement this policy flatly across all divisions has some serious problems and creates legitimate victims. Here are the main flaws:

Qualifying for the 2012 race has already begun under the old rules
Many who thought they had already put themselves on equal ground with all other qualifiers for the 2012 race now find themselves relegated to fighting for the leftovers of other, faster qualifiers. For example, I qualified a month ago with a 3:06. If I had known at the time that 3:06 would be subordinated to 3:05, you can be certain I would have trained and raced differently. Implementing the new system for the 2012 race is like telling a High School Senior that his SAT score is good enough for admission to his dream school, only to raise the standard when he shows up to orientation.

The graduated registration standards aren't applied evenly
The new system differentiates runners at 20, 10, and 5 minutes under qualifying standards. However, 20 minutes under the Men's 18-34 standard (3 hours 10 minutes) is quite different from the 5+ hours many Women's age groups get, or even the 3 hours 40 minutes that Women 18-34 get. in other words, 18-34 Men have to run 10.5% faster than their qualifying time to get in the earliest registration period, while 70-74 women only have to beat their standard by 6.7%. Over 26.2 miles, this is a big difference. This will result in a field skewed more towards older women than other age groups, as proportionately more of them will have the first chance to register.

The changes may not even be necessary
Another part of the announcement said race fees will rise. This should help alleviate the supply/demand imbalance. Additionally, the 8 hour sell-out has only happened once. What's to say the rush to register for the 2011 race wasn't an aberration? Every trend has its peak; how do we know Boston Marathon participation hasn't reached its peak?

I'm not one to identify flaws in a system without proposing some ideas to compete or at least start a discussion moving towards improvement. Here are some thoughts to start the brainstorming:

Limit spots available in each registration period
If there will be 4 different times people can register, cap the first 3 windows (September 12, 14, & 16) at 5,000 runners on a first-come-first-serve basis, thus guaranteeing at least 7,000 spots to all qualifiers. This way, everyone who thought they did all they had to do to get to Boston will at least have a chance to register.

Raise the fees evenly
Marathon runners are well recognized for their disposable income. Raise the fees by an even amount for all qualifiers to get a sense for the elasticity of demand, and set the fees so demand matches the fixed supply. If someone really wants to run Boston, they can forego one new running shirt a year to pay the higher price.

Raise the fees unevenly
If you're going to treat some qualifiers inequitably, fine, but do it for something that can still be controlled. Charge slower qualifiers more. If I just missed the sub-5 minute cutoff a month ago, I can't go back in time and change the way I trained. However, I can accept that it will cost me a little more to register. That I can handle.

Do nothing
As I noted earlier, one year of immense demand doesn't make a trend. The 2012 race may sell out just as fast, but it also might not. Perhaps with the rebounding economy, people have less time to train and qualify this year than they did last year.

I want to reenforce that I fully understand and support the B.A.A.'s mission of protecting the Boston Marathon for only the fastest. In that light, I have no qualms with the faster qualifying times for the 2013 race. However, by trying to make rushed changes to the 2012 race, they are creating a class of victims that did everything right, only to have the rules changed on them after they could do anything to respond. This is unfair and unjust.

If you agree, please sign my petition urging the B.A.A. to reconsider.

-John

Sharpening My Axe

“Give me six hours to chop down a tree and I will spend the first four sharpening the axe.”

- Abraham Lincoln

I'm starting a new phase of my running career and though my axe is still pretty dull, I'd say I'm learning how to work the grinder pretty well. Right now, my only goal is to hit high weekly volumes, and I'm adjusting to the requisite lifestyle and work load nicely. 2 weeks ago, I logged 80 miles (no rest days), and backed that up with 70 miles last week (one rest day). I felt pretty haggard after the first week, but my body is developing resiliency and becoming more accustomed to the daily burden of 10 to 15 miles.

My mental acceptance of this new lifestyle is the most important part. I go out every morning for my "AM 9" - a standard run of about 9 miles or 90 minutes. I've tried to make this as much a part of my morning routine as drinking coffee and watching Saved By The Bell on TBS. It's unavoidable; it's just what I do. As soon as I finish my morning run, I try to start focusing on my afternoon run (if I feel like I have extra miles in my legs). Everything else is just waiting and resting for my next workout.

I'm still a long way away from doing any chopping, I feel great about getting my axe ready.

Summer Planning: How Much Do I Hate Myself?

I have a rare opportunity this summer which is also the terminus for a major chapter in my running career. I'm currently a graduate student in New York City and will finish school in May. I'm also fortunate enough to have a good, though demanding, job lined up to start sometime this Fall. That means I'll have more time than a normal person should have for training in the Spring; as much time as a vagrant during the summer; and less time than a political prisoner in the Fall and then after. Most of my classmates in similar positions will spend the summer traveling and seeing the world. I know myself well enough that I wouldn't be satisfied with this passive enjoyment of my Summer. Seeing isn't a worthwhile use of my time, doing is.

Thus, I have a ample block of time to do something big, and a desire to do something hard. On my 'Running Bucket List', I've made some good progress in the last few years:

• I ran what I judged as a 'perfect race' in the 2008 Rock & Roll Arizona Half Marathon
• I won my age group in another Half in 2010
• I finished a 50+ mile race in July 2010
• I qualified for the Boston Marathon 2 weeks ago at R&R AZ 2011

I'm very happy with and proud of these accomplishments; but I'm also far too young to call it a career and retire. I feel I can still add noteworthy achievements to this list. On top of that urge to do more, I'm going into these next two seasons with the assumption that I probably won't have time to adequately train for a marathon once I start my new job, let alone an Ultra. That means it's now or never for my greatest ambitions.

In figuring out what to do next, I'm trying to weigh what I want to do with what I have the desire to do. I want to do something phenomenal that makes people question my sanity and makes me smile when I reflect on the grit and heart it took to accomplish. However, I'm not sure if I have the appetite for what would be self-induced 'death by a thousand miles' that would be the requisite training. Realistically, if I want to finish one of the major trail ultras, then I'll have to train with 100-mile weeks, and I've never come close to that kind of volume.


As a trial, I spent this past week pushing myself to see what kind of volume I can handle, mentally and physically. I did 9-12 miles each morning, then tried to tack on a few extra in the afternoon just to keep from getting too 'fresh' before the next day's run. The final tally was 80 miles, and I think I emerged in decent shape. Physically, my legs are worn and my feet hurt, but nothing a rest day won't fix. Mentally, I came to accept the redundancy and routine of my 'morning 9', and was able to bounce back for more in short order. Short-term, I was fine. I just worry about the long-term toll it will take on my body and the limits of my mental stamina.

With all of those considerations, I've thought of a few possible goals. I just need to figure out which pursuit or combination of pursuits to choose. 

• Gold Coast Marathon (Gold Coast, Australia - July 2nd) - Probably the only place in the world I'd make an exception for on my 'no passive vacations' rule is Australia. I don't know why, but I feel for Australia like a sixth grade boy feels about the Playboy Mansion. I'm not entirely clear with what goes on down there, but I just gotta go check it out. The idea with this race would be try to lower my marathon PR (maybe down to 3:00), then take a few weeks to explore the land and figure out what makes Kangaroos so awesome and see what Vegemite tastes like. 
• Midnight Madness 50 Miler (Tulsa, OK - July 1st) - On the upside: I did this race last year, it's an easy course, and it's in my hometown. On the downside: I did this race last year, it's an easy course, and it's in my hometown. While the comforts of home and a flat route are nice, I think I want something more ambitious. That's not a deal breaker, though. This race is early enough that I could treat it as a training run for whatever I end up doing later in the Summer. 
• White River 50 Mile Endurance Run (Crystal Mountain, WA - July 30th) - A distance that's tolerable and a race that's respectable. WR50 would be a memorable trail experience around Mt. Rainier, and is a hard enough obstacle be worthy of 7 months of focused training. I could do this race and be happy with the way I spent my summer, and maybe with how I close the book on my Ultra career. 
• Leadville 100 Trail Run (Leadville, CO - August 21) - I could say everything I said about White River 50, and that's just on the outbound leg of this race. This one is the legend. What's more ambitious than 100 miles of trails and 13,000 feet of elevation change, all between 9,000 & 12,000 feet above sea level? And what race in the U.S. is more esteemed among runners in the know (other than Western States and Badwater)? This race offers challenge like BP oil rigs offer risk. 

It most likely comes down to a decision between White River and Leadville. White River would give me plenty of accomplishment, and wouldn't be as demanding during the prolonged period of training. Additionally, I have to wonder if my life is really incomplete if I don't run a 100 Miler? Probably not. In my mind, these are all great reasons to run White River and not subject myself to the suffering of 100 miles. On the other hand, and I can't put this any other way: White River just isn't Leadville.


I put a poll on the right sidebar. Let me know what you think I should do.


-John

States' War on Runners

From this morning's New York Times: Several states are considering legislation to BAN EARPHONES FOR PEDESTRIANS AND RUNNERS!

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/26/us/26runners.html?hp

The ubiquity of interactive devices has propelled the science of distraction — and now efforts to legislate against it — out of the car and into the exercise routine.

In New York, a bill is pending in the legislature’s transportation committee that would ban the use of mobile phones, iPods or other electronic devices while crossing streets — runners and other exercisers included. Legislation pending in Oregon would restrict bicyclists from using mobile phones and music players, and a Virginia bill would keep such riders from using a “hand-held communication device.”

This is ridiculous and counter-productive. Let people be adults and be responsible for their own safety. If you live in a state where this kind of legislation is proposed, spread the word. Help make sure lawmakers know it is ridiculous and overly constrictive.

The Humble State of Ultra Running Elites (Part 1)

This is the first of a few posts I intend to write about the humble and modest state of professional utlra-running.

Eleven days ago on January 13th, four ordinary looking guys, though maybe a little on the skinny side, walked into Sherpa's restaurant in Boulder, CO. They sat down for about an hour in a mostly-full dining room, answered questions, then went on about their lives like normal people. The fascinating thing about these men is they were anything but normal; they were perhaps the four most dominant or important ultra runners in the U.S. today: Scott Jurek, Dave Mackey, Anton Krupicka, and Geoff Roes. They answered questions on a moderated panel, then mixed with the 'common' people like normal personalities would do. Compare this to what you'd expected from the top four competitors in any other international sport right now. (I've embeded the video of the panel at the bottom of this post. Do yourself a favor and watch it, especially when Krupicka starts talking about his training at minute 24).

If you aren't a fan of the sport of 100 mile trail running, let me give you some references: Scott Jurek is the Pete Sampras of the sport (the old champ); Roes & Krupicka are the Federer & Nadal (current dominators); and Mackey would probably be a mix of Andre Agassi and Andy Roddick (he's always around and popping-up intermittently to do great things).

Just the possibility of this type of gathering is astounding to me, and the basis for a truly extraordinary story. Imagine the a meeting of the Greek Gods in the Pantheon, but replace the sandals with trail shoes and lightning bolts with water bottles. These are four 'first-ballot Hall-of-Famers', and not only could they speak to a crowd that could fit into one restaurant, but they are also training partners, friends,  and rivals.

Could this happen in any other sport? Ever? No.

In baseball, that'd be like Babe Ruth, Albert Pujols, Alex Rodriguez, and Ted Williams all taking batting practice together before hitting 2, 3, 4, & 5 for the Yankees. Williams would try to give A-Rod some pointers on his swing, but wouldn't be able to pull him away from the vanity mirror long enough.

In football, that would be Joe Montana passing to Jerry Rice (ok, that actually happened), but with Walter Payton in his backfield and Lawrence Taylor running the defense. For better or worse: we don't need to worry about any of the ultra runners being indicted for sex crimes or winning Dancing With the Stars.

The NBA comparison would be Jordan at small forward, Magic running the point, with Bill Russell and Wilt Chamberlain in the paint. I'll give credit to Michael Jordan though, if he ever decided he wanted to win a 100 miler, he'd do it or die trying. Literally.

But in Ultra Running, a sport requiring far greater physical efforts and achievements, these men, their fans, and [most importantly] their egos all fit into one room. 99.999% of the world just doesn't seem to care or even take notice. Is this right? Granted, the sport is still in a relative infancy; but I'd wish there was more respect and reverence for the knowledge and wisdom these men have to impart.

We can't force people to like a sport or become fans of certain athletes. However, we can educate them to eventually develop this appreciation. If you know about the accomplishments of these guys, spread the word. Bring them up in conversations about great athletes and their accomplishments. If you don't know who I'm talking about, then check out what they've done: Scott Jurek, Anton Krupicka, Dave Mackey, & Goeff Roes. You'll be amazed by what these men have accomplished and what they've proven the human body is capable of.

Boulder Trail Runners - Q&A with Scott Jurek, Anton Krupicka, Dave Mackey and Geoff Roes from Alpine Works on Vimeo.

R&R AZ Marathon - The Rest of the Story

Here is some more color to last Sunday's Rock & Roll Arizona Marathon that I chose to omit from my final race recap:

• My toes look like I stuck them in a cuisinart. I wore Saucony Kinvaras in the race, which I love as racing shoes. I've worn them in two marathons and one half, and feel they shaved a few minutes off my time in every instance. However, they don't protect my feet very well from the requisite trauma off such a hard effort. By my count, I had about 4 or 5 blood blisters and one completely black toenail. 
• The thing I'm most proud of is I didn't puke or have any stomach issues. This has been a problem for me before, but not this race. I believe my GI success was the product of a conservative diet the last few days before the race; especially my avoidance of my beloved Diet Dr. Pepper (I usually drink about a half gallon of this stuff a day). 
• I once tried to ask out Sally Meyerhoff, the women's champion, with a lame comment about moonlit runs without a mate. We met at a race expo for an all women's Half in New York. She was a featured racer and speaker; I was the creepy single guy at the expo for an all women's race. I actually had a legit, normal reason to be there, but the circumstances probably didn't help my chances. 
• I have no idea how I didn't bonk during the race. I only took one gel at miles 9 and 16. I guess the only thing propelling me the last several miles were my hopes and dreams. And maybe double rainbows.
• The only song I could hear in my head was 'Like A G6'. How does this motivate me to keep running? I have no idea. The song is about gangster subculture and getting drunk on bottles of Crystal:

"Poppin bottles in the ice, like a blizzard

When we drink we do it right gettin slizzard

Sippin sizzurp in my ride, like Three 6

Now I’m feelin so fly like a G6"

• My sister got a picture with  men's champion Josh Cox after the race, which made me insanely jealous. He's my favorite pro marathoner.

• My biggest concern during the race was my necessity to 'lighten the load'. It took a lot of intestinal fortitude to run by every port-a-john after mile 16. 

Rock & Roll Arizona Marathon Race Recap

It’s the day after the 2011 Rock & Roll Arizona Marathon, and I can still barely walk. My hips ache, my hamstrings are tight, and my feet feel like the bi-products of ground beef. I had significant trouble sleeping last night due to discomfort in my legs, and my digestive system is just now settling down and getting back to normal. However, if that is both the cost and ‘reward’ from three-plus hours of work and agony yesterday morning, I’ll be happy to take it.

I’ve done the half-marathon race in this event twice, but never the full. It’s a tremendously well-run event, with a huge crowd and a nice, flat course. When I was making my winter racing plans, I really felt like I was capable of making a go at a Boston Qualifying time. The 3:10 standard for my age group is well below my PR of 3:18, but I’d had a good summer of running; was starting to pick my speed up; and more important than anything else, I really had the desire and motivation to make it through the requisite training. The Rock & Roll Arizona Marathon was the perfect setting, given its timing, weather (almost always sunny with mild temps), and fast course.

When race day came, everything was just about as expected. The temperature at the start was in the low-to-mid 40’s, with just enough cloud cover to keep us out of direct sunlight. I was in corral 1, where I met Tony Stafford, the 3:10 pacer and a friend of my sister’s; and my friend Matt, who had the same BQ goal as me. The elites (including Josh Cox getting ready for his new AR in the 50k) were just in front of us, and the rest of the 5,000 runners were behind us.

Once the race started we ran at smooth 7:15 pace. The first 3 or 4 miles flew by; I could barely believe how quickly they passed and how easy they felt. That part of the course was through a quiet, commercial part of town. More importantly, it was very flat. I felt fortunate that I could make it through this first fraction with minimal damage, and started preparing myself mentally for the long haul.

Mile 6 brought the first feelings of ‘work’ in my legs. The pace didn’t feel hard or challenging, just no longer easy. I concentrated on not letting foreboding thoughts about the next 20 miles poison my attitude. At about this time, the route started working its way west through Phoenix, giving me the visual goal of Camelback Mountain; or something on the horizon to pull myself towards for the next few miles.

The 3:10 pace group hit the halfway mark in 1:32, or about 3 minutes ahead of an even split time. It felt good to have a few minutes ‘in the bank’, but I could really start to feel the accumulated work take its toll. I’d say the level of effort at that time went from ‘not easy’ to ‘not hard, but...’.

My friend Matt had the mental strategy of breaking down the course into three mile chunks, with the goal of knocking out each piece in 21:30. Starting at mile 12, this really became a big help to not focus on the 14 total miles remaining, but rather, just the next 3. My purpose became to get to mile 15 on time, then 18, then 21. There’s no point in even being mindful of a portion of the race 10 miles away because there’s no telling how you’ll feel when you get there. Three miles ahead is a different story, as you can sense any potential trouble you might encounter in the next twenty minutes, and mentally focus or regroup as necessary. This midsection of the race became a repetition of 'survive 3 miles and reassess'. 

Mile 19 got into a really nice part of the course as we wound or way thought Old Town Scottsdale, with positive crowds and intimate neighborhoods and shopping districts. This area was also home for me not too long ago, which gave me the added benefit of familiarity. I felt good and strong going through this segment of the course, but once it was over and we hit mile 21, the effort rocketed up from ‘not hard’ to ‘stabbed in my feet and thighs’. I was still with the 3:10 pace group, but straggling at the back of the pack. The pace group was down to about 10 now from 25 at the start, and I started to believe myself that my departure would reduce the group to a headcount of 9. Every slight uphill swale felt like a good time to stop and give up on my BQ goal. I just wanted the whole ordeal to be over. However, I also knew that'd be wasting the two-plus hours of work I'd already put in (not to mention the months of training). My mantra became ‘Hang On’, and do whatever it would take to stay on pace.

I was reminded of a powerful memory I had from viewing this year’s NYC Marathon when Shalane Flanagan held on until the end and finished second. Moments after she crossed the finish line, she was on her hands and knees in full and utter exhaustion. The agony she must have endured the last few miles while holding on to the end is what separates those who achieve their goals, and those who fail. I convinced myself to do as Shalane did, and endure everything until I finished 26.2 miles - to just hang on.

Shalane Flanagan after finishing the 2010 NYC Marathon in 2nd place

At mile 22, the game changed. We hit a water stop, and my conviction to hang on coupled with a cup of cold water poured on my head gave me the last charge I needed. The temperature was up into the 50s by now, so that little bit of coolant was a big boost. I felt fresher, stronger, and within reach of the end. I went from a straggler on the back of the 3:10 pace group (which was probably down to 5 runners) to running at the front of it. I was just trying to tackle one mile at a time, and gradually work my way up to 26. Matt was still with me, and our pacer, Tony, was still keeping us encouraged and running strong. I could also feel the blisters on both of my feet start to make their presence felt, but it was nothing too severe to be a problem.

Left-to-Right: Matt, Me, and Tony around mile 23

I started the countdown in my mind of whatever milestone I could come up with: 30 minutes to go, 4 miles, 3 miles, 20 minutes, 2 miles, 2 km. At each point, I did the calculation of what kind of pace I’d have to run the rest of the way to hit 3:10. Once those calculations started to get up to 8:00 and 9:00 paces, I started thinking that I had my 3:10 in the bag, that I could easily coast in the rest of the way and get a qualifying time. That was my first sensation that I’d done it; that I would be a 3:10 marathoner and Boston Qualifier. It got much easier to hang on and grind through the rest of the race when it was measured in mere fractions of a mile. Tony (the 3:10 pacer) let me go, saying I had it, and now I just needed to enjoy the victory lap.

I clicked off the last milestones: 0.9 miles to go, 0.8, 0.5, and so on until I made the last turn and saw the finish line a few hundred yards ahead. I checked my watch, checked ahead of me and behind me to see if anyone was nearby (they weren’t), then truly enjoyed the last 20 yards as I clapped for the crowd and ‘airplaned’ my way across the finish line. All that was left to do was check my final time – 3:06:23. New PR. Qualified for Boston.

Check out the splits & details from my Garmin Forerunner

Tony, Matt, and Me after finishing under 3:10. I couldn't have done it without both of these guys.



Marathon Mental-Readiness Checklist

The countdown to my next big race, the Rock & Roll Arizona Marathon, is down to a scant 3 days. Sunday, I'll toe the line and chase down an elusive, and at times seemingly impossible, goal of qualifying for the Boston Marathon. This will only be my 3rd full marathon (if I finish - knock on wood), and my PR is a gaping 8 minutes slower than the 3:10 standard that is required for my age group. Earning the 'Qualifier' distinction is something I've respected since the day I started running competitively, and one I've chased since the day I finished my first half marathon and got the notion that perhaps I could achieve it. I've had a long and rocky pursuit, but I feel strongly that this Sunday harbors a successful terminus. 


All of our goals and aspirations are very personal and relative to our own abilities and ambitions. When I finished my first half marathon, I felt like I was on top of the world and my running pursuits were fulfilled. Soon enough, my eyes interests moved on to the marathon distance, then to ultras. At each step, crossing the finish line felt like the ultimate accomplishment, and gave me the honor of feeling like I'd arrived at some ostensibly insurmountable summit. Those are my greatest feats achieved, and i know to some they may seam unattainable, and to others, they are simply pedestrian. To the former group, you'd be surprised what you are capable of; and to the latter, can I run with you sometime?


For now, my 'ultimate goal' is to cover 26.2 miles in under 190 minutes. That's it. Nothing more complicated than that. To accomplish that, I have to believe I've prepared myself adequately. I have to convince myself that my tedious, grinding, and redundant efforts over the past several weeks have primed my body to run a 7:15 mile twenty-six times in a row. Given my professional background as a forensic accountant and naturally skeptical nature, I have to lay out the evidence even to win an argument with myself. So here goes:

• Two and a half months ago, I ran 3:18 at the Niagara Falls International Marathon.
• Going into that race, I didn't rest properly and focus much on it mentally, as I viewed it as just a training run in preparation for another race I had planned on doing in November (which I ultimately didn't run for other reasons). Additionally, I had stomach problems during the race that probably cost me about 4 minutes.
• I've put in 12 weeks of excellent and problem-free training since then.
• I've been training on difficult (read: hilly) courses and in adverse weather conditions. 
• The weather should be perfect.
• I have a clear goal and have actually put thought and consideration to my race strategy. 
• I've run enough intervals and tempo sessions that I feel comfortable at the 7:00 pace.
• I have a positive and confident attitude. 

To me, this is a convincing list. I should be compelled to believe that I'm ready and can do 3:10 no problem, but the last, and most important part of achieving my goal is still incomplete, and candidly, there's nothing I can do about it. I have to execute and endure the and physical pain and mental suffering requisite for my goal. 

Any goal that doesn't require this test of will and determination just isn't a goal worth having.

See you after the race on Sunday.

-John

2010 Running Year in Review

Overview

2010 was more of an up-and-down year for me than it was for Lebron James' popularity. I'll elaborate in a later post, but the year started with a medical episode that kept me from running from about October 2009 until March 2010. However, once I got back on my feet I had the best 9 months of training and racing yet. This was fortuitous and necessary, since the first 3 months were the rock bottom of my running career. In July I finished my first ultra-marathon (the Midnight Madness 50 miler); in October I set a PR in the Niagara Falls International Marathon; and finished off the year with 2 months of excellent training in preparation for the Rock & Roll Arizona Marathon in January 2011.

Races

Oklahoma Aquarium Half - A small race I did just as the first part of a 26 mile training run in preparation for the Midnight Madness 6 weeks later.

Midnight Madness 50 Miler - This race was the dominating event in my life for 3.5 months. I heard of this race when I was first starting to run again in March. Beyond anything I could control, the seed of ambition was planted in my mind to run it. I saw it as part redemption, part exercise in discipline, and part fulfillment of a bucketlist goal. Once I had even the notion that I could do it, it was over; I had to try it. The race itself started at 11:59 PM on July 2nd, and consisted of 5 loops around a 10.3 mile loop on a humid night. I threw up a bunch, generally hated life by mile 30, but got through it. Here is a video of me saying hello after about 6 hours:

 And me finally getting the thing done (and swearing to myself I'd never run again):

Philadelphia Rock & Roll Half Marathon - A great race around some the most famous Philadelphia landmarks. I loved the whole experience.

Niagara Falls International Marathon - I didn't focus too much on this race, as I just looked at it as a test of my fitness in preparation for the rest of the year. However, I got caught up in the competitive atmosphere and felt better during the race than I expected, which led to a great performance (new PR by 10 minutes). The weather was perfect and the course was decent. It also traces the route Quenton Cassidy ran in the Olympic Trials at the end of Again to Carthage. And yes, the ghost of Jack Nubbins did appear to pace me the last 7 miles.

Run for the Ranch Half Marathon - Also supposed to just be a test of my fitness, but like I always do, I started running much faster than I planned on running. (Un)Fortunately, I couldn't talk myself into slowing down early, then just tried to hang on late. I didn't set a PR, but in this small race, I actually won the 20-29 age group and picked up my first trophy. I'm glad I stuck around for the awards ceremony.

Training

Where & What I Ran

As shown below, I logged about a third of my miles on 'Easy' efforts, a third on 'Tempo' efforts, and a little less than a third on long runs. I'm satisfied with this distribution, and I think it's a big reason why I stayed relatively injury free throughout the year.

With my graduate student lifestyle, I spent the Spring and Fall semesters in New York City, and did a Summer internship in Tulsa, OK. This explains why these two cities account for about 70% of my miles. Additionally, the Central Park loop is a fantastic place to run, but putting in nearly 800 miles on a 6 mile course gets a little monotonous. My back of the envelope calculation says I did the loop over 130 times in 2010. Also, I logged lots of miles on the treadmill over the summer to try and avoid the sweltering heat and humidity of summer in Oklahoma. However, I have tried to avoid the machine as much as possible since then because it's really just not the same workout. Otherwise that number would have been much bigger.

This same analysis of miles-by-shoe should look much differently in 2011. I started the year loyal to the Brooks Addiction 8. I've gone through probably 7 or 8 pairs of this shoe, and loved it for years. However, over the Summer and into the Fall, I became a bigger devotee to the minimalist shoe movement, and really concentrated on changing my stride so that I landed less on my heel, and more on my mid-foot. This made the over-pronation mitigation provided by the Addiction unnecessary, and rendering the shoe nothing more than a heavy, over-cushioned boot. Next year, I expect to see more 'less-shoe' shoes on this list, such as the Free & Kinvara, as well as maybe the New Balance 101 or Brooks Green Silence.

How I Ran

As would be expected, the first third of the year barely even registers on my charts. However, once I made the commitment in mid-March to run an Ultra in July, my miles picked up very quickly. My average pace actually got slower as I worked myself into better shape from March to July. This seems counter-intuitive until you consider two things: more of my mileage came from longer & slower runs as I approached the race, and the changing of the season to Summer created significantly more difficult weather conditions. After July, my focus shifted towards shorter distances, and temperatures eventually started to cool down. My training intensity really kicked up in September, resulting in more miles at faster paces.

I like to calculate my 'rolling' totals, which is just how many miles I've run in a trailing period of X days. I think it's a good measure of the fatigue and work you've put your body through. The main idea is any mile run when your rolling 7 or 28 day total is high is of higher value than when the rolling total is low since you'll be running through more fatigue.

*I've cut off the max pace, as my 13:00 pace for the Midnight Madness 50 miler in July skewed that month significantly. Suffice it to say that my average pace during that time was sloooow.

The more days I can spend above certain thresholds of rolling totals, the better. This means my body will spend more time in a 'broken-down' state during training, thus yielding better and stronger results. The tables below show how many days my rolling totals were above certain thresholds. As you can see, I spent almost half the year with "over 175 miles in 28 days" fatigue; and more than a month of  "60 mile week" fatigue. This is good, but ideally, I'd live with perpetual 200 mile/28 day fatigue.

Summary

I'm pleased with my accomplishments in 2010, and feel I've set myself up for a good start to 2011. I earned the title "Ultra-Marathoner", set a new Marathon PR by 10 minutes, and picked up my first age-group victory in the half-marathon distance. Additionally, I worked myself into the best marathon condition I've ever been in, and am poised to set another marathon PR on January 16, 2011 in the Rock & Roll Arizona Marathon. I came back from a pretty serious medical condition, and taught myself about the impact that can be achieved with a good mentality and dedication to a goal.

Rivals and Accountability

One of my favorite writers, Chuck Klosterman, wrote a phenomenal social-observation essay on the importance of having a 'Nemesis' and an 'Archenemy' in your life. The former is a person you begrudgingly and surreptitiously like, but outwardly hate. You're Archenemy is someone you compete with and revile to your core. In a footrace, you'd want to finish first, you'd like your Nemisis to finish somewhere in the top 10%, and you pray to your God that your Archenemy gets trampled at the start. I agree with everything Klosterman said, but want to add one more role; a person in your life that fits somewhere between you're least favorite brother and your Nemsis; the person you'd want to finish 2nd: you're rival training partner.

This is a guy who is at about your same level of ability, has about the same goals, and about the same intensity as you. In fact, you're remarkable similarity and parity creates the reason why you want so badly to best this person in anything that could possibly be perceived as a competition. 

One of the beauties of running is it enables perfect comparability. Results are black and white: you either finish ahead of someone or behind them. There aren't any ties either. There are close finishes, but really no ties. This clarity of results creates a dimension in which you and your rival can finally and definitively distinguish yourselves. The two of you may be comparable in every other respect, but you can always earn the pride and esteem that comes from victory by beating your rival. 

In addition to being someone similar to you in most ways, your rival also has to be someone you at least kind-of respect. This is because it has to mean something to you personally to beat them. It also means you should probably have de-facto respect for yourself since the rival is your near doppelgänger. 

The social dynamic that is the lynchpin of rivalry-driven results is accountability. Your rival probably knows what you are up to: how long your long-run is or how fast your tempo runs are. Because of this, you better know yourself what your rival is up to. If your rival ran 17 miles for their long run, they will earn a minor victory unless you run the same distance & effort. Falling short will only be a tiny admission that this was an instance in which your rival was able to rise to the occasion, but you weren't. This is a constant check for every workout to make sure you are always giving your best effort, as your pride and competitive vigor shouldn't accept these small defeats easily. If you do you can be sure your rival will surpass you eventually, and earn a smug grin the next time you meet and compare training progress. These outcomes will foreshadow your long term triumphs or failures.