Category: Running

Posted at The Loop, the blogs at Runner’sWorld.com

Talk about first world problems. Or maybe we can come up with another phrase for it. 21st century problems. Technofracture. I don’t know. All I know is, there I was, in the gym, ready to do some serious running, and nothing was working right.

The focus should be the run, I get that, and as far as I could tell, my ankles knees and hips were in good order, my calves and thighs. No inner ear problem, lungs fine, heart beating regular as always. This 41-year-old machine, as good as ever. Maybe not at its absolute best, but good enough, better than some, to be sure, and I should be thankful.

But I couldn’t help but be dismayed. I’m standing there like a jerk, trying to get my watch to talk to my shoe and my heart-rate monitor, with no luck. My watch simply could not find my foot sensor, and my heart rate monitor was blue-tooth AWOL as well. I sat down, took off my shoe, inspected the little pod that’s inserted inside. It was pretty grubby– I’ve heard of people blowing through the internal battery on these things in three months, whereas mine had lasted over three years. Maybe I had accidentally pressed the little on-off button. So I tried pressing it again, although my fingers are too fat and I wasn’t sure if I was pressing it at all. And was it a click, or did I need to hold it down?

I tried every permutation and combination of presses and holds, all the while testing the watch, but no luck. I tried the heart rate monitor as well, even checking my own pulse to make sure I was indeed, alive, and not by chance somehow a zombie today. But as I said, my pulse was fine. But I was unhappy all the same– two things breaking down at the same time is a weird coincidence.

Or, no it’s not. Thankfully, I had a back-up– my phone. I was able to start an app that counted my steps for me, so long as I held the phone in my hand. So I did that, setting the treadmill for 10 minute miles, and not feeling the least bit guilty that the phone thought I was running 9:15s. I only ran two miles, and by two, I mean according to the phone.

Honestly, that’s the real take-away here. As frustrated as I was, I wasn’t so frustrated as to give up on the run altogether. Because that HAS happened before– getting to the gym only to realize the mp3 player’s batteries are dead. Or I forgot the step-counter. Which is why I am usually covered with so many gadgets– never know which one’s going to go kaput.

When I got home I replaced the footpod with a new one and replaced the battery in the heartrate monitor, tested them both, and everything was good again. The next day I was back at the gym– coated in gadgets, to be sure– and smiling.

Posted at The Loop, the blogs at Runner’sWorld.com

There’s this really great running trail in Shoreline, the Interurban, blacktop paved, wide, well maintained, with pedestrian bridges over a major intersection. I end up running along it three or four times a week, depending. Going south to north it’s a very gentle climb, making it easy to run both ways. But for some reason, I can only ever run it one way at a time.

I really despise out-and-back routes, and I’m not even sure why. The Interurban would be great for an out-and-back, but I end up taking sides streets for half the run, in order to create a loop, and this despite some pretty tough hills along those side streets. If I’m feeling creative, I’ll run up the Interurban, switch to a side street, then come back on the Interurban to the point I was on it before, then switch to another side street, creating a kind of figure-eight loop.

And although I said I’m not sure why I can’t bring myself to do out-and-backs, I have my suspicions. I think it might have something to do with GPS mapping—I have one of those Nike+ watches, and I love looking at the maps of my runs after I’m done, especially on a brand-new route. But if I’m going out for a 5 miler, and I’ll end up on a loop I’ve run dozens of times. So why should the map matter?

I can recall, five years ago when I started running, I ran for time, not for distance—the goal was, for example, to run for 30 minutes, and I always ran an out-and-back: 15 minutes out, 15 minutes back (20 back if I pushed too hard on the first half). But then I switched to mileage goals, and I’d create routes using an online mapping tool. Some of the tools would get wonky if I tried to create a way-point on a street that already had a route marked on it. That’s my excuse.

I’m writing this to see if you commiserate. Does anyone else had out-and-backs like I do? Just today, as I was heading home on the last half mile, I avoid a blind intersection by taking a side street, which put me on a street I had already run today for all of one block. And I cringed the whole time. Anyone else suffering from this ridiculous psychosis?

Posted at The Loop, the blogs at Runner’sWorld.com

When I start a new hobby, I get into it by reading everything I can, in bookstores, on the internet, on bathroom walls. Running was no different, and many of you know what I mean when I say: instant confusion. Tempo runs? Repeats? Yasso 800s? Was I really going to have to learn—and practice—all this stuff? How does one, specifically, run “30 seconds below 10k pace”? What the heck’s an IT Band, where do I buy one, how much is it going to cost, and can I use it with iTunes? My head was in a whirl.

Lucky for me, I don’t have good running genes, so there was no threat of wasted potential. I could safely ignore all that stuff and just run, if I wanted to. I have blogged before about the ills of running too much, meaning too fast or too often. That’s a lesson I should have learned (and maybe would have if I’d persevered with those books) early on. But for the most part, I could just run whenever I felt like it and let “training” be another one of those things that the elites do.

All that said, however, there was one term that stood out, one that really resonated with me. (I’m not talking about “tapering,” even though I pointed out last week how good I am it.) I’m talking about the word “fartlek,” and if you’re in a safe place right now as you read this, go ahead and let yourself laugh out loud. We all know what it sounds like.

Which is the point. My understanding is that “fartlek” refers to “playing around” while you run, and if, for you, that means going to Taco Bell to fuel up, so be it. Otherwise, a “fartlek” is any spontaneous burst of speed, done for any reason at all. Maybe you’re feeling good, so you decided to sprint to the next telephone pole. Or you’re getting bored on a hill, and decide to finish it off with a mad dash. A fartlek can be as long or short as you like, as fast or as slow. The point is to enjoy it, and not worry too much.

And after 5 years of running, I’ve found that I naturally, even accidentally, do fartleks now and again as part of my everyday running. So here’s a list of fartlek tricks, or maybe fartlektrugen, or even zufalligefartlektrugen.

• Trip on a piece of sidewalk, almost but not quite fall, sudden adrenaline rush: fartlek
• 100 yards from an intersection, light turns yellow: fartlek
• 2 year old, half a block away, wanders into semi-busy street: fartlek, with a single 30 pound curl, carry, and deliver.
• Passing an ivy covered fence, dog barks: fartlek.
• Awesome guitar solo on the iPod: fartlek
• Glance at your watch, note you’re running 1 minute/mile below your “slow” pace: fartlek
• Glance at your watch, note you were supposed to be home 5 minutes ago to shower and get dressed for your turn driving the carpool: fartlek
• Coming towards you on the sidewalk, attractive person of a gender you find attractive: fartlek with excellent running posture and mouth closed, breathing through nose
• Shortcut through heavily wooded park, close to dusk: fartlek.

Let me know if you have any other unbeabsichtigtfartzufalliglektrugen (or whatever YOU call them).

Posted at The Loop, the blogs at Runner’sWorld.com

I’ve mentioned before that the Ragnar Relay is my number one all-time favorite run, and it’s coming up in two weeks. And I want to be ready. And I do not use italics lightly. I want to get the most out of this year’s running, and for me, that means only one thing: running injury free.

I am prone to blowing out my calf, one or the other (not sure what the technical term is). I even went to see a foot doctor about it, since it was happening all the time. He told me my bones were too long for my muscles, and so I was putting too much stress on them. My options were surgery, or stretching. I chose stretching. I should tell you that this is the same doctor who told me I was running wrong, that I am supposed to hit heel first. I don’t mean to insult ducks, but what a quack.

One year, I blew out my calf about two weeks before Ragnar. Ran it anyway. Back then, I was normally able to hold about a nine minute per mile average for up to ten miles. But having a bum calf meant I was lucky to manage 10’30” per mile. Here’s an irony: I was only to run at all by using a very exaggerated heel strike. Turns out it prolonged my recovery by about a month.

I know a little bit better now. I saw a physical therapist, who helped me loosen up my ankles and hips, which keeps from pronating so much that my mid-foot strike moves way up closer to my toes. And I know better than to train at race paces, which has also reduced the frequency of injuries.

So, last Wednesday was my final “hard run” and this week I’m cutting back from 5 times a week to just three. Next week I’m going run just twice, two short very slow 5k. I don’t want to brag, but this is not a problem for me. I know some people get really antsy when they can’t run. Mentally, they know one week off won’t diminish their abilities, but emotionally it eats away at them. Not me!

I mean, some people are good at training. Some people thrive under the pressure of performance. Some people are wizards with nutrition, with knowing their own bodies, with finding super-awesome shoe sales and getting kick-ass socks at 90% off. My personal running gift is being a taper diva. It’s like I was made to rest before races. (Hey, Christopher McDougall, I have great idea for a sequal: Born to Rest. Come interview me any time you want, man).

Sure, I might get a little depressed, especially since the weather finally turned nice here, and will only stay like this for maybe another week or so. But I can handle it, mostly thanks to beer. Beer is a great excuse to run, on those days when you might not otherwise manage it. And, it turns out, it’s a great way to survive not running as well.

Indeed, as I write this, I am actually tapering with a Guinness Black Lager. After I post, I may go taper with a pilsner, and this weekend I plan on tapering in more than a few fine bars here in Seattle.

Come to think of it, tapering is pretty great!

(posted at The Loop, the blogs over at RunnersWorld.com)

I sort of decided to run this one last-minute, meaning I signed up only a few days before and I didn’t “train” for it, as such. Not that I “train” for runs in particular, or even “train” at all. I just like to run. Although, lately, I have been more purposeful in how I run, specifically, trying to run more often and more slowly. So that’s a kind of training, right? And since I’ve been trying to run more slowly, I decided, again, last minute, to go all-out in this 5k.

But I needed a plan, because I know from experience “all out” lasts about 2 minutes, and then it’s just trying to survive after that. So here’s what I did: I made a play list of songs lasting for a total of about 26 minutes. I ordered them by changes in speed, and my goal was to run at an 8 minute/mile pace during the fast parts, and at 8:30/mile pace during the slow parts.

I have no science to back up this rationale. And honestly, I am nowhere near able to tell how fast I’m running at any given moment. I do have a GPS watch, but at a glance it can be “off” by as much as 2 minutes/mile in either direction. But, for the most part, for me, 8:00/mile is pushing myself nearly to max, and 8:30/mile is pushing harder than my preferred “training” pace. And of course, this was not a flat route, and I didn’t really map the expected paces to the elevation changes, so running by effort was not going to really, accurately, reflect my actual pace.

But who cares. I had a plan and making the plan was kind of fun. There’s world-class runners, elites, and competitors. I am running hobbyist. “Preparing” like this was just another way to enjoy the whole thing.

So the idea was: start off “slow,” and when the music changes, go fast, then “rest,” and then push again. I even made a spreadsheet of all of the times when the songs change. According to my calculations, if all went well, I’d finish somewhere be 25 and 26 minutes, which was just fine with me.

I finished in 24’01”.

According to my chart, I was supposed to finish the first mile in 8’17”. According to my GPS watch, I finished the first mile in 8’11”. I’m sure, for elites, a six second discrepancy can speak volumes. But for a chubby running hobbyist, this was a triumph!

I was supposed to finish the second mile by 16’27”, and my actual time was 15’56”. So this is where I, conveniently, shift from being proud of my number crunching to being proud of my running. Those 25 seconds were gained going up a 100 foot climb over about half a mile.

Finally, that last mile, was supposed to be 24’41”, but was actually 23’25”. Another 51 seconds gained.

Now, like I said, this is not at all scientific, nor even very rigorous, using a GPS watch and a spreadsheet, not accounting for elevation changes, and dodging people at the crowded beginning, and a list of other mitigating factors I’m sure you can come up with. Honestly, this could all be a sort of coincidence—if I crunch enough numbers, I bet I could justify almost any kind of prediction and result.

But as I said above, just doing the planning beforehand was fun, and added an extra dimension to the whole experience.

Another one posted on the blogs on Runner’s World.com

I have run a marathon in Zurich, a 5k around the Roman Coliseum, and a few half-marathons along the Las Vegas Strip (both in the daytime and night). Those were all fantastic runs, but my favorite year-in and year-out is the Ragnar Northwest Passage. On this adventure, a team of 12 people take turns running between 3 and 8 miles at a time, covering 187 miles nonstop.

This will by my fifth running, and this year I am runner #6. I have been planning assiduously for my legs, and I’d like to share my plan for my first sortie, a 6.5 miler outside of Bellingham.

7:30 am Our first runner begins in Blaine, Washington, right at the US/Canada border. I was given this leg the very first year my friends and I ever ran the Ragnar, so you could say I’ve been doing this long longer than anyone I know.

12:00 (noon) According to some very rough estimates based on average paces, altitude changes, ambient temperature, relative humidity, playlist selection, shoe selection, hydration, and the position of Mars in Sagittarius, I expect runner #5 to be about 14 minutes and 19 seconds away from our exchange. I’ll put on my shoes (Nike Free 3.0 with about 150 miles on ‘em), my cool 70’s-style bandana, my Nike+ GPS watch on one wrist, my iPod Nano in a wrist-band holder on the other, and don a pair of supremely choice sunglasses even if it is raining.

12:02 I’ll head to one of the Honeybuckets.

12:04 I’ll slather my hands with Purell, and down a 5-Hour Energy Drink.

12:06 Another visit to a Honeybucket.

12:08 More Purell, and begin stretching.

12:10 One more Honeybucket visit.

12:12 Purell. More stretching, start the GPS watch and put it on pause so it’s not still searching for a satellite while I’ve already started running.

12:13 Cue up the playlist. John Petrucci, Daikaiju, Tool, Jethro Tull.

12:14:19 Runner 5 comes at me. I take the baton/slap-bracelet. Off I go!

1:12:49 Slap runner 7 with the bracelet, begin earnest search for beer.

A perfect 9 minute/mile average! Way to pace yourself over the elevation gains and frequent busy street-crossings, me!

Now you maybe be wondering about the specifics during the running itself, but let’s face it: running is extremely personal (and the truth is I did type it up but it spans some 15,000 words, taking more time to write than it literally takes me to run 6.5 miles. This is a blog post, not a book by Cheever).

But at least I shared the beer part with you.

Posted on my “blog” at Runner’s World

I’ve been participating in these monthly run-raffles at a nearby running store, where they give away shoes, GPS watches, races entries, and so forth. My first night there, they were throwing socks into the crowd. And then, out of hundreds of people I won… a gift certificate for socks. I have to say I was sort of disappointed.

When I started running 5-ish years ago, I was in old sneakers, gym shorts, cotton briefs, cotton t-shirt, chunky mp3-player. I was too slow and running distances that were too short for any of those things to be a problem. But I wanted to get into it, so I went to the internet. I was told shoes! You must have the right shoes!

So I went and got the right shoes. Did one of those treadmill tests, you know, with the video camera and the sales associate who knew how to link my stride to the shoe they wanted to sell me. Yes, I’m being cynical here. Turns out the guy was way wrong, that my natural-forefoot strike doesn’t need any kind of correction at all.

But he also talked me into getting some socks. And for that I’ll be eternally grateful. I also, over the course of a few months, learned about moisture-wicking fabrics for my shirts and undershorts. I got a slick mp3 player and an arm-band to hold it. But it was those socks that changed me from a guy who sometimes goes for a run to a real runner.

There have been times when I’ll want to go for a run, and maybe I can’t find the shirt I want, so I make do. Or my shoes are muddy from a previous run, so I’ll use an old pair. Or I have to revert to gym shorts again because I haven’t done the laundry. But run in anything besides my running socks? Forget it.

Anything else and my feet get uncomfortably hot almost immediately. My toes feel cramped and suffocated. Blisters and not just likely, but guaranteed. Chafing on the ankle. Cats and dogs living together, mass hysteria.

Yeah it’s probably more psychosomatic than anything. But whatever gets me out there is a good thing, and this an ode to help me remember that. The other day I found myself frantic, looking for clean socks. No socks, no run! (I’ve tried barefoot running and I like it but my calves won’t let me do it all the time). Finally I found one of those pairs I’d won in that running-store raffle… and you should have seen the smile on my face. Sure, a new expensive GPS watch would have been cool, but it would have been worthless, me sitting next to the washing machine, waiting for my socks to get clean.