Mind Over Body Marathon

In Search of IT

2012-01-07T09:00:00.001-08:00

IT gets you up before everyone else.

IT gets you out the door when its dark and cold and raining.

IT is the reason you're in bed early and the reason you lay awake thinking, visualizing, hoping.

IT pushes you through the last few miles and keeps you on pace.

IT tells you to keep going when you're sure you've given it your last ounce of energy.

IT keeps you coming back for more, telling you that you can do that just a little bit better. A little bit faster. A little bit harder.

IT is why you do what you do.

I haven't had much of IT lately.

I certainly didn't have IT this morning as I fought myself to get dressed and on the road.

IT wasn't anywhere to be found during my first few miles; just a long slow boring Saturday run.

Man, I really needed IT.

And then I saw IT. IT was about 100 yards in front of me, moving at roughly the same speed I was.

Go get IT.

And I nearly did.

But then IT took a shortcut through the park and re-emerged a mile later, now a 1/4 mile in front and already moving up the hill.

I was running out of road, only two miles left.

Time to dig deep and go get IT.

Run IT down.

Passed IT.

Ran away from IT.

Found IT.

2011 Year in Review

2011-11-28T21:00:00.000-08:00

Finishing Pocatello

2011 At-a-Glance:

1 50-mile ultra marathon (also HERE).

6 marathons (1 PR)

2 half marathons (1 PR)

2 10ks

1 5k (1 PR)

1 Friends & Family Turkey-Trot (1st place)

256 race miles

1251 total miles (as of Nov 28th) and counting

My first triathlon

Marathon Maniac status (bronze level, later promoted to silver)

Learned to swim

It was full year of training and racing, with the first marathon coming the first weekend in March and the last race on Thanksgiving day. I'm ready for a little break through the holidays and with that, a chance to reflect on what I've accomplished, what my next challenges are and what I can do in 2012 to reach them.

Most Satisfying: Staying (running-)injury-free the entire year. Multiple marathons and other races weeks apart, the training in between, no more than a day or two of rest and recovery afterwards and no injuries this year. There's a difference between sickness, pain and injury. If you've got the first, you need to be smart (see Exhibit A from October). If you've got the latter you need to stop. If you've got the remaining one you need to suck it up. There was plenty of pain this year (post-Red Rock Canyon marathon comes to mind quickly), but no injuries.There was one week back in April where everyone from my parents to the surgeon thought I had a hernia that needed fixing, but that was from overdoing it during a spin class session(see also HERE, and HERE). I attribute this to another full year eating healthy, getting enough sleep and taking regular rest days at the same time every week (Sunday and Monday, light on Friday). I can still eat even healthier, but I've come along way since January 2010 when I first started making fresh fruit a regular part of my diet.

Best Race Medal: St. George Marathon. Made of sandstone, each of the 7000+ medals were unique. Newport comes in a close 2nd for its unique glass medal.

With Scott Jurek

Most Unexpected: Meeting Scott Jurek at the Seattle Rock 'n' Roll expo. Nicest guy ever.

Me, A, M after St George

Most Enjoyable: Hanging out with my buddy A, and his wife M at the St. George marathon. It was their first marathon and experiencing it with them was awesome. From driving the course the day before (M: "How far have we driven?" A: "About halfway." M: "Only half?!?") to the hanging out at the expo/pasta dinner, to the early morning bus ride, to killing time in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night for a few hours pre-race, to running the first half mile or so all together and then finally to see them cross the finish line together and (after some time) experience the awesomeness that is the feeling of finishing your first marathon. And then to get a phone call the following Monday morning that began with "I can't even walk down the stairs in my house I'm so sore today, so why do I have the urge to sign up and run another one?" He's been bitten (M, not so much).

Tri For Life Triathlon

Most Difficult: Without a doubt, learning to swim. Running was difficult at first too. But there was never any chance of drowning while running. Learning to swim was extremely frustrating and in the days leading up to my first triathlon, a 500 meter swim was about the most awful thing I could think of. And it didn't go all that smoothly on race day either. I didn't swim again until just a few weeks ago, and it was still just as awful as I remembered it. But something happened as I started showing up to the YMCA pre-6am every single day: it got easier. I started swimming 1000 yards every morning. And then on Day 7: a mile. In 44 minutes. Without a struggle. Now I'm swimming a mile a couple of times a week and combining 500 or 1000 yard swims with 5k runs on other days.

Autumn Leaves 50 miler

Most Questionable: No question about it, the Autumn Leaves 50-miler. When your parents openly question if you can and/or should TRY it, even during the week leading up to the race you start to wonder a little bit if you should. When your wife half-jokingly (give or take a few % points) asks about the value of your life insurance policies and is satisfied with the answer you wonder if you're crazy. And in a quite moment at the starting line, when you're asking yourself "What. Am. I. Doing?" you try to answer the question. But you don't have time to, because the gun goes off and you do the only thing you can do at that point: you run.

Business Left Undone: A sub-4 hour marathon. I've got to get there. 4:07 in Seattle in June and 4:08 in Pocatello in September was as close as I got. In both of those races I was tracking sub-4 until miles 21 and 22, respectively.

Goals for 2012:

1. Sub-4 hour marathon. Stays on the list until it's accomplished.

2. Olympic-distance open-water triathlon.

I may have a few posts here and there in the coming weeks, but probably not too much. There may even be a redesign of this site if I get around to it. But I'll be back at it regularly in January, ready to hit the training hard for what I hope is another great year. If you don't want to miss any posts, be sure to subscribe via email in the box on the left side of the page or become a Google follower. Thanks for reading and staying in touch in whatever way you do (even if it's just stopping in every so often to read). Your support and encouragement means a lot.

Efficient Digestion

2011-11-15T16:16:00.000-08:00

Here's a quick, 2 1/2 minute video of Tim VanOrden talking about efficient digestion. I don't eat as clean a diet as he does, but his emphasis on the benefits of eating foods that digest quickly and easily (think: fresh fruit) is spot on. He's a great speaker, also. Very easy to follow and understand. I would add that the same could be said about sleeping with a stomach full of hard to digest food: more energy is diverted away from the body repairing itself and directed towards breaking down and digesting whatever it was you stuffed yourself with before bed.

2011 Autumn Leaves 50 Miler: Nutrition & Refueling

2011-11-11T20:05:00.000-08:00

Before it gets to be too far down the road I wanted to make sure I said a few words about my nutrition and refueling strategy during my recent 50 miler. You can read about my concerns prior to the race here, but basically it came down to two things:

1. Quite often I cramp in the final few miles of a marathon. Electrolyte depletion? Imbalance of nutrients?

2. How do I continue to replenish my energy stores after 20 miles and while continuing to run?

I wasn't sure what I would eat during the race, but figured I would just go with what my body was craving, particularly in the later miles. If you've followed this blog for any significant period of time you know I'm a huge proponent of a fruit predominant diet. I start every day with a half gallon of 100% frozen fruit smoothie goodness (oranges, bananas, strawberries) and try to eat fruit only (not including water) until dinner each day. Some days I do better than others, but I always start with a smoothie.

Running past the aid stations for the first few times I have to say, I was impressed. Heed, water, oranges, candy corn, bite-sized candy bars, gummy bears, pretzel/peanut butter bites, turkey and cheese sandwich bites, pb&j bites, and probably other things that I'm forgetting. It was quite the spread. Almost too much. I didn't know how hungry I would be as the day wore on and the sight of all the yummy, sugary goodness was actually a little frightening. I typically don't eat candy. Not because I don't like it, but because it feels like sludge in my stomach when I try to run on it.

As far as liquids go, I decided prior to the race that I would drink only Heed and no water. Scientifically correct or not, my thinking was that if I was going to need constant electrolyte replenishment during the day, that I had better start from the very first lap. From what I know about water, it dilutes things. So heed it was. (In the later laps I started mixing a Nuun Electrolyte tablet with the Heed in my water bottle, hoping it wasn't like mixing drugs). I also consumed 50z of EFS Liquid Shot after laps 1 and 2. I had more of this in my bag, but I just wasn't feeling it, so I left it alone.

Aid stations consisted mostly of orange bites. Lots and lots of orange bites. They tasted so good and I just kept craving them, so I just kept eating them every time I passed a station. Once I took a few gummy bears but couldn't swallow them (not sure why). Tried the pretzel/peanut butter bites once. Not bad, but left a bad taste in my mouth. After lap 4 I took about one half of a pb&j sandwich. It really tasted good. It sure didn't feel good 20 minutes down the road though, so no more of that. Other than that, it was orange bites, Heed and Nuun tablets all day.

No cramping.

No bonking.

My Garmin watch says I burned just over 6,500 calories during my run. That doesn't include calories burned just by existing the rest of the day. I don't know how many of those calories were replaced during the run, but I'm guessing not many. I don't know how many calories Heed has per 10oz, but I know how many an orange has and its not much, even with the number of oranges I consumed during the day.

Also interesting to me was the fact that post-race I never experienced the "I need a buffet NOW!" appetite that I often feel after a marathon. I waited for it, but it never came. The evening of the race I had a medium-sized plate of pasta, and then Sunday afternoon after church I had a 48oz smoothie. Another small plate of pasta Sunday night and that was it for the weekend. Monday came and I was back to normal.

I really was impressed by the Heed. It felt good in my stomach and I really felt like it was the difference in continuing all day without problems. That and refraining from the candy offered every few miles and sticking with the fresh fruit. Maybe that doesn't work for everyone, but for me, it was a winning combination.

This is kind of scattered-brained. I'm two weeks removed from race-day now and some of the details I wanted to include are starting to fade a bit. But I wanted to make the point that good nutrition really does matter. I'm not sure if things would have turned out the same if I had spent the day pounding down Butterfingers, candy corn, gummy bears and sandwiches.

Psychology of the Final Mile

2011-11-02T12:48:00.001-07:00

For the first 7 3/4 laps (48.44 miles) during my Autumn Leaves 50 mile race last Saturday I was completely locked in on only one thing: the lap I was on. That was my goal prior to the race, to focus only on the lap at hand and not to worry about anything else that had happened before or that still awaited me. For more than 10 hours I accomplished this goal, despite numerous opportunities to stray from it. A few quick examples:

Lap 1 was slower than I had projected. If this had been a marathon or another shorter distance race, running an early segment too slow would have mentally thrown me into a state of negativity ("it's just not my day") or into one in which I would try to make it all back up as quickly as possible and and up flaming out later in the race as a result. On Saturday I didn't care that my first lap was slow. I finished the lap, put it behind me, reset myself and started a new lap.

In a marathon, Lap 4 (miles 18.75-25) is where I would normally start to be extremely fatigued, walk more than I should, not want to start running again and quite often start to cramp. During the race though, it wasn't miles 18.75-25, it was simply Lap 4. Nothing more. This was actually my strongest and fastest lap of the entire day.

After completing Lap 6 and meeting my friend K at the aid station I looked at my overall time for the first time all day. I had been going for more than 7 hours. Just looking at that had the potential for disaster, much like the feeling you might get when swimming out into the ocean or a lake and not realizing how far out you are until you turn around. I could have panicked. But I reset myself again, as I had done a half dozen times already that day and started in to a new lap.

I was in a great rhythm all day and my running pace was remarkably consistent from start to finish (though my walking/recovery pace did slow in later laps).

So why then was the last 1.5 miles of the race so much more difficult? What changed?

As best as I can tell, two things happened.

1. I thought about how far I had come. 48.5 miles. Never had I run more than 26.2 miles at one time or 29 miles in one day. I was way out into that lake I mentioned.

2. I thought about how close (relatively) I was to the finish. Not the finish of the lap, but the finish of the race.

These two thoughts caused an almost instant change in my mentality. Instead of the confident, consistent pace I had been running all day, I was now in a struggle to keep moving. It's like I allowed my body to overcome my mind as it realized what it had done and it (my body) fought back by saying, "well if I've done all that, then I'm supposed to be exhausted and sore." And so I was. This was the battle I fought during the final 1/4 lap of the race.

As I wrote in my race recap though, I got to a point just about 1/4 mile from the end where I asked myself, "What do you have left?" At that point my mind took back control over my body and I sprinted to the finish line.

The quote from George S. Patton at the top of this site has been a fixture since I started running and writing here. Read it again now, given the context I've just laid out:

"Now if you are going to win any battle you have to do one thing. You have to make the mind run the body. Never let the body tell the mind what to do. The body will always give up. It is always tired in the morning, noon and night. But the body is never tired if the mind is not tired."

I thought I knew what he meant by that. Now I know.

72 -- The # of Recovery Hours For 50 Miles

2011-11-02T11:25:00.000-07:00

There was a point during my 50 mile run on Saturday that both time and distance felt like they had stopped. It was at 8 1/2 hours and more than 43 miles into the race, when I first noticed it, when it felt like I had run no further and had been out there no longer than during a marathon. I can't explain it. My recovery has been much the same as after a marathon also.

Saturday night was pretty awful. My knees were pretty swollen (I couldn't make out my knee caps anymore) and there was some pretty intense pain up and down my legs. Nothing sharp or acute, just dull and achy. It made it difficult to fall asleep because I couldn't ever get comfortable. At some point I fell asleep out of exhaustion and when I woke up Sunday morning, I was sore, but not like I had been.

I was moving pretty gingerly on Monday as well, but I took the stairs up to my office (my barometer of how my muscles are feeling on any given day) and felt decent. Once I got moving I was alright. It was the sitting and then starting to move that was most painful.

And then I awoke yesterday (Tuesday) and there was no pain. No muscle soreness at all. I helped out with our local high school's basketball clinic they put on for the local middle schools last night and before I could even think about it I found myself demonstrating a drill, running (yes, running full speed) up and down the court. No one else probably noticed or would have even cared, but at the end of the demonstration I cracked a smile, laughed to myself for a second and thought, "recovery complete."

And so it's back to training today. A good run this evening and one more tomorrow and then comes what could be my final race of the year on Saturday, the Silver Falls trail half marathon. It's a decently challenging course with some elevation change to deal with (including climbing a few flights of stairs around mile 10) that I ran in 2:02 last year.

I'm still working up my recap on my in-race (and post-race) nutrition and refueling strategy, which should appear here by the end of the week. I've said this before but I think it's worth saying again: I believe my diet is the biggest contributor to me getting back on my feet so soon after a long run or race.

Hooray for a quick recoveries.

2011 Autumn Leaves 50 Mile Recap: "It's Awesome, Baby!"

2011-10-31T16:34:00.000-07:00

Part 1: Autumn Leaves 50 miler at Champoeg State Park: 10hours 19minutes 21seconds
(Pictures to come as they become available)

Let me start by saying that it didn't feel like I was out there for 10+ hours. I can't explain it, but at the end of lap 7 (of 8), I commented to my buddy who paced me the last two laps that I really hadn't felt like it had been 8 1/2 hours, or basically two marathons. In fact, the whole day -- the time spent, how my legs and body felt, even how the miles felt, didn't seem all that different from a marathon. I've spent the time since finishing trying to get my head around why and have come up with a few possible reasons, but nothing concrete. I'll mention a few of them as I get through my race recap. Also, I have to give credit to all of the amazing runners that were there. So many of them completed this race in 7 hours, 8 hours, 9 hours...just amazing. They are inspirations to me.

Lap 1 - Miles 0-6.25
Run/Walk ratio goal: 20/1
Projected Time: 1:01
Actual Time: 1:08

It was an extremely foggy morning, especially being as close to the Willamette River as we were. This made it a little bit difficult to see as we started out at 6am, but because we all (most) had headlamps on, it wasn't a huge deal. The first 5 miles of the loop was on a nicely paved bike path that presented no problems such as pot holes, roots or rough pavement. It was easy to find space to run in after just a few hundred yards and I settled into a nice groove at about a 10:30 pace.

The first pass through the aid station came at 1.4 miles and then it was a run through the forest area (still on paved path) up to the turnaround just short of 3.1. The last 100 yards or so before the turnaround was a pretty good incline and after running it the first lap I decided it wasn't worth it and that I would walk it in later laps. It was such a short distance that the difference between running and walking it pace-wise really was negligible in the big picture.

The second pass through the aid station came at 4.75 miles and at 5 miles we split off from the bike path and onto the dirt trail for about 1.25 miles. In the dark this was a very difficult section to run. In some areas the actual trail was only 6" wide with uneven grass clumps on both sides. Some areas were through the trees, which presented their own problems. Because it was so dark we were instructed to follow the green glow sticks that were placed every so often along the way. Between looking for the glow sticks, trying to stay on the trail and continuing to keep up a good pace I was a little slow to react when the runner in front of me yelled "root!" What roo---? oh, that root. The one I just tripped over and face-planted because of (and as I later discovered, cut my leg because of). A good wake up call if nothing else.

The final .2 miles of the lap were back through the parking lot we had started in and up to the start/finish area where we crossed the mat, went around the cone, attended to the aid station and our drop bags and then set out for lap #2.

I was about 7 minutes slower than my projected time, but didn't care too much. I was running at a comfortable pace and that was more important, especially early on. I also discovered that my car was parked literally on the course (in that last .2 miles of the lap) which was nice as I stored some of my stuff there as well.

Lap 2 - Miles 6.25-12.5
Run/Walk ratio goal: 20/1
Projected Time: 1:01
Actual Time: 1:07

By the time lap 2 began it was starting to get light. Still extremely foggy, but light enough that I turned my headlamp off by the time I reached the aid station. I continued on at the pace I had been running and continued to take my walk break every 20 minutes.

One of the most important things I settled into on lap 2 was the mind set of taking this thing one lap at a time. I didn't worry about how many miles I had left or even how many laps were left. Nor did I look to see how many miles I had gone (I turned that setting off on my watch). I didn't even care what my time had been on previous laps. My only concern was the lap I was on, nothing else.

I finished lap 2 in 1:07, again a few minutes slower than projected, but I felt great and wasn't straining or struggling at all.

Lap 3 - Miles 12.5-18.75
Run/Walk ratio goal: 10/1
Projected Time: 1:09
Actual Time: 1:09

By lap three I felt like I knew the course well and could easily break it into smaller sections: the 1 mile marker, the aid station at 1.4, the bridge at 2.3, the turnaround at 3.1, the bridge again just before 4, the aid station at 4.75, the trail at 5 and the end of the lap at 6.25. That was my life for the final six laps. Just get to the next landmark.

I welcomed the chance to begin taking a walk break every 10 minutes during this lap and finished right on target, at 1:09.

Lap 4 - Miles 18.75-25
Run/Walk ratio goal: 8/2
Projected Time: 1:15
Actual Time: 1:07

Lap 4 was the best I felt all day. Early in the lap I would take my walk break every 8 minutes, but didn't feel like I needed the full two minutes of recovery so I would cut it short at just one minute. During the running portions I felt great and really tried to stretch my strides a little bit to challenge myself while remaining comfortable.

Normally during a marathon this is where I do a number of things, including bonking, cease sweating, and walking for long, long stretches. Not on this lap though, and not on this day. I broke into an almost sprint pace as I hit the parking lot for the final .2 miles (it wouldn't be the last time I would sprint to the a lap) and finished in 1:07, eight full minutes under my projected time.

Lap 5 - Miles 25-31.25
Run/Walk ratio goal: 8/2
Projected Time: 1:21
Actual Time: 1:14

My biggest fear, if you want to call it that, was laps five and six. This was uncharted waters for me and I had no idea how my body would react or respond to what I would ask it to do during these laps. I used some of my projected aid station time between laps 4 and 5 to stop at my car and start lathering up my legs with an icy-hot gel. While there I struck up a conversation with an elderly couple parked next to me. They were there to cheer on a family member and assured me they would be there all day, cheering for me to. It was nice to have a little adopted family there for support. They cheered for me every time I ran by as if I was one of their own and offered encouragement whenever I stopped at the car. It's one of the little things that made the day possible.

I owe a big thanks to my friend C, who sent me copies of her late-90's Jock Jams/Jock Rock collection. You remember those songs, don't you? Many of the songs are still played on stadiums today during timeouts and player introductions, but who can forget Will Smith, Coolio and the Backstreet Boys all jamming? And if you can have Dick Vitale yelling "America, are you serious? It is showtime baby!" in your ear as you pass the 26 mile mark, how can you not be pumped up? (Inconsequential note, I passed 26.2 at around 4:50, but didn't bother to stop to celebrate or make much not of it...that wasn't the goal today).

At the aid station in lap 5 I met up with a girl also running her first 50 miler. We had passed each other numerous times on the turnarounds and at the aid stations already and made chit chat as we left the aid station. I asked if she was following any sort of run/walk pattern and she said not really, so I told her what my lap plan was. We each had our music going, but it was helpful to have someone to run with to be accountable to. For instance, at the end of my running segment, I would tell her I was going to walk for one minute (or two). At one minute (or two), if I didn't look like I was starting to run again, she'd say let's go and get moving again. Occasionally I had to make sure she got moving again also. We ran the rest of the lap together and then lap 6 as well. Again, a small thing that made the day possible. Had I been left to run those uncharted miles by myself, maybe I get lazy and walk more than I should have.

Finished the lap in 1:14, another 7 minutes off of my projected time.

Lap 6 - Miles 31.25-37.5
Run/Walk ratio goal: 8/2
Projected Time: 1:21
Actual Time: 1:19

Much the same during this lap. Get to the next landmark, take the walk breaks, continue to refuel (more on refueling in a minute). My buddy drove up next to me about a mile into this lap to let me know he was there and would be waiting for me at the end of the lap. This was a shot of much needed adrenaline that served me well the remainder of the lap. 1:18, another 2 minutes off of projected time.

Lap 7 - Miles 37.5-43.75
Run/Walk ratio goal: 5/2
Projected Time: 1:21
Actual Time: 1:26

Definitely a slower lap. As far as I can remember I didn't walk any more than the 5/2 projected ratio, but my walk pace was probably slower than the 16 minute pace I was using in my calculation. I felt like my running pace was pretty consistent throughout the entire day though, including these final laps. My buddy K, was a great support and had brought all sorts of stuff that he thought I might have needed, including a leg roller and a sub sandwich, which I wasn't in the mood for, but appreciated a lot nonetheless. More than anything, his enthusiasm for what we (the girl I was running with stayed with us for lap 7) were doing was enough to keep me going strong. A 1:26 lap, 5 minutes slower than projected, but I made the cutoff to start the final lap! Hooray! (It wasn't close, I was almost 90 minutes ahead of the cutoff, but at the start of the day I wasn't sure). More than that, I kicked it into high gear the final 1/2 mile and ran a low 7-minute pace in the final stretch and felt awesome (mile 44 for those keeping track).

Lap 8 - Miles 43.75-50
Run/Walk ratio goal: 5/2
Projected Time: 1:21
Actual Time: 1:21

I'm not going to lie, this lap was a struggle. My running pace stayed where it should have been, but my walking pace was getting slower and slower. Just get to the mile marker, the aid station, the bridge, the turnaround etc. At the turnaround I knew I had just a 5k left. Then I got to the aid station and knew I had just 1.5 miles left. So close, yet the trail awaited, with all its uneven terrain and I was absolutely spent. It was here that K said probably the only thing he shouldn't have all day and that was to think about my family waiting for me at the finish line. That's certainly not a punishable offense by any stretch, but at that point it was all it took for me to get emotional for the first time all day and have to hold back tears. But on we went.

The last mile is no different from any other mile, in theory. Same distance, and on this course, a stretch I had already run seven times that day. But man, those little ups and downs on the trail through the forest seemed like flights of stairs and were really hurting (going up and down).

I was talking to myself quite a bit during this final stretch and K was pumping his fists, pushing me along. Just before the 6 mile mark of the final lap, I asked myself out loud "what do you have left?" I needed to know.

And so I did what any rational person who had just run 49.75 miles would do: I broke into a sprint, breaking out of the trees, into the parking lot, past my adopted family and towards the finish line where my wife and kids were waiting. I touched 6:33/mile during this stretch and crossed the finish line with a smile on my face. My final lap was right on my projected time.

Overall I finished in 10:19:21. Slightly slower than my projected overall time, but certainly in the "I'm freaking out because I can't believe I just did that" range. I definitely want to talk about my hydration and refueling strategy and experience, but I will leave that for another post because of the length here already.

So mark it down. I'm an ultra-marathoner. It's awesome, baby!

Autumn Leaves 50 Mile

2011-10-30T08:11:00.000-07:00

50 miles.

10 hours 19 minutes 35 seconds. And a smile on my face at the end.

Full recap later this week.

Final Thoughts Before Running 50 Miles

2011-10-28T17:55:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow is race day. 50 miles. And for perhaps the first time in a race I'm less concerned with my finishing time than I am with simply finishing. It's not since my very first half marathon, back in September 2009, that I have been more unsure of how a run was going to go. I've spent time working out various run/walk ratios for each lap (8 laps total), estimating how much my pace might decline in the later miles and trying to figure out how to replenish my energy stores on the go so there's something in the tank after 20 miles, and still I have zero idea what's going to happen tomorrow afternoon as I push past 25, 30, 40 miles.

I know I can run 25. No problem, especially with regular walk breaks early and often. That covers the first four laps. Two in the dark and two as the sun comes up on what should be a near-perfect morning to run.

I trust that I'll be able to handle the last two laps (miles 37.5-50). My buddy is going to run them with me and has been given cart blanche to do whatever he needs to do to keep me moving. As I told him a few days ago when I was going over my race plan with him, his one and only job is to make sure I don't quit.

That leaves laps five and six, miles 25-37.5. This is the great unknown. This is the portion of the race where I'll find out if my early-lap refueling has been effective or not. No idea what to expect here.

A few other quick thoughts:

My wife walked into the kitchen the other day and (obviously referencing tomorrow) asked what I was worth in terms of life insurance. She was joking. I think. But she seemed satisfied with the answer. Uhh...

I'm hoping to have my little sister tweeting updates throughout the day tomorrow. Check back for those. I'll put the twitter gadget at the top of this page so its easy to find.

Finally, I occasionally come across things that I either wish I would have written or had the ability to write. The following, from Jeff Edmonds at The Logic of Long Distance, is both. How do you prepare to run 50 miles? Like this...

_______________________________________________________________________________

This is how it works:

Training is doing your homework. It's not exciting. More often than not it's tedious. There is certainly no glory in it. But you stick with it, over time, and incrementally through no specific session, your body changes. Your mind becomes calloused to effort. You stop thinking of running as difficult or interesting or magical. It just becomes what you do. It becomes a habit.

Workouts too become like this. Intervals, tempos, strides, hills. You go to the track, to the bottom of a hill, and your body finds the effort. You do your homework. That's training. Repetition--building deep habits, building a runner's body and a runner's mind. You do your homework, not obsessively, just regularly. Over time you grow to realize that the most important workout that you will do is the easy hour run. That's the run that makes everything else possible. You live like a clock.

After weeks of this, you will have a month of it. After months of it, you will have a year of it.

Then, after you have done this for maybe three or four years, you will wake up one morning in a hotel room at about 4:30am and do the things you have always done. You eat some instant oatmeal. Drink some Gatorade. Put on your shorts, socks, shoes, your watch. This time, though, instead of heading out alone for a solitary hour, you will head towards a big crowd of people. A few of them will be like you: they will have a lean, hungry look around their eyes, wooden legs. You will nod in their direction. Most of the rest will be distracted, talking among their friends, smiling like they are at the mall, unaware of the great and magical event that is about to take place.

You'll find your way to a tiny little space of solitude and wait anxiously, feeling the tang of adrenaline in your legs. You'll stand there and take a deep breath, like it's your last. An anthem will play. A gun will sound.

Then you will run.

2011-10-24T13:05:00.001-07:00

I woke up in a panic sometime around 1am Saturday morning. One week away from an attempt at 50 miles, a few hours away from my last real run before that race (two 5-mile laps around my neighborhood) and two days after my boss (also known to me as "Dad") and multiple clients walked into our office visibly sick, I awoke with an acute pain in the back of my throat. Oh no, I thought as I jumped out of bed to guzzle some water, here it comes.

And came it did: the dreaded head-cold.

For the last 48 hours I've been working through this cold. Fortunately, I think I've done enough to speed it along as quickly as possible and this morning (Monday) I feel about 80%. It also hasn't been one of those energy-sapping colds with a fever attached that takes weeks to recover from. So that's nice.

I'm no doctor. But really, it shouldn't matter here, because a doctor can't do squat for a cold anyway. Anyway, here's my last 48 hours in a nutshell:

1. Lots of rest/sleep. 9-10 hours each night, a nap during the day and generally just taking it easy. (It helps to have a supportive wife)

2. Minimal eating on day 1 and very simple foods on day 2 (fresh fruit, vegetable broth, dry whole-wheat bread). Why force the body to digest food when it could be busy fighting off the cold. I still ended up eating about 1500 calories on Saturday and around 2000 on Sunday (about 1/3 to 1/2 of what I'm usually taking in on a daily basis), but it was all food that digested quickly and didn't require much energy.

3. A piping hot epsom salt bath each day. Sweat it out, baby.

4. As much water as I can handle. All of the time.

5. No medications. Again, why try to cover up the symptoms to simply feel good in the short-term while getting in the way of the body healing itself?

Yes, I felt horrible. But only for a few hours. I progressed through each part of the cold rapidly and now, 48 hours later, have the thing beat. I won't be running much this week, maybe a few miles on Thursday, and my preparation for Saturday will be much like the last two days: lots of rest, lots of water and lots of good wholesome food. And maybe a viewing of Rocky IV.

Marathon #9: St George Recap

2011-10-05T19:46:00.000-07:00

Let's start with the positives: I just finished my 6th marathon in the last seven months and my 9th in the last 16 months. The other positive was getting to spend the weekend with my good friend and his wife, who were running their first marathon. Boarding a bus in the wee hours of the morning and then spending two hours in the dark at the starting line is far more tolerable with friends and seeing them as they crossed the finish line together was awesome.

Unfortunately, weren't very many positive things going on once the race actually started. It was a rough day all the way around. One that caused me to reflect and evaluate if running marathons is something I want to continue to do.

Maintaining proper nutrition is always difficult for me when traveling. Sometimes I'll bring my blender with me and make my smoothies but not when I'm flying to a race. This leaves me concerned with getting enough calories in the hours leading up to race day. I'm apparently not disciplined enough to go to a grocery store and buy tons of fruit and keep me going, so instead I went to Olive Garden Thursday night (horrible service, slightly less than horrible food), pancakes and eggs for breakfast and the pasta dinner at the expo Friday night. I did have some bananas in my car but it was so darn hot that they were not appetizing at all. So no fruit and way too much stuff that I usually only have sparingly. Doesn't make for a quality pre-race diet.

Then there was the weather. Freaking hot. One of the lead volunteers at the finish line told me that in the 35 years of the race, this was the hottest day. Whether that's true or not I don't know, but the sun was relentless all day and there was no where to hide from it. It's so dry there anyway (especially compared to where I live here in the Willamette Valley) that I was drinking as much as I could handle at every aid station but still felt like I had a mouthful of chalk just a few seconds later. Dehydration was an issue during the second half of the race.

Veyo. Volcano and all.

The course itself was definitely scenic. From the Veyo volcano to Snow Canyon to St. George itself it's really a very pretty course. Friends of mine (who I'll get to in a minute) and I drove the course on Friday afternoon and felt pretty good about what we would encounter the next morning. For whatever reason though, I could have sworn I was running a completely different course. All of the course maps (and even my Garmin) shows the second half being almost completely downhill. My Garmin only measured 20 feet of elevation gain in the whole second half actually. Out there on the course though, on a long, hot day, it seemed like every time I came around a turn there was an incline in front of me. And every time I got to the crest of those inclines it seems like I would look out and see another one right in front of me. I can't explain it. But it was tough.

Proper rest is also difficult on the road. I've run races in other timezones before, but for some reason this one just kicked my butt. My friends and I loaded the bus at about 4:15am (3:15am my time). Before that though, I had been awake from basically 2am on (1am my time). By the time the race started at 6:45, I had been awake for nearly five hours. Tack on 4 1/2 hours for race time and it was a really long day by the time the last few miles came around.

So I finished in 4:30:59. Certainly not my best, but not my worst either. There was no excitement at this finish line though. Mostly just disappointment. I had higher expectations for this race given the course, the way I've felt in training and how I felt when I got on the plane Thursday afternoon. I spent some time Sunday thinking whether or not I wanted to continue to do this or if it was time to look for something else to do. I spoke with my friend to see how they were feeling and offered some encouragement, reminding him that they were marathoners now and that the muscle pains would start to subside in a day or two.

On Monday morning, still feeling a little depressed, I got a call from my friend. Usually we just text back and forth, so to receive a phone call was a little bit curious to me. The first words out of his mouth were, "I can't even walk down the stairs in my house I'm so sore today, so why do I have the urge to sign up and run another one? There was an enthusiasm in his voice that was infectious.

And with that, we spent the next 15 minutes talking about what race we could do next together, narrowing it down to Ogden in May, Utah Valley in June or possibly the Seattle Rock 'n' Roll at the end of June. I got off the phone and my outlook had completely changed. I was excited to look for my next race. The enthusiasm my buddy had had on the phone, despite the soreness he felt, reminded me of the excitement I had had after other races, when I couldn't wait to sign up for the next one. It reminded me that even though we hadn't run the race as quickly as we had hoped, we had still finished a freaking marathon and that we were doing things that the majority of people will never even attempt.

There have been people and experiences at various points along this road that have kept me interested, motivated and determined. Add my friend to that list. It came at a good time too because the Autumn Leaves 50 mile ultra marathon is now only 3 1/2 weeks away. It scares the dickens out of me and is the first time since I signed up for my very first half marathon that I really don't know how it will go of if I can actually do it. But I'll be there at the starting line prepared to find out.

Marathon #9: St George -- Keep It Simple

2011-09-28T18:18:00.000-07:00

The game plan for St George this weekend is simple: let gravity work.

After some hills in miles 7-11 it's all downhill to the finish line. Just keep moving and let gravity do what gravity does.

That's it.

Now back to watching the Red Sox hopefully not complete a total choke job while I pack...

**Update**

What a complete and utter failure by the Red Sox. I'm glad I have something to take my mind off of this epic disaster this weekend Maybe I'll get home on Sunday and realize that what I saw last night didn't actually happen. No way that actually happened. Right?...

Thanks for the concern, but...

2011-09-23T17:33:00.000-07:00

I've heard the questions and concerns before. I first heard them back in early 2010 as I was training for my first marathon. They cropped up again as people found out I was going to run my second marathon just three weeks after my first. And again earlier this year as I was preparing to run three marathons in 30 days. They come from various family members, friends and people I go to church with. From athletes, other runners and people who have never run a mile in their lives. In person, on Facebook or from my wife, who hears them from others.

The comments range from a simple, "you're crazy" to "the body just isn't meant to run that much/far" to "aren't you concerned about your knees/other body parts/overall health" and often times include an anecdote about some friend or family member who will never be the same again because of some injury or health problem sustained by running. It doesn't seem to matter that said friend/family member may have been a middle-aged woman or a new runner putting in too many miles too frequently or someone who for decades has eaten a well-balanced plate of the five food groups: fast food, doughnuts, soda, high fructose corn syrup and fat (hopefully I didn't offend anyone there. If so, it wasn't directed towards anyone in particular). None of this seems to matter because everyone with an Internet connection is now a board-certified all-knowing medical specialist who KNOWS that running a marathon, or multiple marathons, or a 50 mile ultra-marathon just isn't healthy.

Wait, 50 mile ultra-marathon?

Absolutely.

October 29th. Champoeg State Park. The Autumn Leaves 50mi/50k ultra.

Why now?

1. I've got the mileage base in place. Since March 5th I've run five marathons, with my sixth coming next weekend in St. George. Six marathons in just under seven months. There's a number of 20 mile training runs in that time frame as well.

2. Timing. After my 3 in 30 days Marathon Maniac-to-be campaign in June/July, I backed it off for a few weeks and spend some time swimming and cycling as I prepared for my first triathlon in early August. After that I was back into marathon mode getting ready for Pocatello. Pocatello and St. Georege are four weeks apart and St. George and the 50-miler are another four weeks apart. That gives me a week or so of rest and recovery, two weeks to get in six or seven solid runs and a race week where I won't do much of anything. Many of the training plans I found online suggested a long run of 26-30 miles 3-5 weeks in advance before tapering. St. George does this for me.

3. Looking ahead. Next year is when I'll probably decide if long-distance triathlons are in my short-term future or not. I've pegged two Olympic distance races that I might want to attempt (one in July, one in September) and while I will still run a couple of marathons, I probably won't run as many as I have this year. The miles and and a focus strictly on running may not be there. If 26.2 miles isn't something to disrespect, 50 miles doesn't want to be messed with either.

4. Health. I feel great. I haven't had even a minor running injury in more than a year, despite the mileage and workload (my pulled lower ab muscle in April was a freak thing from my spin class and only caused me to miss one long run, so I don't count that). I've settled into a good running weight after gaining 10 pounds of muscle prior to the Red Rock Canyon marathon in March (lots and lots of hills). I've given back two or three of those pounds, but have my body fat % has continued to drop. It took a few months to feel comfortable at this new weight, but I feel awesome these days. I can run fast when I want to (PR'ed in my last 5k). I can run uphill, downhill, short, medium or long distances and I can do it while feeling great the next day (and even same day).

5. A new challenge. I've done the marathon. I'm a dues-paying Marathon Maniac. I'm getting closer to the 4-hour barrier with each race. But I feel like I need a new challenge and I'm still an eternity away from even thinking about an Ironman race. This race less than 30 minutes from my house on a flat looped course. It's a 10k course that I'll run eight times. It means I'll pass my drop bag at the end of each loop and be able to gather myself and whatever I need before heading out to run another 6 miles (there's another aid station out in the middle of the loop that is passed twice per loop also). If ever there was a course for me to try to run 50 miles, this would be it I think.

So while I appreciate all of the concern for my knees, my health and my sanity just know that I know what I'm doing. I'm nearly two and a half years into this running thing and have learned to listen and take care of my body. I know what I can do and what I think I can do.

Dig deep.

Marathon #8: "Running the Gap" Pocatello Marathon Recap

2011-09-21T16:12:00.000-07:00

I'm going to skip all of the pre- and post-race stuff and just get right to it. The biggest thing I took away from this race last year was that under no circumstances could I allow myself to start too fast. The first 14 miles are downhill and while it was nice to run a fast first half last year, I paid for it on the back end.

The race had a pace team for the first time this year and given my pace problems in the past, I lined up next to Carol, the 4-hour pacer, who said she planned to run a steady 9:09 pace while walking through each of the aid stations. This sounded fine and good until the gun went off and Carol took off. It was too dark to see my Garmin, but I knew we were not running anything near a 9:09 pace. Barreling down the canyon, our 4-hour group of about 10 runners clocked an 8:19 Mile 1 and followed it with miles of 8:32, 8:33, 8:36 and 8:28. In fact, we didn't run a 9:09 mile until Mile 9, and it was the only mile in the entire first half slower than 9 minutes.

As we began the second half of the race Carol told those of us still with her (about six or so at that point) that we were about 5 minutes ahead of where we should be (no, really?) and that she was going to slow down. Myself and two other runners were comfortable at our pace though so we continued on. My thinking was that as long as I was running with people and the pace was comfortable I'd be alright. Its when I find myself alone in the later miles that trouble sets in. One of the guys I was with was running his 42nd state, the other, his first marathon.

As we started up the hill in Mile 17, the first-timer and I pulled away a little bit from our Canadian friend. Still under a 4-hour pace and feeling good making my way up the hill, I was in a good place. By the time I hit the top of the rolling hills at Mile 19 though, I had given up about 100 yards to my running partner as he powered his way up the hill. I wasn't sure if he would keep that pace, but more power to him -- he finished in 3:56.

My Canadian friend caught back up to me just after Mile 19 and we ran together for another mile before I took a few extra seconds at the Mile 20 aid station and he continued on. Carol caught up to me at Mile 21 and by the time we got to the top of the last hill at 21.5 she was 50 yards ahead of me. She was still a little bit ahead of the 4-hour pace, but I was working for every step at that point and didn't have enough left in the tank to catch back up to her.

I remained positive though and enjoyed the last few miles. My wife and kids were parked along the way in a few spots and offered encouragement and I eventually crossed the finish line in 4:08:21.

A couple of take-a-ways:

1. I held the 4-hour pace for more than 22 miles. I'm getting there. I'm close.

2. I was 61 seconds off of my PR set back in June in Seattle. This is either satisfying or frustrating depending on how I look at it. Frustrating in that I know I could have come up with 61 seconds somewhere along the way. Satisfying in that I still felt like I ran a pretty darn good race.

3. I cut 27 minutes off of my time from this race last year. 27 minutes! There's been improvement.

Overall, it was a good race and I'm glad I did it. I learned something things that will help me going forward. Here's the obligatory post-race photo:

2011-08-27T17:20:00.000-07:00

Can a marathon ever sneek up on you? I've known for a month or so now that the Pocatello marathon is on September 3rd. My family has been making Labor Day plans around it, so it's not like I didn't know the date. But after hitting snooze a couple of times a few mornings ago and then asking/telling myself what day it was (I find myself doing this frequently) a light went off and for whatever reason it dawned on me that September 3rd was a mere 11 days away. I proceeded to have a good workout, a good 7 miles of hills, but I knew that my training was pretty much done at that point. I've since had a decent 8-miler on Thursday and a 9 mile final tune-up run this afternoon (in the blazing heat). There's still a few shorter runs that await me between now and next weekend but nothing of any consequence. I am what I am at this point and what I am is a runner who doesn't feel like he's put in as many miles my previous 7 marathon starts.

It's not that I've been lazy, I've just been doing other things. For many weeks I was devoting a lot of time to learning to swim. I also have been doing a fair amount of cycling since I bought a bike at the beginning of the month. My long Saturday runs the past few weeks consisted of a 12-miler followed by a 10k race, a solid 20-miler, a 5k as part of a sprint triathlon, 10 miles last weekend, when other commitments prevented anything longer and then the 9 miles today. My Tuesday/Thursday runs have been shorter than normal as well, usually in the 6-8 mile range rather than the 8-10 range. But they've been more focused -- a day devoted to speed work, a day of hills etc. The total mileage hasn't been too much less, but it feels like less. Like I said though, its too late to do anything about it now. I am what I am.

Maybe it will be a good thing though, the cross-training. There's an article out there currently, and a response from Amby Burfoot from Runner's World, about whether or not cross-training is effective or not. Personally I don't really care if it's helpful or not. Until a month or so I had never done any sort of cross-training. My time to exercise and train is limited and the time I did have I was going to spend running. After 25 solid months of this, though, I can tell that I've been approaching a bit of a burnout point, so the option to cycle or swim has been good for me. I do it for fun and for variety. It also allows me to get a bit more sleep, as I can go out for a quick, hard 7 mile ride in 20 minutes or so or spend 30 minutes in the pool -- much shorter than the hour minimum I feel like I need to run to really feel like I got a good workout in.

Will less miles, more focused training runs and more cross-training have a positive effect when the gun goes off next Saturday morning or will I be hating life during the 2nd half of the race? We'll see. Here's last year's Pocatello Marathon recap.

Tri For Life Triathlon Recap

2011-08-19T21:36:00.001-07:00

I felt as prepared as I could be for my first triathlon. Unknowns are always to be expected though, particularly for a first experience with a new event, and the Tri For Life event a few weeks ago was no different.

My swimming has come a long way in the last few weeks. The lifeguard at the YMCA pool has been giving me one or two things to think about each time I show up and its helping for the most part. Still though, some days are (much) better than others and I haven't been able to figure out what the common denominators are. Some days just feel like such a struggle, so sloppy, hard to breathe, etc that I'm out of the pool in 10 minutes. It's just not meant to be that day. Other days it feels so smooth and effortless. Given all of this, I wasn't sure what to expect once I jumped in the pool on race day.

The other thing I didn't expect was the length of the pool (and the distance of the swim). The website had said 500 yards and the YMCA pool I swim in is 20 yards long, so I had an idea in my mind about how long it should take me. What I didn't count on was a 500 meter swim and a 50-meter length pool. I walked into the pool area and froze as I looked down to the far end, which seemed a mile away at that point.

Once the actual race started I tried my best to stay relaxed but for the first 3 laps it wasn't happening. I found comfort in the fact that for about 35 meters I could put my feet down if I needed (not that I did, but the thought that I could was comforting). Unfortunately when I was going out on lap 2 I let my mind wander just for a moment at the time I entered the diving area where the depth drops from 5 feet to 12 feet almost instantly. Already struggling to stay relaxed, trying to find a good rhythm and just get the end of the pool, this caught me off guard and sent me into a minor panic attack. I tensed up, my breathing went erratic and I just did what I could to get to the wall so I could calm down a bit. After a few seconds I pushed off and set out back towards to other end. Laps 4 and 5 were actually fairly comfortable. I think my muscles were properly warmed up by then and I was basically swimming by myself, as the other three people in my lane were a 1/2 length or so ahead of me. I finished the last lap strong and jumped out of the pool in a time of 12:45. Not great. Only in the 25th percentile for all of the participants actually. But I finished it and I felt confident that my two stronger events were still to come.

I flew through my 1st transition in less than a minute. I hadn't practiced the actual transitions much, but I had run through them in my head over and over again and it seemed to do the trick. I was in and out in a flash and on my way on the bike.

Loved the cycling portion. Loved the fact that I was able to push hard for the entire course (13 miles rather than the stated 12.5, but whatever) and grew in confidence as I caught up to and passed almost all of the people who had been in my wave during the swim. It was a fairly flat course, something I don't get to enjoy anywhere around where I live, and it was nice just to set a gear, pump my legs and settle in. I made up considerable time during this portion of the race and finished with the 15th fastest cycling time overall which I was very pleased with (there was a group of 5 or 6 stud riders with the $3k+ bikes who blew every one away and finished in the 33-35 minute range, but I was solidly in the next group of riders and finished right at 40 minutes).

Transition 2 was even quicker than Transition 1 (thanks in large part to elastic shoe laces which I had just put in my shoes the night before -- love them -- won't ever go back to regular laces). My running shoes have never felt so good. Even feeling great about my ride, it was still nice to get back to what I knew best. I took off out of the transition area determined to give myself the first 1/4 mile or so to let my legs readjust to the new motions. Still though, I felt SO slow. But then I looked down at my Garmin and saw I was cruising along at a 7:30/mile pace. What?!? I've pondered this more in the last week, but my only explanation is that my turnover rate on the bike was such that once I started running, I felt slow...but it was still relatively fast compared to other times I run. Does that make any sense? I wasn't about to complain or question it during the race though, I just went with it.

About half way through the 5k I could tell I was starting to get a little fatigued (oh yeah, no water stations on the bike or run course even though there were some advertised -- that may have had something to do with it) when a guy went flying past me. He was taking such small, quick, gliding steps while I was trying to take a normal running step, a little bit longer and using a little bit more quad muscle. I watched him for a few moments as he ran away from me and then decided to try the quick glide step myself. Much more comfortable without giving up any pace. Also something to ponder for future triathlon events.

The final 1/4 mile I kicked a bit, caught up to and passed a guy who I had started the swim with, had almost caught on the bike and who I had been within eye-shot of the entire run. I finished the run (3.4 miles rather than 3.1) at an 8:04/mile pace and finished overall in 1:23:01, good enough for 24th place overall out of approximately 90 participants.

I really enjoyed the triathlon. Even with the little mishap in the pool, I basically did what I thought I would do in each aspect of the race. I could definitely improve my swim. Knowing now how I felt at the end of the ride I could probably push harder there. And getting comfortable during the run would definitely help. I would do it again. In running comparisons, this was my first 5k. I'm not sure I'm ready for a 10k quite yet (swimming would be the only thing holding my back), but I'd do another 5k. Baby steps.

Now its back to business getting ready for a couple of marathons. Pocatello is in two weeks. Trying to train for a marathon and sprint triathlon at the same time was difficult, but now I'm focused again.

Getting That Itch

2011-07-25T14:32:00.000-07:00

Two weeks. That's how long it took me to officially recover from 3 in 31 days. I know this because this is when I was putting my training schedule together for the St. George Marathon on October 1st and thought to myself, "11 weeks...that's a long time. I need something to do in the meantime. Hey, the Pocatello Marathon is Labor Day weekend. Maybe I'll do that too!"

So we're going to Pocatello in 6 weeks. Taking the family, visiting some family in Pocatello and Salt Lake and making a weekend out of it. For our family, which isn't the most spontaneous group or biggest vacation takers by any stretch of the imagination, this was a big deal.

After looking at the calendar though, I started to have some doubts. Gee, only six Saturdays of training before that...one of them is the triathlon...another is a local 5k/10k that our office is helping to sponsor...I'm not going to put a 20 miler in the week before so that Saturday is gone...am I going to be able to get enough training in to be ready for this? I promptly got on my computer this morning and signed up. I'll work on the training details later. One answered question leads to another unanswered one though: Pocatello and St. George are 29 days apart. And that would give me five marathons in just over four months. The next Maniac level requirement is six in six months...I wonder if there's a third marathon in between those two races...oh wait, there is... Can I Make It Happen?

With a paid race entry fee to any marathon I choose from my parents as a birthday gift, the only thing in my way is if I can/want to fork out money for a plane ticket. TBD...

Intro to Cycling

2011-07-25T14:31:00.000-07:00

My swimming is improving and the running I have no problem with but that still leaves one event of the triathlon unaddressed: Cycling. I've never owned or ridden a road bike. In fact, I think I can count on one hand how many times I've ridden a bike since I had two stolen from me five or six years ago. I quickly learned that researching bikes is not like researching running shoes, which you could do fairly well in an hour or so. Not so with bikes. Recognizing I was in way over my head I called a friend who knows his way around a bike. I started searching Craiglist and other sites trying to find something used that wouldn't require a month's paycheck to pay for, emailing my friend links every so often asking what he thought of them. He also graciously let me borrow his own bike and indoor training stand to start getting used to riding.

I took the bike out on the road the next day and needless to say, it was a little shaky at first. The road bike is a different beast, a little squirrely on the front wheel at first and so so smooth going down a hill. I put in some good miles and loved pushing myself extremely hard on the indoor trainer for 45 minutes or so out in the garage (my kids kept poking their heads out the door wondering if I was alright).

After a week or so I finally spotted a bike that my friend agreed would be good for what I needed at a price that was reasonable. I went to check it out, made an offer, watched the seller squirm because he didn't want to sell it to me at that price, kept my mouth shut as he was waiting for me to apparently offer more and then handed him an envelope of cash containing my original offer after he had agreed. I now have a bike. It fits, it feels good and I'm getting more comfortable riding it.

Learning to Swim

2011-07-25T14:30:00.003-07:00

I've done a brave thing this month: I started to swim. For someone who doesn't swim doing so can swing somewhere between embarrassing and horrifying, depending on the day, my energy level and the number of people within view. I struggled through the first couple of days, completely out of breath after just 50 yards. I'd catch my breath and then do it again. I'd finish my 500 yards, get out of the pool frustrated and wonder if I would ever come back. And then I came across an article under a Google search entitled, "If I'm so fit, why is swimming so hard?"

I read the five page PDF wondering where this gem had come from. It described me and my struggles precisely. I later traced it to a book call "Total Immersion" which I promptly check out from the library. Over the next 24 hours I plowed through 120 pages, nodding my head, creating a picture in my head of what the perfect swim stroke should look like. I watched YouTube videos and marveled at how easy the subjects made it look. On page 121 I came to the first drill: float on your back.

I called my wife and told her I wasn't sure whether I wanted to throw the book across the room or cry. 120 pages of gold and the first thing I'm being asked to do is the thing I absolutely cannot do: float. (The second and third drills, by the way, called for me to float on my side). Frustrated but determined I skimmed the rest of the book and was about to put it away when I stumbled across two pages which had five simple visualizations to keep in mind. They described the picture I had created in my head exactly. Following the visualizations was a note to those who struggle with the drills and how if they did nothing but pay attention to these visualizations, they'd probably be alright. Good enough. I went to work and lo and behold, swimming got easier.

I'm still a massive work in progress but I've got my basic mechanics down. Various lifeguards at the YMCA have offered tips and advice (which I appreciate) and slowly but surely I'm getting better. Even with my less than perfect form I know I can finish the 500 yards I'll need for my first triathlon next month, but now it's about doing it well.

29 for #29

2011-07-25T14:30:00.001-07:00

The 4th of July also happens to be my birthday. So in addition to running a marathon, becoming eligible to be a Maniac, attending a parade and getting together for a big family reunion that day I had also planned to run 2.8 more miles to make it an even 29 miles run on my 29th birthday. After the marathon I drove 90 minutes back to my hometown for the local parade festivities (always a treat, especially if you're from the area). After the parade my wife and I ventured over to the university track and I put in the additional miles. I actually felt pretty good and could have gone on (despite the on-track temp pushing 95-100 degrees) but 29 was the number I was aiming for and that's what I did. Happy Birthday self. See you next year at 30.

Catching Up...

2011-07-25T14:29:00.000-07:00

I've got a handful of updates from the last three weeks that are going to come fast and furious here. Let's get going...

Marathon #7: Foot Traffic Flat Marathon - July 4th, 2011

My third marathon in 31 days. First the actual race. It was a warm day, but an early 6:30 start helped to alleviate this problem slightly. The full marathon course consisted of a 12+ mile out and back (covering miles 5-17) and then 9 more miles around Sauvie Island back to the finish line at the pumpkin patch. I struggled through the middle portion of the race and was pretty gassed by about mile 17. The heat, the boring course and possibly some lingering effects from the previous two marathons. I was using a run/walk approach for a few miles and was being passed each time I walked by a guy who was keeping a pretty consistent pace. When I resumed running again I would pass him and build a slight lead and then he would pass me again the next time I walked. Just before the Mile 22 marker, as I was catching back up to him, I noticed that he had stopped running and was walking very slowly, head down, hands dropped to his side. I recognized the look instantly.

I caught up to him, asked him how he was doing and received the obligatory, "doin' good" answer. I said I didn't believe him, but told him I had been impressed by how consistent he had been the last few miles. His parents had been following closely behind on bicycles offering him support and water but were now next to him trying to talk him into continuing to run. I offered a few more words of encouragement and then said, "alright, let's go. We'll finish this together." I'm not sure whether he wanted to or not, but he started running again and together we ran the last four miles. After telling me it was his first marathon I related my first marathon experience, where I hit the same wall in about the same place before a friend came up from behind me and talked me through the last few miles, turning what had been a completely miserable day into positive experience. I honestly doubt I would have ever done another marathon if not for my friend's assistance that day. Instead, I'm now addicted to them. I don't know if this guy will ever run another marathon, but I know he was smiling and tearing up at the finish line as he looked at his medal and had his picture taken.

I finished the race in 4:18, not a PR but not a PW either. However, given the weather, the fatigue and running the last few miles slower than I normally would have (as well as having the experience of helping someone get across the finish line), I'll take it.

I submitted my Marathon Maniac application the next day and now have the title of Marathon Maniac #4113.

I won't spend much time on the non-running parts of this race but I will share a few brief thoughts. At the outset I have to say that this race gets glowing reviews. Most people love it. It's not really my thing though. For a race that tries to come off as folksy, hometown-ey, low-budget, eco-friendly or whatever, it sure isn't priced like it. $75 plus $15 extra for a shirt. Not a terrible price for a marathon, but too high in my opinion for the amenities that came with it. I thought the course was pretty boring. The aid stations were nothing more than a folding table with one or two people standing there holding only one or two cups at at time no matter how many runners were approaching. The medal is pretty cheap looking (original, but cheap). The post-race food spread was lacking. I realize that all the half marathoners and 5k-ers finished before me, but there were still several hundred people still out on the course when I finished. That said, I enjoyed a 50 cent hot dog, a bottle of water and a small serving of strawberry shortcake. There was no other food in sight. I could tell that some people love this race and probably participate every year. I'm glad I did it once, but I won't be back.

Impossible Things

2011-07-04T16:00:00.000-07:00

Three years ago today I ran my first race, a 2.6 mile 4th of July fun run prior to my hometown's annual parade, without a single day of training. The following year I did it again, except I spent a few weeks training for it. At the time, the word "marathon" was synonymous with the words "crazy," "insane," and "impossible" in my mind.

In the two years since, I've completed seven marathons (all in the last 13 months including three in the last 30 days), six half marathons, multiple 5k, 10k, and 15k races, 18 runs of 20 miles or more and more than 2500 miles total. What was once crazy, insane and impossible is now just what I do for fun.

Two weeks after the fun run (the "mini-marathon" as it's called) in 2009 I toed the line at my first 5k race. At the time I figured I could probably do it, but it was a daunting task.

In less than 6 weeks I will make my first attempt at a triathlon. The 20k bike ride and 5k run don't concern me a bit (despite not owning a bike at the moment). It's the 500yard swim that gives me the creeps. Why? Because I sink (my wife says I'm dense).

I've never really been a swimmer. The swim check at summer camp was always a struggle. I can play around in a pool and get from one end to the other if need be. If my canoe or raft flips over, I can get back to it. I can jump off of a dock and make it back. I even made it across the Deschutes River and back as a teenager (without question the stupidest thing I've ever attempted -- very much could have ended tragically for me, my brother, or both of us).

In short, I've swam laps in a pool exactly three times in my life (all in the last two weeks). It's the swimming equivalent to where I was in my running prior to that first 5k.

I received an email from a friend last week containing details and pictures of his first Ironman triathlon completed last week in Coeur d' Alene, ID. The very first thought through my mind? "He's insane. That'd be impossible."

Interpret that how you'd like.

I don't know if I'm committed to doing something like that just yet, but I'm signed up for the triathlon equivalent of my first 5k on August 13th. We'll see how it goes. If I do decide to go in the Ironman direction, it may take me another two years to get there. It would be a long difficult road. However, I would know that I've already taken one "crazy, insane and impossible" and turned it into a "done that."

Stay tuned...

Running Vs. Racing

2011-07-01T06:38:00.000-07:00

It's been an extremely wet spring and start to summer here in the Willamette Valley. For someone who loathes the rainy, grey, dismal winters, June - September is supposed to be what keeps me here in Oregon. June did not do its part. Tuesday was beautiful however. As I made my way across town through traffic yesterday evening there were handfuls of runners going in all directions. I sat in my car, stopped at the n-teenth red light and just thought, "I really want to run today."

Unfortunately, I couldn't. Or rather, I shouldn't have. Though the soreness from Saturday's Seattle Rock'n'Roll Marathon had worn off, I still had fatigued legs and knew that with another marathon just 6 days away it would be stupid to try to go run any distance. And so I started thinking, which do I enjoy more: running or racing? The answer is both.

I know that if I don't have a goal to work towards in the form of a race that my training will suffer. I suspect that my motivation will drop, days will be missed and training will not be as intense. Hence, in 2010 I ran marathons in June and September and a couple of halfs in November. I started 2011 running a marathon in early March, followed by this current set of three in June/July and then I'll run the St. George Marathon on October 1st. These races are spaced far enough apart to get some rest and recovery in between but not so far apart that I can just ignore my training for weeks at a time.

On the flip side is my love of running. And days like yesterday make me realize just how much I like to run and how difficult it is to feel like I can't because a race is quickly coming up on the calendar. I love to get out and run and think it's pretty cool that I could go out on any day and knock out 10 or 12 or 15 miles without batting an eye. But when it comes to race day, I've paid the money, done the traveling and prepared in every other way to perform as best I can on THAT day. To do that, sacrifices sometimes need to be made along the way, even if one of them is to NOT run.

2011 Seattle Rock 'n' Roll Marathon Recap

2011-06-29T18:12:00.000-07:00

Let me start with the expo Friday and then move quickly to the actual race. As we (mom/dad/brother/sister -- all ran the half) headed up to Seattle there was a post on the race Facebook page announcing that Scott Jurek would be doing a Q&A at the expo. Good stuff, but he was on in an hour and we were still 2 hours away. We figured by the time we got inside he would be gone so we quickly dismissed any thoughts of hearing Scott or meeting him.

The Rock'n'Roll check-in has been a breeze both years. They really have this down to a science. After arriving and getting our bib numbers, shirts and swag bags, we set off into expo. As my brother an I were wandering through the grossly overpriced race apparel I came around the side of clothing rack and who is sitting at a table five feet from me? Scott Jurek. He was signing autographs and talking to people and the line was only 6 or 8 people long, so I told my brother we were getting in line. He wasn't quite as excited but he was playing photographer so we got in line and eventually my parents and sister joined us.

Scott Jurek, ultramarathon legend

Scott Jurek: Nicest. Guy. Ever. Took time to talk to each person, ask different questions, and actually hold a conversation with each person rather than just signing the stack of pictures in front of him and moving on. Whenever someone wanted a picture he got up from his chair, came around to the other side of the table, took his time, kept talking and made sure the picture snapped was a good one before returning to his chair. Genuinely good guy. Back when this whole running thing started (just over two years now), most, if not all, of my family passed around a copy of Born To Run, which prominently features Scott and his experiences in the documented race. I don't know if the book got us all to start running, but it definitely got us through the initial hurdles of becoming regular and consistent runners.

Last Minute advice from Scott Jurek

When I came to the front of the line I asked him if he would sign my bib number instead of the picture. More than alright he said but before signing it he started talking to me about my running. After a time he said he was going to write "Dig Deep" on the bottom of my bib (and then sign the top) so that when I looked down at it late in the race it would serve as a reminder. He did the same for the rest of my family and then we posed for a couple of pictures. Cool stuff.

Travis @ Finally Airborne

When it comes to the actual race I don't have much to report in the first 15 miles. Aside from meeting up with Travis from Finally Airborne and passing my dad and two other people I knew from home on the bridge, the first 15 miles were pretty uneventful. I tried to treat the whole race like any other Saturday run and for the first 15 miles, that's really what it was. Nothing of significance here, just cruising along at a good pace feeling good. I pushed passed the halfway mark in a fairly easy 1:53:12. The Mile 15 marker comes up after leaving the downtown area and getting back onto the freeway heading towards Aurora Ave. It was here that I had the thought, "ok, this is where the race really starts."

I knew what to expect the final 11 miles: a couple miles of hills, two out and backs and a run to the finish line. The hill going north on Aurora Ave (approx miles 16-18) was taxing, but after running it last year I was more prepared for its length. Though I took a few brief walking breaks through the aid stations, I really tried not to walk. I knew I would be in the ballpark of 4 hours if I just kept going and that was the goal. I'm actually really pleased with how I pushed through the thoughts I had to walk, even if it meant slowing my pace slightly.

I didn't need to look at my split times from last year to know that I was running almost almost an identical race from a time perspective (once I got home and looked at how close they were, it's very interesting, as least to me). Last year I crossed the final split marker, at mile 24, 3:42:00. This year: 3:41:28. I knew that if I was going to beat last years time (and PR), I had work to do. I kept pushing, despite wanting to walk. When I finally turned off of the freeway onto the exit ramp leading to Quest field I was exactly 7 minutes from last year's time of 4:07:22. I knew about how far I had left and knew that it was going to be awfully close. I gave it all I had left (and started weaving in and out of people as I passed them). 6 minutes...5 minutes...4 minutes...man,it was going to be close. 3 minutes...2 minutes...I turned the final corner and could see the finish line up ahead. With my legs on fire and wanting to walk for just a second but knowing I couldn't, I sprinted (relative term after 26 miles) down Occidental Ave. 30 seconds...15 seconds...ahhh!!!....and through the finish line at 4:07:20. PR by 2 seconds.

There's a certain brain fogginess that kicks in immediately upon finishing. It seems like I'm thinking completely rationally all the way up until the finish line. I'm calculating split times and pace and generally aware of my surrounding, but once I cross, get handed a couple bottles of water, get my metal, and sit down about 20 yards later, its like my brain needs time to readjust. I saw my brother standing along the fence about 20 feet away looking at me, but it was all a daze. After a few minutes I got up, inhaled 7 or 8 bananas, a couple of oranges and about a half gallon of water and I walked off fine.

It was a good race. I did PR, but still didn't break 4 hours. I did all I could do though and so I'm pleased with the outcome. As I replayed the race in my mind on the trip home I couldn't come up with any point in the race where I slacked off and mailed it in. Maybe I could have walked a little bit less through the aid stations but that would have saved me an extra minute or two at best. I know I didn't leave 7 minutes out on the course and so I'm content with the result.

In other news, while at the expo my youngest sister decided to sign up for the marathon next year if I would help train her. She's going to learn what sweating at 5:30am on a Saturday feels like. My parents also both signed up for the full and my wife may sign up for it too (more on that later. Stay tuned...).

Committing to Seattle RnR 2012!

It's a quick turnaround this week, with only 9 days between Seattle and the Foot Traffic Flat marathon on July 4th. Probably won't do much more than a 2 or 3 mile run later this week while trying to recover/prepare. July 4th also happens to be my 29th birthday so at some point in the day, after the marathon, I'm going to run 2.8 more miles to make 29 for the day. Just because.

2011 Newport Marathon Recap

2011-06-07T21:15:00.000-07:00

Two weeks ago I posted the anticipated weather forecast for Saturday's marathon. It called for showers, strong winds, stronger gusts, and temperatures in the low 50s. I lamented at the time that only in Oregon does the weather in June seem like late winter/early spring.

On Saturday morning as I stepped outside of my hotel room around 5:30 to gage the weather before I got dressed, there was an absence of something: cold. Generally the Oregon coast has a chill in the early-morning air, even during the summer. The breeze tend to amplify that chill. Not on this day. The air was warm and the gentle breeze warmer. I knew then that I would need to start adjusting my expectation for the race, as conditions were certainly not going to be ideal. I was not alone in this thought, as there was lots of pre-race chatter about the weather and how warm it was then and how hot it would get (in contrast, as I waited at the starting line last year I did so in the fog, shivering underneath my long-sleeve shirts and gloves).

The weather was the story of the day, no doubt. Reports are that at one point it reached 82 degrees on the course. Perhaps not so bad in the abstract but in context it might as well have been 105 degrees. Newport hadn't had a day of 60 degrees in 2011. In the Willamette Valley, where I live, its been 50s and cloudy/rainy for months it seems like, though there has been a day of sun here and there the past few weeks. Bottom line, there's been no training in any sort of heat and nobody was prepared for a heatwave to show up on race day. More on this later.

Miles 1-5 went exactly according to plan, with mile splits of between 8:24 and 8:40. It would have been a beautiful morning for running if there weren't 21 miles still to go. This is the prettiest section of the course in my opinion. There's a few hills but you get to run through the streets of the beachfront shops and then down towards the ocean at the entrance to Nye Beach before making your way back to Yaquina Bay State Park where the starting line is located. After that you make your way under the bridge and into the heart of the waterfront area, running along the boardwalk past the various seafood processing plants (worst. smell. ever.) past the finish area and out of town to run along Yaquina Bay. It's really a nice few miles and goes by very fast.

Leaving town also means leaving most of the crowd support behind. I was able to maintain my planned pace through miles 6-11 and was feeling pretty good to this point, but the sun had come up over the hills and was becoming more intense. I was mixing in brief walking breaks every mile and was taking as much Gatorade as I could handle at every aid station, knowing I was going to need every drop of it later.

Miles 12 and 13 were a challenge and I fell below my planned pace a bit, but little by little I had banked enough time in the first 11 miles that I was able to reach the 13.1 marker right at 1:57, right where I wanted to be (and 9 minutes SLOWER than last year, when I made the deadly mistake of going out too fast). Unfortunately, despite my efforts to hydrate, I was starting to become dehydrated.

Mile 14 went smoothly as did Mile 15 for the most part. But between Mile 15 and Mile 16 a few things happened. There was an aid station at 15.2, a turnaround point at 15.4 and the same aid station coming back at 15.6. Because I was walking through each aid station, making sure I was drinking generous amounts of Gatorade, Mile 16 was slower that I would have preferred.

During Miles 17 and 18 my pace continued to slide. I had dropped into and 11 minute pace by walking the first part of each mile and trying to run the rest. It was so hot at this point. I knew I was dehydrated, even though I was taking as much as 20 ounces of Gatorade per station. I could feel myself getting a little loopy, my mind a little foggy and so I made my 2nd to last conscious decision of the day: slow down and make sure I finish. Whatever it takes to do that. I was not going to reach my goal of sub 4-hours at this point and it was important to take care of myself, manage each mile and get to the finish line.

It was about this time that I saw another runner being helped into a medical vehicle and taken off the course. She wouldn't be the last. In the last 8 miles I saw no less than 7 medical vehicles carrying runners off the course, and I'm sure there were more after I finished. It's always an unfortunate sight to see. You wish you could do something for them but there isn't. I felt particularly bad for the lady I passed at 25.1 miles. She was talking to the medical personnel and just couldn't go on. I so badly wanted to tell her she was so close and just to hang on a little longer, but she couldn't.

I worked my way through miles 19-25, walking when I needed to and running as far as I could, trying to keep a nice consistent pace, whatever pace that happened to be. Now that I've recovered and I'm thinking straight again, I question why I didn't and/or couldn't run harder or faster or longer. Why did I think I needed to walk so much? But being in the moment, being that tired and that dehydrated, my thoughts were far different then they are now looking back at it from the outside.

Just before Mile 26 I turned my music back on (I had turned it off around mile 18) and forced myself to turn up the pace (my last conscious decision of the day). I worked my way up the hill to the 26 Mile marker and knew at that point it was all downhill to the finish line. Calves cramping, I barreled towards the line all by myself, having passed everyone near me at the crest of the hill. I crossed the finish line and was done (I ran the final 1/3 mile at a 7:27 pace, which I'm pleased with, even if it was downhill). Because of the way the finish area is set up the crowds in the last 200 yards are concentrated and loud. Running down the hill by myself into this crowd that was cheering only for me was a cool experience.

Dehydrated and worn out but still a finisher

I finished in 4:34:38. Not a PR, but not a PW either. I was actually 15 seconds slower than last year (my mistake, I thought I finished last year in 4:35:23, not 4:34:23...had I known the correct time I would have worked harder to beat it), but I knew I had made progress. Despite the conditions, I had run basically the same time. And as opposed to last year, when I didn't pass a single person in the final 8 miles, this year I was consistently picking off people in front of me.

I felt like I did everything I needed to do to be prepared. There are things I can't control, the weather being one of them. But of the things I could control, I feel like I did so pretty well. I finished 369 out of 705 overall and ran faster than the average time of all the finishers.

Now it's recovery time, but not too much. The Seattle Rock 'n' Roll marathon is just around the corner (now just 18 days away) and the Foot Traffic Flat marathon is just 9 days after Seattle. I'm feeling pretty good today and will be back on schedule running normal miles on Thursday.

Thanks for following along. I'm looking forward to the next one.

Back For More

2011-06-02T06:34:00.000-07:00

As I toed the starting line of the 2010 Newport Marathon, my first marathon, I thought I was prepared. In many ways I was: I had put in the appropriate amount of miles, including three 20-milers. I was eating healthy and had tapered as the experts said I should. I had spent time thinking positive thoughts, envisioning various parts of the race and what it would feel like. I imagined the feeling of crossing the finish line. I had a goal in mind. I thought I was as prepared as I could be.

And then the starting gun went off and for the next 4 hours and 35 minutes I endured the butt-kicking of a lifetime.

I finished, but not the way I had hoped or imagined. And now a year later I'm ready to do it again.

I'm terrible at golf, but I tend to watch the biggest tournaments on TV occasionally. Quite often the commentators will comment on a player's ability to manage the course, identifying which holes to attack, which to play conservatively and groups of holes that can make or break a round. Those that rise to the top of the leader board are those who can manage the course the best, minimize their mistakes and execute a solid plan. Managing 26.2 miles is no different.

I'm more prepared to manage the course this year. Mentally I can break the miles up into 2, 3 and 4 mile increments with the aid stations, halfway mark, and turnaround points. I know where the inclines are. I know how many turns there are through the city streets in the first four miles (18 of them) -- and how much further I had to run last year because I ended up on the outside of many of those turns. I have a good idea of which miles will be faster and which will be slower and have what I believe is a solid plan to navigate those differences and finish in a desirable time.

Physically I'm better prepared with another year of consistent and constant running under my belt. Instead of one year of running experience I now have two. My body feels good and strong. I have a more realistic goal in mind this year due largely to having run 20 miles or more 16 times instead of just the three I had done prior to last year's race.

All the training is done now. I'll leave for Newport tomorrow and make my way to the starting line early Saturday morning. Is a 26.2 mile sub-4 hour victory lap through the streets of Newport in store? We'll see.

2011-05-22T19:11:00.000-07:00

Having grown up in Oregon, I don't give the weather forecast any serious credibility until a few days out, as it always seems to change. Still though, I was none to pleased to see this come up for Newport on race day, now 12 days away. Looks...Oregonish.

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2011-05-14T13:50:00.001-07:00

Perhaps it's different for others, but for me there is nothing enjoyable or pleasant about a 20 mile training run. It's no fun in the beginning, knowing you're in for a long haul. Its no fun with when you get to mile 10 and realize you're only halfway done. And there certainly is no joy at the end, when everything hurts. That's not to confuse joy with satisfaction. For while there is no fun in a 20 miler, there is an immense amount of satisfaction, knowing that you have persevered through a necessary evil on your way to running a marathon. I won't rehash all of the reasons why a 20 mile training run is more difficult than a marathon, you can read them HERE, but it is in my mind.

That said, as of this morning I'm done with them for a while. I looked back yesterday and calculated that today's run was my 12th training run of 20 miles or more (plus the four marathons) and they don't get any easier. I've put in three 20 milers in the last five weeks, including two in back to back weeks, to get ready for my three marathons in 30 days. And while they are a necessary evil, there's a pattern that has emerged that I will take with me into race day. It is this: I have consistently been in the 2:55-2:58 range on all three of these recent runs. Which means to me that if I can run the first 20 miles of the marathon at 9 minutes/mile or better, that I can run/walk the last 6.2 at 10 minutes/mile or better and meet my goal of 4 hours.

That's comforting to me because I feel like it gives me a cushion in the final 6.2 miles. I feel confident that even if I walk the first 1/10 of the mile that I should still be able to finish the mile in under 10 minutes. I'll have the next three weeks to think about this strategy in greater detail, but for now the work is done. A couple of intense but shorter mileage weeks ahead and then I'm on the doorstep of Marathon #5.

2011-05-12T13:50:00.000-07:00

Pace teams. Love 'em or hate 'em? In my one and only experience with them I give them an incomplete. I ran with a pace team in Seattle last year, three weeks after a somewhat disastrous (at the time) showing in Newport. I felt like my best chance to reach my goal in marathon #2 was to avoid at all costs a big problem I had in marathon #1. Namely, running mile after mile by myself. Granted, there were 27,000 more people running in Seattle (at least for the first half), but I felt like if I had someone I could stick with who knew what they were doing that this would give me the best chance for success.

I decided to start with the 3:45 pace leader. There was a group of about 12 of us (though there were probably many more keeping any eye on our leader and adjusting their pace accordingly). I held the pace fairly well for the first 10 miles but miles 11-13 I struggled to keep up. I began to drop back just after the halfway mark and once again was running more or less by myself.

Mentally, it's one thing to see your pace leader increasing the distance between the two of you knowing you'll probably not be able to catch up. It's quite another to be passed by the pace leader of the group behind you, especially when you know they started 2-3 minutes behind you in the corrals. Thus was my experience around mile 20. There went the 4:00 group, not flying past me by any means, but definitely moving faster than I was.

I pulled myself together and finished in 4:07 but I have since questioned whether or not a pace team helps me or hurts me. Newport won't have any pace teams, it's just not a big enough race (900 runners, marathon only), but Seattle will. And so I have a decision to make. Do I or don't I? And if I choose to do so, and my goal is 4:00, do I start with the 4:00 group and trust that I won't let them get away, or do I start with the 3:45 group and give myself a cushion (or who knows, maybe if I'm feeling great I stick with them the entire race), telling myself that whatever happens, I will not let the 4:00 group pass me?

Pace teams: helpful to you or not?

In other news, I'll be spending the first weekend in October here. I'm in!

2011-05-04T13:21:00.001-07:00

Two weeks ago I hurt myself.

One week ago I knew it was getting serious when I could no longer walk, sit or stand without immense pain.

Five days ago I sat in a surgeon's office waiting for her to lower the boom on the bad news I knew was coming.

Four days ago I was stretched out on my couch in constant pain, wondering if it would ever subside and how long it would be until I would run again.

Three days ago I substitute-taught an 11-year old Sunday School class at church. The topic? Miracles. Towards the latter end of class I was asked, "do miracles happen today?" I answered in the affirmative, as I have experienced and been a part of numerous events in my life that can only be classified as such (case in point: I'm alive after an unfortunate encounter with the wheels of a moving car at age 18 months). Then I spent the rest of the day in bed, still in too much pain to move around the house.

One day ago I ran for the first time in a week, not knowing how I'd feel during or after. I finished seven mostly low-pain miles but was still a little nervous about the next morning.

Today I woke up pain free. There's still a tender muscle or two in my lower abdomen and groin area, but the pain is gone.

Miracle? I say yes.

Back to training. I've got work to do.

I'm a runner. I'm going to run.

2011-05-03T18:34:00.000-07:00

There's a fine line on when to return to running after an injury. More specifically, there's a fine line on how much pain you should run through before it's just plain stupid, doing more harm than good. Come back too soon and you may find yourself sitting on the couch for an even longer period of time. On the other hand, a first run back is never going to be the most pleasant experience.

I wasn't sure what to expect today when I set out for the first time in a week. I've felt slightly better the last two days, but certainly there's still a swelling issue. Oh, and the pulled muscle. That's still there too. But Newport is just a little more than 30 days away and so for my own sake, I had to see where I stood. I thought back to my conversation with the surgeon on Friday where I was told in no uncertain terms that I probably shouldn't plan on running in Newport (I "forgot" to tell her about Seattle and Sauvie Island three and four weeks later, respectively). And this was after being told I didn't have a hernia. She said it with a slight chuckle and suggested maybe I look at running Portland in October, perhaps trying to make me feel better. I don't think she meant any ill will by her comments, she just didn't understand: I'm a runner. I'm going to run. (See: Denzel Washington in Remember the Titans: "I'm a winner. I'm going to win.")

So off I went, not knowing if I would make it to the end of the block or not. Mile 1 was rough to say the least, but tolerable. Nothing felt like it was getting worse so I continued on. After a few miles I was running comfortably at an 8:20 pace and feeling pretty good about myself. I faded a bit in the final two miles to an 8:45 pace, but was still able to finish the seven miles in just under an hour.

I'll be doing a good amount of icing tonight and then I'll see how I feel in the morning, but if everything checks out, I should be on my way to at least making the starting line in Newport. What sort of condition I'll be in when I get there is still up in the air. Still, it was nice to be running again.

2011-05-02T16:05:00.000-07:00

Feeling better these days is a matter of degrees, and I do feel a few degrees better today. I slept about 10 hours Saturday night and then was out cold for more than three hours on Sunday afternoon, much more sleep than I usually get, but maybe that's just my body trying to repair itself. I plan to go for a run tomorrow afternoon. How far I'll go I have no idea. I may not make it to the end of the street. I'll take a good long warm up walk (I feel much better once I get moving) and then start out VERY slow to make sure I'm not doing any more damage to anything. The clock is ticking though. 34 days to Newport and I'm determined to be at the starting line as prepared as I can be. Serving as extra motivation is the fact that a running couple I go to church with ran their 2nd marathon yesterday and both finished at 4 hours (3:57 and 4:00:41 respectively), after finishing their first marathon six months ago in 4 1/2 hours. I am totally thrilled by their accomplishment, but now I need to do the same.

Injury Update 4/30/2011

2011-04-30T08:14:00.000-07:00

So after meeting with the doctor yesterday morning and having him tell me he thought the cause of my pain was a hernia, I met with the surgeon yesterday afternoon. She went through the same drills of poking, prodding and generally making me want to cry. But she came up with a different diagnostic. Sort of.

"Well, the good news is I don't need to send you to emergency surgery for a strangulated hernia." In fact, she said she didn't feel any evidence of a hernia at all, including the fact that the lumpy bulge runs north/south rather than east/west towards my belly button, like it apparently should if it was a hernia.

She thought the actual lump felt much more like a lymph node and the rest of the bulge was simply fluid build up, easily displaced when pressure was applied.

So the working theory at this point is I probably pulled a muscle, which caused some bleeding in the area (causing the bulk of the swelling) and sent the lymph nodes into a frenzy as they try to filter everything out of the area. Or something like that.

I spent a lot of time last night with a hot water pad on the area and actually woke up feeling a little bit better. I probably could go run a few mile this morning, but they wouldn't be productive at all. So instead I'm taking it easy today, tomorrow and probably Monday. By Tuesday I'll hopefully feel well enough to get back to prepping for Newport, with only two runs really lost, which wouldn't be too bad, all things considered.

Why Now?

2011-04-29T08:47:00.000-07:00

I thought cross-training would be a good thing. By adding two intense one-hour spin class workouts per week I was feeling stronger than ever when I ran. I had come off a 20-mile run the previous Saturday and a great 6 mile run on Tuesday. And then Wednesday happened. It took me a while to realize it, but that little feeling of strain during a hard seated climb during Wednesday's spin class has become more serious than I first thought.

As I showered and dressed for work after class, I noticed a lump in my lower abdomen. It was sore to the touch, but I didn't think much of it. Over the next 48 hours the lump swelled a bit and became more tender and while I had no symptoms of illness or infection, I figured it was just a swollen lymph node or something else that would go away on its own.

I got two good runs in on Thursday and Friday and another quality long run of 16 miles two days later Saturday, afterwhich I helped some friends move and shoveled bark dust in my yard for a few hours. When I woke up Sunday, I had multiple sore muscles, but that darn lump in my abdomen just wasn't going away or feeling any better. Quite the opposite actually.

Fast forward four days to yesterday. The lump has continued to swell and the pain is no longer contained to a spot, but more of a general area. An ER doctor client of ours happened to be in our office yesterday so I asked him about it. He said it was most likely a hernia and that I should probably get it check out.

The pain has since increased, but only when I stand up, sit down, walk, cough, lay down, put on my socks or do anything else that requires any movmement. So here I wait, trying to get in to see my doctor today, with a surgery probably looming and worst case scenario thoughts running though my mind. Namely: the Newport Marathon is 5 weeks from tomorrow. And Seattle is three weeks after that. And the Foot Traffic Flat Marathon a nine days after that. Nice timing. I've blown this week of training and next week is probably out too at this point. After that, who knows. I do know that it's pretty depressing though.

More to come...

The Rising Cost of Fuel

2011-04-01T14:17:00.001-07:00

Shortly after returning home from Las Vegas, where I completed the Red Rock Canyon Marathon, I took a few days to think about my training schedule for the next few months. I had approximately 12 weeks before the blitz of three marathons in 30 days, enough time to make any necessary changes that I felt might help as I continue to learn about myself and running. It was about this time that I heard an interview by Jonah Keri, author of "The Extra 2%: How Wall Street Strategies Took a Major League Baseball Team from Worst to First" that made me think and ultimately decide to change things up. Without reprising the entire interview or the book, Mr. Keri basically said at one point that to take the next step and get to the next level of performance you need to look under every rock and figure out what else you could be doing. The extra 2%.

For more than 18 months I've been running. Just running. What I mean by that is I've just been putting in miles. Fartlek, Yasso 800's and intervals are not words in my running vocabulary. I focused almost exclusively on hills for the past few months to get ready for Red Rock, but that's about as diverse as my running has been. As I examined each of the marathons I've run, looking for ways to improve, I didn't think I necessarily needed to be running any more miles than I had been, but I knew I needed to be running smarter miles. I needed to find my extra 2%.

So I added an extra day, mixed in two days of cross-training and went to work putting together a training schedule for the run-up to the Newport Marathon on June 4th.

Here it is:

Monday: 1 hour early-morning spin class at YMCA

Tuesday: Tempo run, medium distance

Wednesday: 1 hour spin class at YMCA in morning, 5k speed run in afternoon

Thursday: Hills, medium distance, 30 seconds slower than Tempo pace

Saturday: Long run, 45 seconds slower than Tempo pace

The creators of the extremely popular P90X program contend that gaining strength is all about muscle confusion -- that this concept and strategy forces the body to adapt and thus, become stronger. Perhaps that is what I've been putting my body through the last few weeks, I don't know. But I do know that I feel like I'm running extremely well right now. Smooth, fast, and strong.

The unintended consequences of an increased workout schedule? I've been constantly hungry for the last two weeks. I can't eat enough. The other unintended consequence? My grocery budget has been blown to pieces. Yes, paying $50+ to fill my gas tank is shot to the gut (and budget). Even more though, is the increase in the price of bananas, strawberries and oranges.

For the person buying one bunch of bananas a week and enjoying one per day, the increase from $0.45/pound to $0.49/pound (the lowest price near me, at Costco) probably didn't have much of an effect. When you buy bananas 50lbs at time though, and do so multiple times a month, that 9% increase adds up quickly. Add in the nearly 11% increase in the price of a bag of frozen strawberries and the gas it takes to drive to the opposite side of town to get oranges 3lbs for a dollar at a different store, and you get the idea. (Don't even get me started on the price of tomatoes. Actual sign seen at a store I'll call Schmed Meyer last week: "In Store Special! Tomatoes-on-the-vine $4.49/lb!!!" I love tomatoes, but I'll pass.)

But, as my dad says, I've grown accustomed to eating. And I've grown accustomed to running. And so I continue to do both. I just need to do more of the former so I can continue to do the latter.

Special Post Inside The Mind -- Post-Marathon

2011-03-09T10:37:00.000-08:00

Note: There's a 24-hour rule in my house: anything I say (or think) about running within 24 hours after finishing a marathon is not to be taken seriously. It's no secret that the marathon is hard on body. It's just as hard on the mind. However many hours you're out there chipping away at 26.2 miles, the body as a whole is under immense stress and pressure. What happens upon completion? I'm not a medical professional, but for a time the chemical makeup of the body is out of balance. The imbalance affects mood, cognitive ability and even physical processes. Hence, my 24-hour rule.

What follows is a stream of consciousness from Saturday night, about 10 hours after completing the Red Rock Marathon. I knew I wasn't feeling or thinking correctly, but I felt like I had thoughts and feelings to get out anyway. I finished writing, saved the post and went to bed, intent on letting it sit for a few days before deciding whether to post it or not.

I've had two really good runs so far this week, each of them 8 miles, one of them with my wife, and I've felt great. Good times. I've gone back and forth whether to post Saturday night's writings or not but have decided to do so for this reason: after all of the excitement over preparing for and completing a marathon, I thought it would provide a good insight into life after the race, when the finish line adrenaline has worn off, when family and friends have gone back to their normal lives, and when you're left alone to reflect on what you've accomplished and what might be next.

The following is as it was written on Saturday night and has not been altered in any way...

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June will mark two years since I started to run consistently. It's easy for me to look back and see how far I've come. On that day, my brother and I ran four laps around the high school track -- and were gasping for air (and water) at the conclusion. On Saturday I ran a marathon that consisted of 3000 feet in total elevation gain. Maybe it's a case of being sore and experiencing some post-marathon blues, but I find myself wondering if I've made any significant progress in the last year, since I ran my first marathon.

What have I improved? My marathon finishing time? Nope. Last year I ran a 4:34 in Newport and a 4:07 in Seattle before finishing Pocatello at 4:35. I clocked in Saturday at 4:26. I was quite pleased with my time this week, given the difficulty of the course. It was certainly the most difficult course I've run, there's no doubt about that, but what does that really mean? How does a 4:26 at Red Rock compare to a 4:07 in Seattle, which had a few hills (though at the time I thought it had TONS)? Is it 20 minutes more difficult? 30 minutes? Is it equal?

Has my speed improved? I moved to the Garmin 205 at the beginning of the year and I haven't done many speed runs since, so its tough to tell. The Nike+ technology that I was using prior to 2011 was so inaccurate that it's tough to extract any quality information out of it. As a result, I only have shorter races, which I don't run a lot of, and known routes that I run to compare. Has my speed significantly improved? Not really. (That said, I have seen significant improvement in my speed and endurance on inclines, which I feel good about.)

How about endurance? Not really. Maybe it's too soon after a grueling race, but I think back on all four marathons and get frustrated by the fact that I've struggled so much with the mile 17-22 section of the courses. I generally recover and finish the final four or miles strong, but by that time the damage has been done and my time has been blown up. In every case, I've finished the first half in under two hours and in three of the four races (including Saturday), at 1:55 or better. I wouldn't say I "bonk" or "hit a wall," as I feel like these terms imply not being able to continue or walking more than running just to finish. There's just something about these few miles that I haven't yet been able to get through. Do I train hard enough? Do I put in enough miles? Enough long runs? Enough rest? Healthy diet? Plenty of sleep? I believe I can honestly answer yes to each of those questions. What then, on race day?

Has my health improved? This may be the one area I can definitively answer yes. With an additional year of consistent running under my belt, I feel stronger. I've avoided any of the injuries I struggled with towards the end of 2009 and into 2010, namely severe shin splints, some hip issues and extremely sore ankles and knees after long runs. I've struggled the last few months with an on again/off again strained abdominal muscle, but in terms of bone structure and strength, I've improved.

So that's where I am right now. I feel like I've plateaued. I have plenty of time to revamp things before Newport 2011 the first weekend in June. I don't know what else to do though. More speed work? More cross training? Longer runs? This week I'll do a couple of recovery runs and next week is up in the air, but after that, it's back to business for 11 weeks leading up to Newport. What am I missing here? What's it going to take to get to where I want to be? And why haven't I been able to get there yet? Is it even worth it...?

Red Rock Canyon Marathon Recap

2011-03-07T15:03:00.000-08:00

(Note: I have pictures to add to this recap, but can't do so until I return home. Check back after 3/17/2011 for pictures)

With only the sound of feet hitting the ground, the first line in the documentary "Spirit of the Marathon" is Deena Castor saying rather ominously, "sometimes the moments that challenge us the most, define us."

The Red Rock Canyon Marathon probably won't define my life or who I am as a person, but it was my greatest challenge to-date as a runner. And as a runner, the challenges I experienced and overcame on Saturday may very well stay with me as I encounter future obstacles and hardships.

It was a cool but clear morning as i arrived at the Red Rock Casino to catch a bus to the starting line in the desert. I figured the busses to the starting line would fill quickly, so I jumped on the first bus rather than sit in my car and wait for a future ride. This turned out to be mistake as we arrived at the starting line at approximately 4:45am, in the dark and in the cold. I was wearing ample warm clothing, but could have used an extra sweatshirt or jacket. Sitting around shivering for an hour wasn't much fun but what was the alternative, go run around trying to get warm? No thanks.

The temperature rose just enough in the minutes before starting that the shivering subsided. As went off, the sun was just starting to come over the mountains and gave way to a perfect morning on which to run.

Miles 1-8

In a nutshell, the first eight miles consisted of a steady 3% grade climb followed by a 4.5% downgrade to the halfway point.

It took a mile or so for me to get warmed up after sitting in the cold for that long, but I felt good during the initial miles as we climbed up the canyon. I found a nice smooth pace at which to run and stayed between a 8:30 and 9:30/mile pace. At mile markers 5, 6 and 7 I made mental notes that I was below a 9 minute pace and almost to the top of the outward climb, which I felt really good about. I knew the real race would start around mile 13, but for the time being, I liked how I felt and how I was running.

Miles 8-13

After reaching the peak at mile 8.5, it was a sharp downhill for about 5 miles to the Red Rock Canyon Visitors Center, where the turnaround point was. I was content to try to keep an even, albeit slightly faster pace, down the hill but had some people flying past me in what seemed to be a sprint. These people know they have to turn around and run back up this hill, right?

It was about this point that the wave of half marathoners approached (they began at the halfway point an hour after the marathon start). I would never disparage half marathon runners. They're great. They seem to be a more social bunch than marathoners though. This was evident in the countless groups running and/or walking three and four (or more) abreast up the hill while us marathoners were trying to take advantage of the downward slope. The road was marked off with cones, giving runners half of one lane (with no shoulder) - not a whole lot of space. I was forced off the side of the road a handful of times by 1/2ers who simply weren't paying attention, didn't see me coming, or didn't care. There's a simple solution to this problem -- start the half marathon 2 hours after the marathon. It would have given the bulk of the marathoners the chance to get past this congestion.

I hit the halfway point at about 1:55, a time I was pleased with. I was starting to feel a little fatigued, but knew that I would probably be resorting to a run/walk pattern up some of the steepest hills in miles 13-18, so I continued on at my current pace, though not for long.

Miles 14-18

Running back up the hill, the stress of the first half began to take its toll. My pace in mile 14 slowed to 10:17 and then to 10:34 in mile 15. I was still moving consistently, but I was having to walk here and there because of the degree of the incline. My pace continued to drop during miles 16 and 17 and as I approached the top of the hill in mile 18, the steepest portion of the entire course, I had slowed to a 13:14 pace.

Mile 19-22

And then mile 19 happened. I reached the peak of the canyon and walked through the well-placed aid station and psyched myself up to run down to the finish line. I got about 100 yards down the road when all of the sudden my right quad began to cramp just above my knee. A little slow to react, I pulled up quickly, which probably only made things worse. It was only a few seconds later I was trying to rub out the baseball-sized cramp protruding from my leg.

I've never cramped on any run. And on this day, given the sunshine and warm temperatures (once the sun came up), I had made sure to take HEED (as disgusting as I think it is) at every aid station rather than water. But for some reason today was the day my legs decided to cramp. Both of them. From my calves up to my, uhh, inside upper thigh.

It's funny, I don't remember running downhill much during the first eight miles. But during the last eight miles there was definitely some unfinished business in the form of a few difficult climbs. This made for equal opportunity cramping of my muscles - my quads going downhill, my calves going uphill.

Miles 23-26.2

I knew at mile 19 that finishing in 4 hours was out, but 4:30 was still there. At mile 23, 4:30 was still there, but I knew I'd have to push it a little harder than I had been. I had to get going, keep walking to a minimum and hope that I wouldn't need to stop to rub out any more obnoxious cramps.

The final three miles I turned in my three fastest laps of the second half, despite continued cramping. I had also noticed that despite my drinking up to the point just short of discomfort at every aid station, I had stopped sweating around mile 22, a clear sign of dehydration. I'm proud that I was able to push through though, pass a few people who had passed me earlier and run the final .2 at an 8:23 pace to finish in 4:26:27. I've never been one to try to compare running accomplishments to life, I guess I just don't think that deeply, but I do feel like what I experienced and pushed past in the final few miles will serve me well in future races.

It was nice to have some support at the finish line. My wife and kids had made some signs and were stationed about 50 yards from the finish, along with my in-laws, sister-in-law and nephew. It wasn't exactly a spectator-friendly course, but it was nice to have them stop by and cheer at mile 15 and then to have them at the finish as well.

A quick run through of the pros and cons of the race:

Pro: The t-shirt design is unique and kind of cool

Con: The light brown shirt the design is on? Not so cool

Pro: Great organization. Busses left on time, mile markers were spot on, aid stations were located where they were supposed to be (and stocked what they said they would stock), volunteers were energetic and helpful, easy check in.

Con: Post-race spread looked like something from a church picnic: Tupperware containers of fruit salad and pasta salad, some various fruity shortcake-like breads, mini cinnamon rolls, and water/HEED coolers with paper cups. Not a huge deal, it's a lower-budget race and it met all of my immediate needs.

Pro: Course description and elevation maps were accurate. Nobody should have been surprised with what they had gotten into

Con: This is kind of nit picky, but I like either my shirt or my finisher's medal (which had the same unique design as the shirt) to differentiate from that which the half marathoners receive. Again, not to disparage the half runners in any way, but I think we've earned that much.

Like Pocatello, it's probably not a race I'll put on my calendar every year and make it a point to travel to, but if I'm in the area on race day, I'd do it again.

Red Rock Marathon Results

2011-03-05T12:22:00.000-08:00

A hard-earned 4:26 on an extremely difficult and taxing course. Full recap coming...

Red Rock Marathon: Final Preparations (or lack thereof)

2011-03-04T09:59:00.000-08:00

It's been such a busy two weeks that I haven't had much time to dwell on the actual race tomorrow. Probably for the best. By nature, I want to plan every little detail of everything, leave nothing to chance and know exactly what is going to happen when and why. This is how I approached all three marathons last summer and while all three were good experiences, I think I had over analyzed things so much that by the time I reached the starting line I was an overstressed mental mess, despite my efforts and intentions to be the opposite.

I'm feeling pretty good today. I know the course generally, but haven't bothered to inspect every inch of it. I know it goes up for eight miles, then down for five, then turns around and goes back the other direction. I know roughly where the aid stations are and which ones will have food. I know where to catch the bus to the starting line, what the clothes drop-off procedures are and where my family might be at the finish line. More than that, I don't really know. Don't really care. Because of the difficulty of the course, I don't have any expectations or goals for a finishing time. My wife asked what time I thought I might be done and I gave here an hour window. I really have no idea.

Many training programs stress the importance of treating long runs like race day. For some reason I've neglected this in the past. I've run 21 miles+ three times in the last six weeks. For each of those runs, I rolled out of bed, put on my clothes, drank a small glass of water and set out on my way. Why should race day be any different? So that's the plan (or lack thereof) for the next 24 hours. Eat smart. Drink fluids. Enjoy my vacation in Las Vegas. And at about 4am tomorrow, roll out of bed, lace up my shoes and head towards the starting line. From there, I'll just run.

This hit my inbox a few weeks ago from Runners World:

"Do the work. Do the analysis. But feel your run. Feel your race. Feel the joy that is running." (Kara Goucher, American long-distance runner)

Good enough for me. I've run aapproximately 400 miles of hills since my last race in November. I've done it through rain, wind, snow and darkness. I've done all I can do. Tomorrow's forecast calls for sunny skies and 60 degrees by around 8am. Sounds like a great morning to take a 26.2 mile victory lap.

Border Crossing Contraband

2011-03-01T16:47:00.001-08:00

Eating on the road is difficult. I'll have spent most of two days in the the car and one day stopped in Sacramento for some training for work before finally arriving in Las Vegas on Wednesday. I plowed through a eight or so bananas on day one in the car, but when it came to looking for a quality meal, it was difficult. I finally settled on a BLT on whole wheat bread from Subway, figuring this was about as good as it was going to get without access to my blender (which I travel with) or my frozen fruit. I'm trying my best not to stress too much over it though, as it is still early in the week. Once I hit Las Vegas tomorrow afternoon it'll be all business until Saturday, but I've come to the conclusion that I'm going to have to make some concessions while I'm traveling. I'm just trying to be as smart as I can about it.

Something I did not expect on my trip towards Las Vegas was being stopped just after crossing the Oregon/California border at some sort of border crossing. I didn't think much of, just that it was sort of odd. What would I be bringing into CA that I couldn't have in OR? As I pulled up to the little window and the official-looking lady stepped out, I wondered what she would ask me. Are there any drugs in the car? Any illegal aliens (or, if you prefer, your favorite P.C. term)? How about any runaway underage girls? Have you seen this missing child?

Not even close.

She asked me the only possible question to which I could have answered yes: Sir, are you carrying any fresh fruit in your vehicle?

I tried not to laugh at her. What I really wanted to say was, "Yes. Yes I am. Lots of fruit. All different kinds of fruit. Some of it frozen. Some of it not. I have enough fruit in my car to feed a small army in fact. Guess what, I have a blender too, etc etc etc"

Instead I simply answered yes.

Then she wanted to see it. My bananas -- they were fine. The pineapple -- all good, as were the strawberries and apples. Then came the 40lb box of oranges in my backseat. "I'm going to need to see those oranges, sir" she said. As she started to inspect my cargo I told her I had bought them at Food 4 Less the day before but she didn't appear to hear me. Then she saw on the box that they were a product of CA and said they checked out fine. Good thing too. I spent a lot of money on those oranges and I would have had to make reference to my cold dead fingers had she tried to confiscate them. Maybe because they weren't from Florida they were alright? I don't know. Let it be a warning to you if you want enter the State of California though. I wonder, is this the same question asked at the Southern border? If so, I can think of a way to vastly improve the illegal immigration, drug and human trafficking problems without costing taxpayers a dime.

Thinking Like a Runner

2011-03-01T16:46:00.000-08:00

I don't particularly like anything starting with "You know you're a (fill in the blank) when..." so I won't do that here. I'll simply say that I am a runner. And I know it. How do I know it? Because of what I was thinking about in the car on and off for 8 hours yesterday.

I've mentioned before that I'm very much a numbers-oriented person. Because I run alone I have lots of time to calculate pace, split times, projected time and speed, etc. After slowing my pace by a minute/mile while running up a hill for a mile and a half, my thoughts turn to how fast I need to run the next few miles to get back to my target pace.

So as I was slowed at various times yesterday by traffic, bad weather, mountainous climbs and stops for gas fillups, I instictively started processing what speed I would have to average over the next hour, two hours, 100 miles etc in order to get back to my desired pace for the trip. Stupid? Maybe. A sure sign of a runner? Definitely.

"My Run" Movie Premiere

2011-02-19T11:08:00.000-08:00

If you're looking for something to do on March 31st, here's one idea that was recently sent to me:

"My Run" is the story of Terry Hitchcock, who, after tragically losing his wife to breast cancer and struggling to raise three young children on his own, seized on an idea. He wanted to accomplish the impossible: run 75 consecutive marathons in 75 consecutive days to bring attention to the incredibly difficult lives of single-parent families. He ran in spite of freezing rain and unbearable heat, in spite of chest pains and bone fractures that wracked his 57-year-old body. He just kept running - each day, every day - strengthening an unbreakable bond between father and son--- not stopping until he broke the finish line tape in Atlanta. "My Run" is more than a film about a guy running multiple marathons; it’s a film about the daily marathons we all run in life, a theme that’s extremely relevant and important in this day and time.

Narrated by Academy Award winner Billy Bob Thornton, "My Run" will be shown at movie theaters nationwide one night only on March 31, 2011. A portion of the film's profits will be donated to the LIVESTRONG organization to fight cancer. Below are various links for more information.

The MY RUN Story -

Website/Trailer: www.myrunmovie.com

Facebook Fan Page: http://www.facebook.com/myrunmovie

Tickets go on sale February 18, 2011 at www.FathomEvents.com/MyRun.

Sink or Swim

2011-02-14T16:38:00.000-08:00

My wife recently signed our family up for a membership at the local YMCA. With no joining fee, a month-to-month contract and free childcare for our two kids, the time was right. I did, however, lose the excuse for not doing any sort of cross-training on my days off of running. A week or so later, having completed my run in the morning before work, we all went to the gym after dinner so I could check things out. After getting the tour from my wife, I wandered into the cycling room and was asked if I wanted to participate in the spin class that would be starting in a few minutes. Why not? I thought. I like to bike (I think -- I haven't been on one in the three years since both of my bikes were stolen), and how hard could it be?

The next 55 minutes of my life were much like my first running experience back in July 2008. Drenched in sweat and with my quad muscles on fire I made my way to the drinking fountain and then down the stairs to meet up with my wife and kids. Upon being asked how my class went, I decided it was awesome. So awesome, that I've been going back Monday and Wednesday mornings for the 5:15am class.

I don't know how far we ride during these classes, but I know how hard and how long it would take me to ride 20 miles as a teenager, which I would occasionally do on Saturday mornings during the summer.
I feel good about the fact that I can knock out an hour ride without much trouble. Which sort of gets me thinking...what if I could swim?

A good number of my online running acquaintances have been transitioning from marathons to triathlons recently. My wife has suggested for months that I try it but I've never had much interest in doing so. There's a couple of local races throughout the summer that involve 500 meter swims, 12-15 mile bike rides and 5k runs. Please. I feel like I could walk out of my office, shirt and tie and all, and complete the cycling and running portion without much difficulty. The 500 meter swim though?

Here's the thing about me and swimming: I sink. My wife tells me lovingly that I'm just dense, which is probably true on many levels. I can swim in my grandma's pool. I play pool basketball, I can make my way back to a canoe when it tips over and I've even made it across the Deschutes River. Twice (though this ranks unquestionably as the worst idea my brother and I have ever had as it very easily could have ended in disaster). The YMCA offers private lessons and classes for adults who want to learn to swim better (or at all). I'm thinking of trying it. I have no intentions of being an Ironman (and $500+ for a race, really?). But then again, I didn't have any intentions of running a marathon before I ran my first 5k either. So...we'll see.

Ready for Red Rock after 21 miles of hills

It's also time to sink or swim at Red Rock. I completed my final 20-miler on Saturday (21 miles actually) and feel really good about where I am. I ran the same route two weeks ago and I finished 7 minutes faster this time. I've done all I can do to build and prepare for what I'll face in three weeks. I'm going to back of the number of hills I run until race day, probably just one day a week, and focus on some speed work, as the runs will be fairly short, comparatively. It's time to buckle down and focus on getting plenty of sleep, drinking lots of water, giving a little extra attention to what I'm eating and avoid, at all costs, stepping on any toys left out by my kids in bare feet. My dad suggested after my Saturday run that I not over think things. Good advice but hard to do.

20 miles is worse than 26.2

2011-01-28T07:20:00.000-08:00

Occasionally someone will mention that they've seen me out running and ask if I'm training for something. When I tell them I run and train for marathons the conversation generally moves toward how awful or difficult or boring or impossible running 26.2 miles seems to them. What I can't explain to them is that the marathon is, in the words of Travis at Finally Airborne, a victory lap. A victory lap for all of the hard work, dedication, time management, commitment to nutrition and regular sleep and perseverance through dark, raining, cold mornings for months and months. A victory lap for completing something that is awful and difficult and boring and sometimes seems impossible: the 20-mile long runs.

In my experience, the 20-mile long run is far more difficult than a 26.2-mile race. For while the marathon requires an extra 45 minutes to an hour (at my pace) or more of running, here's what the 20-miler doesn't have:

Family & friends cheering you on along the way or waiting for you at the finish line
Spectators cheering for those around you (but pretending they are cheering for you)
Good Samaritans holding signs that read "We don't know each other, but I'm proud of you" at the point when you want nothing more than to quit but know you can't. And won't.
Bands/cheerleaders, even bad bands and girls half my age wearing WAY too much makeup -- you know they'll be there and you're glad they are
Little kids giving high-fives to everyone they can
Moments that remind you how lucky you are
Regularly spaced aid stations
And if you train alone like I do, the camaraderie of others, spoken or unspoken, who are pushing themselves towards a similar goal
A medal, T-shirt, medical staff and general overall pampering at the finish line
The pride that goes along with walking (or limping if your prefer) around the rest of the day with your medal hanging around your neck for all to see

The 20-miler early on a Saturday morning is a lonely, grueling experience but it must be done. Multiple times. It's not fun. It's not glamorous. No one that sees you knows if you're in mile 2 or mile 18. But it's necessary. It's the run when your mental toughness is put to the test. 26.2 miles will be more physically demanding due to the number of miles, but if you can mentally will yourself through your 20-milers you'll be more than prepared for the physical challenge that awaits on race day.

I have my 2nd of three 20-milers coming tomorrow, and while I'm not looking forward to it, I will do it. Five more weeks and two 20-milers and I'll be ready to take my victory lap around Red Rock Canyon on March 5th. Can't wait.

I Gained Weight (Finally)...and why that's a good thing

2011-01-25T20:38:00.000-08:00

So I've stepped away for a few months. Certainly not from running, but from writing and posting here for sure. There just hasn't been enough time in the day or week to justify sitting down and writing anything of any significance. The demands on my time became much lighter last week, however, when my assignment to teach an early morning religious studies class to a group of 21 high school juniors and seniors came to an end. For the last two and a half school years, I estimate that I spent approximately 20 hours per week (unpaid) in class teaching, or in lesson and class preparation or other activities.

I'm 5 1/2 weeks out from the Red Rock Canyon marathon outside of Las Vegas. Every review I've read of this race has had the same advice: be prepared for hills. So since November I've been running mile after mile and hour after hour of 3-7% grade hills. It's not hard to find them around my house. I've mentioned before that I live in a bowl. Any direction I want to go is up, so there's no escaping it. A few things have happened during these few months of training that I think are worth noting:

1. The average pace of my runs has dropped significantly. Rare is the day when I average less than 8 minutes/mile for a run. Just as rare is a mile run on a route even close to flat. This discouraged me for a few weeks until I started measuring progress in more applicable ways. For instance, there is a hill approximately four miles from my house. From the stop sign at the bottom to the stop sign at the top is .76 miles and it averages a 7% grade. I ran this hill once in preparation for the Seattle Rock n Roll marathon last year. It was awful. In November I ran it again and it took me approximately 9 minutes to get to the top. "9 minutes of Hell," I named it. Since November, "9 minutes of Hell" has steadily become 8 minutes, and then 7:30, and then 7:12. And then last Saturday, an hour into my run, I scaled the beast in 6:58 (just got back from my 10-miler today...6:46 on the Hill from Hell! It's working...). Take that! So though my average pace is still consistently over 8 minutes/mile, but progress is being made.

2. Perhaps as a consequence of running so many hills, my weight has also increased over the last three months. Fairly significantly actually, but in a good way. I've experienced a 6% increase from what I've weighed since I was 15 years old. In a related story, my body fat percentage has dropped since I last checked it (late spring 2010) and is now below 6%. It's completely muscle growth in my legs. I can feel it as I run up hills that were once a struggle but now are just in my way. The amount of time I spend in front of a mirror each day is the time it takes me to brush my hair in the morning and brush my teeth a few times, but I did have one vain thought the other day when I walked by and caught a glimpse of myself in my Under Armour base layer pants. It was something along the lines of "Dang, who stole your skinny chicken legs that you've been walking around on for the last 28 years?"

While the increase in muscle has been nice for running hills and will no doubt serve me well in Las Vegas, I must admit that when I do occasionally run a flat mile or two, I feel the extra weight. And I don't like it. I feel heavy. Maybe I just need some time to let my lower joints adjust, but I wouldn't mind dropping back down to my previous weight prior to my relatively flat races in June and July.

3. I'm currently using Hal Higdon's 3-day/week program (minus the cross-training) and I really like it. I run Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. The extra day off on Monday really makes a big difference in how I feel the rest of the week. My wife also recently signed our family up for a YMCA membership, so I don't have any more excuses for not doing some cross training a few days a week. I'm eying the cycling class from 5:15-6:00am as a possible option as well as the morning lap swim (assuming of course, I learn how to swim properly. My current level of if-I-get-tossed-in-the-water-I-can-make-it-back-to-the-boat isn't conducive to lap swimming. So I'm told.)

Garmin Forerunner 205

Things are good though. I swapped out my Nike+ sportband for a Garmin Forerunner 205 (much, much improved). I've dealt off and on with a strained abdominal muscle but generally I feel pretty good. I'm ready to start peaking as I enter the final 5 weeks of training for 2011 Marathon #1. I have been thinking about a couple of things that I will comment on over the next few weeks. I do miss writing my thoughts and ideas and hope that now that I have some more time that I'll be able to update more regularly. It's a great time of year -- Spring Marathon training season is in full swing. Have a good run today!

2011 is here (even if it's not even December yet)

2010-11-26T13:21:00.000-08:00

2011 came more quickly than I anticipated last night when my sister-in-law announced a March 12th wedding date in Las Vegas (where my in-laws live). Travel time and expenses accounted for, I had to drop plans for one marathon (Salt Lake City on April 16th) but was able to add another (Red Rock Canyon). Fortunately or unfortunately, Red Rock is only 14 weeks away...so much for taking a few weeks off. So here how 2011 shapes up:

March 5th, 2011: Red Rock Canyon Marathon (Las Vegas, NV)
June 4th, 2011: Newport Marathon (Newport, OR)
June 25th, 2011: Seattle Rock 'n' Roll Marathon (Seattle, WA)
July 4th, 2011: Foot Traffic Flat Marathon (Portland, OR)

I missed on becoming a Marathon Maniac this year by two days. The bronze level criteria is three marathons in 90 days...the Pocatello Marathon (my third) came on day 92. Not in 2011. It's an ambitious schedule but one I don't feel any hesitation about. I know how my body recovers and feel confident in my abilities to run all four of these events. I'm hoping to add a fifth marathon in the fall, but I haven't found one that is economically feasible right now.

As an added bonus, I'd really like to run the local "mini-marathon" in my hometown on July 4th. This is the race that got it all started for me in 2008 and my goal is to run the Foot Traffic Flat Marathon and the Monmouth-Independence Mini-Marathon. Logistically is just might work. The marathon begins at 6:45am and it's about an 80 mile drive down I-5 back to Monmouth, where the 2.6mile race begins at 11:45ish. Maybe it's wishful thinking, but if I can finish the marathon in the 3:45 range (my goal for next year and the Foot Traffic Flat is just that) and all goes well, I just might be able to pull it off. And if not, I'll settle in and watch the parade with aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents and friends and then go enjoy the rest of the day (my 29th birthday also) at my grandparents' house in their pool.

I've spent a considerable amount of time thinking about how I need to change my training for the coming year. Coming into 2010, I had very little, if any, running base to speak of. Now I've got a year of consistent running under my belt and could go run 15 miles on any given day and not sweat it. Mileage isn't a problem. Cross-training, however, is a problem. I don't do any. And if there's one thing I think would make a difference between mile 20 and the finish line, it's adding a consistent core strengthening program.

I'm also realistic about my time, or lack of it. I'm not any less busy than I was at this time last year and a four running days per week schedule bordered on too much. For the next 14 weeks I'll be using Hal Higdon's 3-day per week program. I like the principles behind it and feel good about Mr. Higdon's purpose for each run. I'll spend two days a week doing the RevAbs program as my core strengthening component and then I take two days a week, Sunday and Friday, to completely rest. I'll have a few months between Red Rock and Newport so I can adjust things if necessary, but for now this is what I'm going with.

While cleaning some things in my garage this morning, I glanced up at the wall where I put all of my race bibs, finishing medals, pictures, etc and thought about the last 14 months: three marathons, five half marathons, two 15ks, a 10k and a 5k. Who'd have thought? 2011 is here, even if it's only December. It's cold outside. It's wet. It's dark. It's miserable. I dislike all of these things, but for marathon training it's perfect. It separates those who will put in the work regardless of the conditions and those who will make excuses why they can't. For those who endure it, the reward will be there on race days next spring.

Giveaway Post! Contest Ends 11/22/10!

2010-11-15T19:04:00.000-08:00

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Update: Congratulations to Andrew G., who's sharing of the giveaway post on Facebook won him a brand new RevAbs kit! Enjoy!
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As 2010 comes to a close and 2011 race announcements start arriving in my inbox, I look back at my year in running with satisfaction and look forward to the coming year with optimism. My satisfaction comes from completing three marathons, two half marathons (including my first trail race), two 15k races, and a 5k and 10k, where I set new PRs. My optimism comes from knowing I've yet to run my best marathon. I know that I can break 4 hours and challenge 3:45 if all goes right. I'm not there yet. But I will be. My problems always come in the final 6 miles but I don't believe it's a conditioning issue or a mental issue as much as it is a strength issue. I'll explain:

As I've learned to run the last 18 months, I've improved in many areas. At first, I focused solely on distance. After some injuries due to overtraining, I added a nutritional component to my training. Then I developed a schedule that included regular rest days and targeted mileage increases. Shortly thereafter I began practicing various mental-strengthening strategies. One thing I have never done, however, is cross-train. I don't own a bike (both were stolen), I don't swim particularly well and I have neither the time nor the money to join a gym simply to lift weights.

I've also learned that focusing on leg strength isn't enough to get me to where I want to be. The body uses an incredible amount of energy to create the motion needed to move the legs--motion that begins in the core. In each step we take, we must first ask our bodies to rotate from left to right or right to left. Over and over again, hundreds, thousands and tens of thousands of times during a run we ask this of our bodies. When the core muscles are the weak point in the body, they become a burden to the whole structure, throw other muscles and energies out of balance and can eventually lead to poor form and ultimately injury. And no one likes being injured.

This winter, with four marathons in view for 2011 (see the side panel for upcoming races), I'm committing myself to strengthening my core muscles. I know that by doing so I will become a more efficient and effective runner.

Now there's an opportunity for your to do the same -- for FREE!

RevAbs: Your 90-Day Ab Solution

I have in my possession for one lucky reader a complete RevAbs kit from BeachBody. BeachBody, the creators of the wildly popular P90X fitness program, along with Brett Hoebel, a sought-after fitness, strength and nutrition expert in New York and Los Angeles for 15 years have developed the RevAbs program using Brett's biomedical science background and expertise in the Afro-Brazilian martial art capoeira.

Created and designed to burn fat and earn you (not give--you'll certainly work for it) six-pack abs in 90 days, simplicity is the name of the game with RevAbs. For me, as a person who thrives on structure, RevAbs does not disappoint. Out of the box, the RevAbs kit is a complete step-by-step workout and nutritional program designed to maximize fat burning and six-pack creation.

Separated into two 45-day programs, RevAbs contains 9 different workouts on 7 CDs. The accompanying RevGuide guides you through each daily workout, so you never have to worry about or wonder what's coming next. Each workout lasts 15-45 minutes, about the time it takes to watch a lame episode of Survivor (shaking head), Fringe (great show) or The Office (ehh). The workouts are fast, efficient and don't mess around and you'll start to feel the burn almost instantly

In addition, the RevAbs kit contains a 45 minute Rev It Up Cardio workout. Why spend time being bored on a treadmill when you can spice up your workout and burn fat off your whole body? Do a lot of traveling? Take the Anytime, Anywhere Abs workout with you. It's a 5 minute workout you can do anytime, anywhere.

The RevAbs Kit: 7 CDs, RevGuide, Nutrition Guide,
Rev It Up Workout, Anywhere Abs,
Wall Calendar & Fat Calipers,

Also included is a fantastic Nutrition Guide, featuring Brett's 14-day Jump Start Plan, simple, easy to prepare and delicious meal by meal recipes and all the nutritional information you'll need to stay on course. Regular readers of this site know how I feel about nutrition, but I will say this about the RevAbs system: the principles, if followed, will be an improvement in diet for probably 90% of Americans. Each meal is customizable and contains real food. Not fake food, or worthless supplements or platters full of cauliflower (forgive me if cauliflower is your thing).

A wall calendar, professional fat caliper and free 24-hour online access to the RevAbs web site where you can chat with Brett and other fitness experts, and meet other RevAbs customers round out the kit, which retails for around $80. But...

...for being one of my readers, I have one complete RevAbs kit to give away for FREE! Entering to win in simple:

One Entry: Simply check out the RevAbs website and leave a comment below telling me what one of Brett Hoebel's nicknames is.

Two Entries: In additional to leaving a comment below, put a link on your blog (if you have one) to this contest page OR become a twitter follower of @mobmarathon and retweet the contest announcement (if you're already a follower, just retweet the announcement). Don't use Twitter? That's fine, just spread the word by sharing this page on Facebook instead using the button at the bottom of this post.

Three Entries: Just do all three! Twitter (or Facebook), Blog/Site link and Comment. It's easy!

Please let me know in your comment how many entries you've qualified for if more than one (honor system). It will save me the time and effort of matching up your Twitter account name with your Facebook page with your name on your comment (read: I'm not going to spend the time matching up names. Just tell me how many entries in your comment).

Hurry and enter! Contest closes at 8pm EST on Monday November 22nd and will post the winner will be posted on Tuesday November 23rd by 11am EST. I want to make sure I get you the RevAbs kit in time to start working off that Thanksgiving Dinner!

(fine print disclosure: BeachBody, the makers of RevAbs, has provided me with a complete RevAbs kit to review and an additional kit to give away. I have not been compensated in any other way by Beach Body nor am I affiliated with them in any way. For more information about RevAbs and BeachBody, check out their Facebook and Twitter pages).

The Case for the 6th Day

2010-10-15T18:08:00.000-07:00

At the outset, I want to warn you that this post will have little to nothing to do with running strategy, technique, nutrition, or mental discipline. I'm here today to vent, plain and simple. Not at anyone in particular or against society or culture. Just at "it." Because "it" has driven me nuts for the duration of my short, but increasing running career. "It" has been working its way past annoying and towards irritating for sometime now, but today for whatever reason, it kicked and in doing so sprinted right by irritating and frustrating and into depressing.

A few pieces of disclosure first of all:

1. I understand fully that race directors and organizations don't know me from anyone (nor do they care, nor do they have a reason to) and as such, don't have me in mind when they organize a race.
2. Not only do they not know or care who I am, they know if I don't sign up for their race and pay their fee, someone else will--so why should they care?
3. I have made personal decisions in my life that contribute to "it."
4. My personal decisions, and my reasons behind them, are far more important to me than eliminating "it" by simply changing my decisions.

Sufficiently lost or confused yet? I apologize. Hear me out (or not -- either way, I'm writing it).

Here's what "it" is: Why are the vast majority of marathons held on Sunday?

Many of the arguments I see in online running forums and other places fall into three main arguments:

First, that Sunday races allow for Saturday expos. What many marathons call "expos" are simply packet pick-up/registration venues that also happen to have various products for sale. They're not events you would ever go to if you didn't have to pick up your race packet. Hold these festivities on Friday evening, Saturday morning before the race and for a few hours after the race. My guess is you'd have a more relaxed customer base. Let's face it, despite our best efforts, we're all strung a little tighter then we'd like to be in the hours prior to a marathon.

Second, traffic may be slightly less on Sunday morning. Let's just agree on the fact that unless it's strictly a trail race, there will be traffic logistics to work out on any day and at any time the race is to be held. A little route planning would probably go a long way towards making the issue of traffic a moot point, in terms of Saturday versus Sunday.

Finally, Sunday races allow for travel on Friday and Saturday. Having recently run a marathon and traveled home the same day let me tell you, it's hell. That said, having Sunday to recoup and recover before going back to work on Monday was an absolute necessity.

Scenario A: Travel on Friday, race on Saturday morning, enjoy the festivities and either travel home Saturday and recover on Sunday or get a good night's sleep on Saturday and travel home Sunday.

Scenario B: Travel on Friday or Saturday, be all stressed out over how many steps you're taking, try to fill your day with enough activities to keep you occupied but not so much that you sap your energy, worry about how you're going to stick to your pre-race diet away from home, get a poor night of sleep because of these three issues, race Sunday morning, be stressed some more as you rush to get home so you can get to bed late and wake up Monday morning to go to work.

That's obviously dramatized a bit, but you get the idea.

So-called "destination marathons" receive a pass on the travel point. However, many races think of themselves as destination marathons when they actually are not. Disney World? Destination marathon. Las Vegas? The same. New York, Chicago? Fine. Vernonia, OR?!? Eugene, OR? Vancouver, WA?

Ask yourself this: if there was no marathon being held, would you ever travel to Location X just to site-see or tell people you had been there? If the answer is no, if EVERYONE'S answer is no, then it's not a destination marathon (I exclude a 50 Stater's answer to this question because they'll go anywhere and call it a destination race simply because its probably their one and only visit to a particular state).

When I first started to run I made the decision I would not run on Sunday. Given my personal convictions and religious beliefs, it's not something I feel right about doing. I spend my Sundays going to church, pondering things spiritual, spending an entire day with my wife and kids and treating it in multiple ways as a day of rest. Others can make their own decisions. I don't judge them for it. Their convictions and beliefs are just as personal and unique to them as mine are to me. There are even those within my own congregation who feel differently about this issue than I do. I don't think any less of them for it.

Long ago I knew that this decision to not run on Sunday would mean I would never run in some of the most popular races in the country (Chicago, Las Vegas, New York, Disney World) as well as a few smaller races that I would love to do (Phoenix, most of the Rock n Roll Series races, Vancouver B.C.). At some level this is disappointing, but as I said in the beginning, my reasons for not running on Sunday are for more important than any of these races would be. And so, I I have never trained or run a race on Sunday since this journey began.

My frustration today came as rumors became a reality when a (somewhat) local half marathon announced they would be adding a full marathon in 2011. The half has been held the last few years on Saturday early in April and has had good reviews locally. The full option now added, the directors moved both races moved to Sunday. What a shame. With the exception of a few years for college, I have lived in Oregon my entire life. I had to look up on a map where Vernonia, OR is. It fails all three arguments above: In no way is it a destination marathon, there are minimal if any traffic issues and there isn't an expo. The vast majority of runners will be from the Greater Portland area, who will simply get in their cars and drive home following the race. And yet, a popular local race was moved to Sunday. For what purpose? Does a race somehow gain prestige by being held on Sunday? Is it like a movie producer who adds just enough language, violence or sex to get his movie an R rating, somehow making it a "real" or "better" movie than one with with a lesser vulgarity rating? (It should be noted that half marathons seem to be no different, at least locally).

I am jealous of my friends who live back east. From their door step, they can drive three hours and be in any number of major U.S. cities and dozens of other mid-sized cities. Their universe of travel-friendly marathons is huge. Out here in the west, not so much. From where I sit, It's four hours to Seattle, seven to Boise and 12 to San Francisco. Despite the distance between major cities, there are a still a good number of marathons held each year within a reasonable driving distance. They are as follows:

Vernonia, OR (new in 2011)--Sunday April 10th
Eugene, OR--Sunday May 1st
Newport, OR--Saturday June 4th
Vancouver, WA (new in 2011)--Sunday June 19th
Foot Traffic Flat--July 4th every year
Portland, OR--Sunday October 9th

Portland is the only one that might be considered a destination race. And that might be stretching it (and given their EARLY-BIRD price of $135 for the 2011 race, save your money, buy a picture calendar instead).

I'm excited to run marathons, but I look at that schedule and it's frustrating. To toss salt in the wound, July 4th fell on a Sunday last year so the Foot Traffic Flat was out (though it will be a welcomed addition to my schedule next summer). Flying anywhere is expensive. Race fees are increasing (a vent for another day), and yet, there's a half dozen marathons spread throughout the year within 90 minutes of my house. Two of them aren't on Sunday. Portland and Eugene will never change. Why should they? They sell out every year (even at ridiculous prices). When word began to get out that Vancouver, and then Vernonia, were going to hold marathons, I really hoped they would run them on a Saturday.

Apparently not.

And so I will continue to find other challenges. Like running Newport, Seattle (Rock n Roll--Saturday June 25th) and the Foot Traffic Flat within a 30-day window. If my budget allows, maybe I'll add the Utah Valley marathon on June 11th to complete the month. Marathonguide.com has a map that can be filtered to show Saturday marathons only, but I've found so many inaccuracies that I've been slowly making my own list over the last few months. I'll post it soon. If you've run a Saturday marathon or know of one that should be added to the list, please let me know and I'll gladly do so.

I don't expect things to change. Marathons, the big ones at least, appear to be recession proof as organizers continue to increase costs but also continue to sell out. From a business standpoint, why mess with something if its wildly successful.

Anyway, I think that's all for that. Here's the first 5 miles of my run tomorrow (around 13.5 miles total) as I get ready for my first trail race (Silver Creek Falls half marathon) on November 6th and a flat and fast half marathon on November 20th. Fun, huh?

The Most Important Meal of YOUR Day

2010-09-28T07:41:00.000-07:00

We've been taught since we were little kids that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. It's the meal that gets you going and fuels your day, right? What about as a runner, your most important meal of the day is your post-run meal.

Studies have shown that the body has an increased ability to convert blood sugar to glycogen in the 15-30 minutes immediately following a workout. This ability gradually decreases until approximately two hours after your workout, when the conversion process rate returns to normal. Not only is the replenishment of glycogen essential to your training, but also to your recovery.

What foods are best for maximum replenishment and recovery?

Think about the cubicle-worker swamped with projects. They all have deadlines. The poor employee works feverishly to try to make progress on all of them but despite his/her best efforts each project is mediocre at best. It's not that the employee isn't skilled enough to handle each project. Quite the contrary. There was just too much going on all at once to give the proper attention to the most important projects.

Despite what you may see on the food tables at the end of your race, shoving a bagel covered in peanut butter in your mouth and then following it up with a handful of tortilla chips and salsa, a chocolate chip granola bar and finally some oranges and bananas is going to force your body in the same position as the employee with too many projects on which to focus.

If replenishment and recovery is your focus, then give your body every chance to do this job well. Don't expect the body to digest a hodgepodge of complex foods while also trying to maximize the glycogen conversion process. It's won't happen.

For glycogen stores to be replenished after an intense workout, the body's blood sugar levels must first return to normal. Only then can the blood sugar-to-glycogen conversion take place. Fruit is perhaps the most perfect catalyst for helping replenish the body's blood sugar levels. It is simple and easy to digest and breakdown and gets the nutrients to the body quicker than a bagel or bar.

Bananas are are a rich source of carbohydrates, calories and water. They also contain potassium and magnesium, two electrolytes lost through sweating, and even calcium and protein, which are vital to muscle repair. Oranges also contain calcium and potassium and provide sufficient amounts of vitamin C. Strawberries (which provide even more Vitamin C per serving than oranges) contain a variety of vitamins and antioxidants in addition to fiber, which can affect blood sugar levels. Combine all three of these fruits into a smoothie (with or without any other fruits you desire) and you have a perfect post-run meal. No dairy, refined sugars or any other additives are needed and will, in fact, diminish the effects of your fruit.

If replenishing your body and maximizing the recovery process is your goal, treat yourself to a cold fruit smoothie. it will be the most important meal of your day.

(Note: For additional reading, FoodnSport.com has an excellent two-part discussion on nutrition and athletic recovery. Part I. Part II)

The Fear of Failure and Success

2010-09-20T18:46:00.000-07:00

What is your true potential? What's keeping you from achieving it? What could you accomplish if you removed the barriers and pushed back the limits you have set for yourself?

Think about your current average running pace. Is it 8 minutes/mile? 10 minutes? 6 minutes? Do you think that you could take 7% off that pace? If the answer is no, how about 6%? 5%? Think this through for a moment until you reach a point where you think, "yeah, I could probably do that." Make this your new goal and begin today to work towards it today. How will this be possible? By taking away, not adding, a key component of many people's running.

Chances are you've read and maybe even implemented various strategies into your workouts already in an effort to run faster, longer. Popular training routines include fartleks, Yasso 800s, Hills, cross-training etc. Do what you wish with these, but we're going a different direction to reach these goals. Today is the day to change your mental approach to running by beginning now to replace negative thoughts with positive ones.

Some months ago, after I had set a 6% improvement goal, I had a great run and finished with a PR training pace, just off of the 6% improvement I was shooting for. I walked back into my house feeling super confident...so I thought. As I was giving my post-run analysis to my wife, though, negative thoughts began to enter my mind. They weren't complete sentences or even complete coherent thoughts, just negative feelings more than anything else. The basic message of these feelings? I had given everything I had to run that fast and there was no way I could do it again.

I had just finished my best run ever (to that point) and here I was questioning myself. This really bothered me and I spent considerable amounts of time in the following days exploring my feelings. Why didn't I think I could do it again?

I generalized my negative feelings into two types of fear.

First: The Fear of Failure.

Was I fearful of not making it to the end of a run if I pushed too hard? What if I ran out of energy and couldn't keep the pace? Then what? The answer is quite simple--I would slow down a little, or a lot. But it wouldn't be the end of the world. As the saying goes, there would be 1 billion Chinese people (and another 5.2 billion other people) who wouldn't care what I did. Let's eliminate the fear of not being able to finish from the list of possible restraints.

Would I consider myself a failure if I wasn't running as fast at the end of a run as I was at the beginning? Obviously not. I think. It's as irrational a fear as worrying about not being able to finish though. I'm running for myself. There are no points to be scored, no team to contribute to. It's not a matter of life or death and no one is relying on me to achieve any particular time, pace or distance.

So why the fear of failure? The only person I could possibly fail or let down is myself. And the only reason I would have to ever feel this way would be if I quit or gave less than I could have.

Second: The Fear of Success.

Why would anyone fear success? Maybe the expectations that come with it? Do I feel like you deserve it? Am I not willing to take on the responsibilities that come with it?

The point is this: most people perform far below their true potential because they set up false barriers to their true abilities. They put these limits in place and convince themselves there's no overcoming them.

What would happen, would could happen, what WILL happen when you strip away all of the negative thoughts, irrational fears and self-imposed limits and began to perform closer to your actual abilities? Any lingering fears of failure or success would be replaced with the satisfaction of knowing you DID accomplish something great and you would look forward to doing it again and again.

It is only when we recognize, think, and most importantly believe that barriers and limits can be moved that true progress and achievement will be made.

On Race-Day Discipline

2010-09-13T16:22:00.000-07:00

I ventured out for a long run on Saturday morning, one week after the Pocatello Marathon. I had run three miles earlier in the week just to loosen up and make sure all my muscles and systems were still intact, but Saturday was my first real training since returning home. It was a forgettable 15-miler. I finished in just under 2:04, cleaned up, consumed my morning fruit smoothie and went on with my day. As I sat watching college football during the afternoon, something about my run kept nagging at me. I couldn't put my finger on it until I started crunching numbers.

15 miles in 2:04. An 8:16/mile pace.

To have finished 26.2 miles in 4 hours (my current goal after three unsuccessful attempts), I would have had to run the final 11.2 miles in 1:56. A 10:21/mile pace.

This bothered me.

It bothered me for two reasons. First, short of an injury I can't think of any circumstance when I should not be able to run a 10:21 mile. Second, my 15-miler was a so-so run at best. I didn't feel great. I didn't even feel good. I still felt the effects of running downhill for 2 solid hours the week before. But I ran it at an 8:16/mile pace. And what was my strategy? Exactly what I DIDN'T do in Pocatello -- walk early and walk often. From the very first mile I was running 8 minutes and walking 1. Over and over again.

It bothered me because I already knew the benefits of walking early, often and regularly. I had done it in my long training runs. Heck, I had don't it on my 5-milers just to solidify the habit. But once the gun went off in Pocatello, this strategy went right out the window and I paid for it in the final 10 miles.

I'm so disciplined in every other aspect of my running. I'm a schedule-oriented person who has the number of miles I'm going to run on a particular day scheduled and written on my calendar weeks and months in advance, depending on how far out race day is. While in training I keep to my planned diet right down to the number of regular and frozen bananas in each smoothie or which days I'll allow myself to put a little bit of olive oil on my whole wheat pasta. My pre-run/race rituals are the same every day.

What bothered me so much on Saturday, as I was watching my alma mater get rolled by what should have been an inferior team (no, not Virginia Tech), was the realization that I am so undisciplined once a race starts despite working so hard to be exactly the opposite during my training phase.

I recalled what I thought and wrote just a day or so prior to my first marathon, "I began a...plan that I believed would help me achieve my goal or running a marathon. I put my trust in this plan and haven't deviated from it since." That plan has been refined a bit as I have gone from one marathon to the next this summer, but the principles have remained constant.

I'm healed, I'm rested and I'm ready to tackle another one. The next one will be different though. If I stick to my plan and it blows up, fine. I'll go back to the drawing board and start over. But I don't feel like I've given myself a chance to achieve the kind of success I desire or have worked for.

And that bothers me.

(Side Note: The Portland Marathon in now less than a month away. Good luck to all my running friends participating, especially to the three whom I know will be making their first marathon attempt. Keep up the good work!)

Pocatello Marathon Recap: Experiencing Gratitude

2010-09-06T13:53:00.000-07:00

First things first: The race organizers, staff and volunteers were absolutely top notch. All the trains ran on time, the aid stations were where they were supposed to be, carrying what they said they would be stocked with, volunteers at each station were enthusiastic and supportive and the finish line area was well organized and easy to navigate. And although I heard a few people gripe about non-runners, including family, friends and kids, not being allowed in the recovery area (where all of the food/drinks were), I contend this made a huge difference in being able to move (gingerly) through the area smoothly. Top to bottom, this is the most well-organized race I've participated in of any distance.

This is also the farthest I've traveled for a race and I must say I'm not really a fan. 800 miles/11 hours in the car Thursday (to take my little brother back to school) left me hanging out (and locked out of his apartment) with not much to do most of the day Friday. After the race, I returned to a cousin's house to shower and get a short nap in before driving 4 hours back to Boise where I saw some friends, watched some football and got a few hours of sleep before leaving at 4am Sunday for the final 7 hours back home. The race festivities were great, but the down time and the drive time made for a long four days.

The starting line...in the daytime
(courtesy of Vitit Kantabutra)

The 350 marathon participants boarded charter buses at the finish line at 5am and were taken up to the starting line. It was dark and we were in the middle of nowhere when the driver pulled over to the side of the road, opened the door and declared, "We're here, don't leave anything on the bus." The people immediately around me hadn't run this race before and so our general consensus was, "We're where?"

It was partly cloudy and the moon was covered. We were in the middle of the Idaho wilderness at 5:15am. It was dark. The driver told us there was road about 50 yards from us. Turn right, he said, and then take the first right until you see the UPS truck (which took our drop bags to the finish line) at the starting line.

The "starting line" was a farmer's driveway. The line of portable toilets lined a sheep-pen and many (including me) sat down against the barn until it was time to go. Not exactly what I had imagined, but interesting, nonetheless.

It was still dark when the race started at 6:15am. As a pack we made our way down the driveway and onto the road. The first 13 miles were downhill. All downhill. I wasn't prepared for that. After a while I started to look forward to something flat, or even uphill. Just something different. That would come, but not for a while.

The sun eventually came up and darkness gave way to a perfect morning. Not a whisper of wind could be felt and the temperature was perfect. Around mile 7 I turned my music off and talked to a lady from Philadelphia that I had been running with for a few miles. During a pause in the conversation, I noticed a strange sound: silence. Miles from anything, on a closed road in a canyon. Except for the sound of shoes hitting the ground, it was pure silence. I kept my music off for a while and just enjoyed the sound of nothing.

Being on the road, my diet wasn't as ideal as it could have been. I attended the pre-race pasta party and had some salad dressing and a little bit of alfredo sauce--more fat and oil than I usually consume prior to a long run or race (big mistake #1). I also inexplicably ate a banana as I drove to the bus pickup site on Saturday morning (big mistake #2). I don't know why. I know I get stomach cramps when I eat the morning of a run. And sure enough, in the first few miles, an annoying stomach cramp greeted me. Nothing debilitating, but definitely uncomfortable. It wouldn't ever go away and I ran the rest of the race feeling it.

As for my race strategy, I had every intention of running 8 minutes and walking 1. I had done this in my training runs, knew the benefits of walking early and was committed to doing so...right up until I got to the Mile 1 marker and knew I had been going for close to 8 minutes (it was too dark to see my watch). At this point I fought an internal battle: on one hand, I knew I needed to walk. I had committed to doing so and again, knew I would reap benefits later. On the other hand, nobody else was walking. We had only gone a mile. What would people think if I pulled off to the side so early? I even thought of faking an injury so I could justify walking, but I didn't want anyone else stopping to ask me if I was alright.

This was all so stupid. I wasn't there to win the race and I didn't know a single other soul running with me. Who cares what they thought? But I couldn't do it. I couldn't walk. So on I went (big mistake #3). I did walk through the aid stations in the third, sixth, ninth and tenth miles but that was it for the first half, which I finished in roughly 1:55.

At the Mile 13 marker I noticed a lady who was walking at every mile marker for 20-30 seconds. For a few miles I would pass her while she was walking and then she would catch up and pass me when she started running again. Two different strategies and yet we were essentially in the same position (until mile 16 when she pulled far enough ahead that I couldn't catch up during her walk breaks). I knew I had made a big mistake in not walking regularly like I had planned.

The second half of the race consisted of some light rolling hills. Nothing too extreme except for a pretty good hill from mile 20 to 21, but the rolling hills seemed to roll "up" as we came back into Pocatello. I did walk for a minute or so every mile from miles 13-20 (the aid stations were almost a mile apart during this stage, so that make it a little easier to track), but the effect of running downhill for two hours without regular breaks caught up at mile 20. The hill to mile 21 finished me off, and the final 5 miles became a combination of walking and running, just trying to get to the finish line.

It's amazing to me how much my time suffers in the last 5 miles. It happened in both Seattle and Newport (well, in Newport it was more like that last 9 miles). I need to work on this.

As I passed the aid station at mile 24 I began to have a frank and open discussion with my internal coach. It was one-sided and went something like this (think drill sargent mode, without the profanity): "Why are you walking? You've walked plenty the last few miles. You're not here to walk, you're here to run. You've got two miles left and you WILL run them. So get it together right now, find something left in the tank, dig deep and finish this thing." And with that, I took off running as hard as I could.

I only lasted a minute or two at this pace, but that was fine. I was running again. When I couldn't do it any longer, I walked. My internal coach continued: "Good. See, you did have something left. Now do it again. Now!" And I took off running again.

With the finish line in view,
walking was unacceptable

Over and over again I would run as hard as I could and then walk for a few moments, each time resetting my mind and body with some positive, motivating self talk. Mile 25 passed and mile 26 approached. The final turn towards the finish was made around the 25.5 mark and I told myself there would be no more walking on the final stretch. As I fired up the engines one last time I made the turn and saw two runners in front of me who had passed me a few miles earlier. I was going to catch them.

With spectators on both sides of the road cheering us on, I passed mile 26 and briefly slowed to a walk for just a step before my internal coach screamed "NO! GO!" And so I went, on through the finish line.

I finished in 4:34:05. Slower than Seattle, but slightly faster than Newport. I felt good about it though. I know I've only run three, dozens less than some of the runners I spoke with during the weekend, but crossing the finish line never gets old. The emotions are always raw and the sense of accomplishment strong. Hours earlier, just before the gun went off, 350 of us had moved quietly as one pack towards the starting line in darkness. Looking around, there were runners of all shapes, sizes and attire. Each of us was about to embark on our own separate journey. We had all traveled separate paths to arrive at that moment, but we all had the same destination in mind. In our final few seconds together there was an unmistakable feeling of camaraderie. As a group, we were about to do something great.

To come together and see those same people in the runners-only recovery area afterwards, we knew we had done it. Our times weren't plastered on our foreheads and nobody knew if you had come in first or last. But you had a Pocatello Marathon finisher's medal around your neck, and that meant something. You had played a role and contributed to the greatness that had been achieved that day.

It doesn't matter where the race is, at what elevation it's run, what the grade of the slope is, or how long it took for everyone to finish, 26.2 miles is 26.2 miles. We all willingly paid money and spent time traveling to this one place so that we could have this experience. It's one to be remembered and cherished. For on this day, we were able to do something most people will never attempt or even desire to do. Maybe they don't think they physically can. Maybe they think it's too hard. Maybe the just don't want to.

Tired and a little beat up,
but still smiling

As I cross the finish line, as much pain and fatigue as I may be feeling, I think about how grateful I am to be able to do such a thing. How grateful I am to experience such a feeling. How grateful I am to be around people who are experiencing the same feelings and are equally grateful for them. I'm grateful that I didn't quit after my first week of running in June 2009, when running 2 miles on a track put me on the ground gasping for air. Or during the winter months, when day after day of rain, wind and darkness did it's best to beat me down. Or after Newport, when I wasn't sure I wanted to run ever again.

I ran my first marathon the first weekend of the summer. Now, 92 days later on the last weekend of the summer, I ran my third. It's been quite a summer. One in which I've come to realize I'm grateful for something that 14 months ago would have been unthinkable: I'm grateful I can run.

Time to find another race...

Running The Gap--Challenges Await

2010-09-01T16:12:00.000-07:00

2010 Pocatello Marathon -
Running The Gap

The last time (and only time) I've run a race at a significantly higher elevation than where I live and train was October 2009, when I ran the Run Like Hell half marathon in Bend, OR. At the time I had been running for all of about 4 months, but had knocked out my first half marathon a few weeks before without much difficulty. I was unconcerned with the rate I was adding miles each week, collectively and on individual runs and I didn't worry about silly things like pace. The very thought of walking was, well, an unacceptable sign of weakness--basically I knew what I was doing.

12 miles of hills, headwinds and a lack of oxygen later, I was hunched over, hands on my knees, sucking air wondering if I was going to be walking last 1.1 miles to the finish line (I didn't, but I wouldn't call it running either).

Fast forward 10 months to today. As I prepare to leave for Idaho tomorrow morning for Saturday's Running The Gap marathon in Pocatello I look back at my 4-month old running self and cringe. So undisciplined. So stupid.

Pocatello will present a couple of challenges:

1. Elevation. The race starts at around 6000ft and heads downhill for the first 14 miles before settling around 4500ft for the remainder of the race. I've solicited advice from some of my Twitter followers and DailyMile friends (thanks jokach and Heather) and done some reading on if I should get a run in prior to Saturday or not. It seems to be split down the middle, but for different reasons. Those in favor of running on Thursday night or Friday morning seem to emphasize the psychological benefits--knowing what to expect on race day. Those against it are more concerned with the physiological effect.

Coach Roy Benson of Running Times offered this advice to a question received by another runner:

"To minimize the potential bad side effects of your late arrival, in order to spare your precious stores of glycogen during this taper period, don’t do anything hard, fast or anaerobic. Just relax and chill out. Then on race day, go out a bit slower than you’ve been planning."

I like that. It makes sense to me. I was already planning to go out slower than normal anyway. I'm still undecided though. I'm staying with my little brother on Thursday night. He lives a block away from a track. It might be too much. I'll probably sneak over and run a few laps on Thursday afternoon (after 11 hours of driving, I'm going to be itching to do something to get loose).

2. Pace. On a perfect day in a perfect world, I'd PR. I'd run the pace I've been training at, break 3:45 and shove it in the eye of all the pace calculators and coaches advising to add at least 1% in time per 1000 feet of elevation. My 4-month old running self would have hit the starting line with this attitude--and probably would have been sitting on the side of the road by mile 6. Truth be told, I don't really have a goal in mind because I don't know what it's going to be like (see challenge #1 above). My goal is simply to find a comfortable pace and settle into it.

Another brother was out visiting from Utah a few weeks ago. I asked him about the difference in running in the two locations. What he said was interesting to me (though some of you are probably going to be saying, "uhh...yeah, R, no kidding). He had just run a handful of miles (in Oregon) before stopping to wait for other family members to finish their runs. When a certain sister got lost in the park, he went back out to find her. He said his legs recovered much quicker in Oregon than after a run in Utah.

Flip that around for me this weekend. I know I need to religiously take walk breaks or I won't make it. 8 minutes on, 1 minute off. Even 2 minutes in the early going if that's what it takes. I can't let my legs get to the "tired" stage too early because they won't recover in the thin air. I've been practicing this pattern during my runs the last few weeks, but I can't just throw it to the wind on Saturday if I find myself behind my 3:45 pace. Why? Because of challenge #3:

3. It's still 26.2 miles. The distance hasn't changed. It must be respected.

With that, I'm off to pack my bags. 4am is coming early tomorrow. I appreciate the advice and encouragement that many of your have offered through various outlets. If you haven't already, you can find me on Twitter, DailyMile or on Facebook. I update each site with various information, but I use Twitter for random thoughts and things I come across, DailyMile is my main training-tracking site and Facebook is where I put the pictures. Be sure to check them out!

I'll post my results on Saturday when I can and look for a recap and a new post early next week!

On Sickness & Injury

2010-08-30T07:22:00.000-07:00

For a runner in training, the two worst things that can happen are injury and sickness.

For purposes here, let's make sure we differentiate between injury and discomfort. A little bit of knee pain after a few miles is discomfort. Purple toenails are also filed under discomfort. What Ted Spiker (The Marathon Virgin) did to his ankle a few weeks back is an injury. So is a stress fracture (but not a shin splint). Discomfort you can work through even if it means slowing down or not going as many miles. Injuries keep you in the house with your shoes and gear packed in the closet. For the injured runner, there isn't much internal argument between the mind and body: they're typically on the same page and agree that continuing to train is a bad idea.

Sickness is a different ballgame (and if we need to define sickness also, let's say anything short of being rushed to the emergency room or requiring constant bed rest). In this case the mind and body can find themselves at odds with one another. The mind says go because it's just a cold, it's not that bad and you can't afford to miss a long run. The body thinks otherwise and is pleading for time to rest and repair itself. And on it goes.

Which power wins this battle? The mind or the body? Which should be given priority when deciding if that 18 mile Saturday morning run is worth it?

Let's use the game of Risk as an illustration. For those unfamiliar, the basic premise of Risk is to accumulate armies and wage battle against an opponent's armies in an effort to achieve "global domination." Various strategies are required, including knowing when and where to attack, when to cut losses, when and where to reposition armies and when to take defensive measures against an ensuing attack.

Any guess what's coming next?

Imagine the following scenario being played out: Player 1 (P1) sees Player 2 (P2) stockpiling armies in a territory neighboring one of his own. As the size of P2's army grows, P1 knows an attack is inevitable and begins to take immediate measures to protect and defend his territory. And then it happens: P2 initiates a battle and P1 is left to defend his territory.

P2 may take several turns to fight this battle, but ultimately there are two possible outcomes: either P2 will be victorious over P1 and claim the territory or P2's army will be reduced or even eliminated by the defense and possible counter-attack of P1.

To make the analogy, P1 is the body and P2 is sickness.

Most people know and can sense when symptoms of sickness are coming on. This is P2 accumulating armies in preparation for an attack. At this point most people (runners in training especially) scramble to defend themselves with any variety of measures: increasing Vitamin C intake, drinking more fluids, getting extra rest, taking over-the-counter products like Zicam or Airborne. They hope and pray they've done enough to prevent an all out battle against sickness, but then, like in Risk, it happens: the body comes under attack and goes into full battle mode against that sickness.

Back to the game for a moment. If P2 wages battle over the course of a few turns, P1 has a few options to consider on their turn. Two of these options include sending additional armies to the territory being attacked or sending these same armies elsewhere to fight other battles. The first option is surely the most prudent move, especially if P2 has a significant numbers advantage. True, no one has ever won a game of Risk without ever being on the offensive, but most all games are lost by failing to play effective defense.

The body has the same two options: it can focus its resources on fighting the sickness or it can spread those resources thin across various physical tasks. To extend the analogy further, the body's armies in this case are units of energy. What can the body do with available energy? Here are three possibilities, among several others.

1. Repair and regenerate itself
2. Digestion
3. Physical activity

Resources should go where they are needed most

If the body is under attack and needs all available resources sent to the front lines to fight off the sickness, the prudent move is to send them there. Asking your body to use this energy for digestion or physical activity will only prolong and/or deepen the illness. Surely some energy is required for both of these things, but this requirement can be minimized by consuming easily digested foods (like fruit) and by (brace yourself) shutting down your training program until your body gives the "all clear" signal. As difficult as this may be for the mind to accept, it's what the body needs.

By forcing yourself into your shoes and out the door for a strenuous workout, vast amount of additional armies are being directed away from the body's most pressing and important battles.

Furthermore, each of the training runs in a program have a purpose (speed workouts, tempo runs, hills, etc). As this specific purpose will not be achieved while the body is not well, slogging through a run while the body is sick provides little benefit to your actual training. Chances are good that it won't be a productive run anyway, and, while there may a temporary relief from the symptoms of the sickness, you can be sure the armies of the sickness will return with a vengeance once the body returns to its normal resting state. However, because energy has been directed to the exertion of a workout, the body will not be able to fight it as effectively as it may have.

The next time you are sick and struggling to decide if you should get stick to your training plan or take a day off to let your body recover, do you body a favor and rest. Failure to do so could allow the sickness to drag out for days and even weeks -- truly destroying your training program. In the short-term this will be difficult for the mind to accept. But once the body's armies have conquered the armies of the sickness, you'll be confident knowing the battle was quick, that the body fought it as efficiently as possible and that there are no lingering effects standing in your way to training the very best that you can.

Where Do I Go From Here?

2010-08-03T19:50:00.000-07:00

I have not died. I just haven't posted in a while. I thought I would have more time during the summer months: no early morning scripture class to teach, more hours of daylight, I can run in the morning before work etc. Not so much. I don't know where the time has gone, maybe I've been on my hands and knees pleading with my grass to grow (and daring their weedy counterparts to continue growing) more than I realized. Whatever the reason, I apologize for the lack of posting.

If you have continued to visit regularly during the past few weeks, you've noticed some changes to the site. I'm hoping to have a sort of re-launch in a week or two (waiting on my little sister to finish up some work on some graphics). The changes grew out of the fact that after completing the Newport Marathon on June 5th and then the Seattle Rock 'n' Roll Marathon on June 26th my journey changed. I had run the marathon. It was done. And I was left with the question of "now what?"

I stepped away for a few weeks (from the website, not from running) and examined what it was I was hoping to accomplish by spending precious time writing about running. I thought about why someone might want to come to this site, read what was available and look forward to coming back. I knew it couldn't be just another running blog and or training site with training schedules, Top 10 lists and travelogues (though some of these things will still be mixed in from time to time). Rather, it needed to be something previously unavailable. Something that would fill a void. But it also needed to reflect who I am and why and how I run.

Here's who I am:

I started running June12th, 2009.
I am an average runner--nothing special.
After running my first 5k, I decided I was going to run a marathon--and I did it 11 months later.
Before running my first marathon, I knew I wanted to run lots of marathons--and I did my 2nd just 22 days after my first.
I follow the Fruit Predominant Diet--only fruit until dinner; and very little/if any fats, oils, meat, dairy or refined sugars.
I don't cross-train.
I believe mental training is equal in importance to physical training
I believe the spirit, the sheer enjoyment of just getting out and running, is essential--thus, my mind-body-spirit approach
I run to compete against only myself (and occasionally my dad) and for personal accomplishment and fulfillment

So that's what's coming.

A few quick running updates:

I've backed it off a little bit in July. After the two marathons in June I felt like my body was worn down and needed some extra recovery. The difference has been shorter Saturday runs (12-16 miles). Monday, Wednesday, Thursday schedule has remained the same.

I've started employing Jeff Galloway's run/walk method. Who'd have thought, huh? 8 minutes running, 1 minute walking. Also using more of a glide form. The first two weeks I shattered my PRs in the 5k, 5 mile, 8 mile and 10k distances including...

a 6th place overall finish in a local 10k last Saturday (out of 74). I've never been anywhere close to a top 10 finish in any race, so I was pleased...and a little unsure about what to do when I'm near the front. It shouldn't matter, but it was weird.

I've decided to run the Pocatello Marathon on September 4th. I'm driving my little brother back to school the day prior, so it made sense to stop and do it. It will be my first trip back up into the elevation since Run Like Hell last October. I'm a completely different runner now though, so I'm not too worried about it.

Seattle Rock 'n' Roll Marathon Recap: The Race

2010-06-29T21:18:00.000-07:00

(This recap will be separated into two parts: The actual race and everything else. You can click through to Part II HERE)

Traveling is usually a stressful experience. Traveling with kids, even more so. Traveling with kids to run a marathon probably isn't the brightest idea ever. However, with the help of my mother-in-law who came to visit/help from Las Vegas, my wife and I were both able to participate in the Seattle Rock 'n' Roll Marathon and 1/2 marathon. My kids were troopers, Grandma was entertaining and our weekend activity plan was executed smoothly (although we almost had an bathroom emergency on the light rail on Friday - when a 4-year old needs to go to the bathroom, being on or near the Seattle light rail is not a good thing - there are no bathrooms ANYWHERE, including the stations. Thank goodness for Macey's).

I met the 3:45 pace leader (Steve) in corral #6 and tried to get an idea of how this was going to work. Was he going to run a negative split, an even pace or run different paces throughout the race? There was a handful of people hanging around near Steve and determined this would be my running group for the next few hours. After a good effort by a young lady on the national anthem, the elite runners set off and the rest of us walked towards the start line, each corral being sent out approximately 90 seconds apart. (Note: Pictures were literally taken on the run, so some of them are a little blurry)

Miles 1-4

The first few miles were all about getting comfortable and not tripping over anyone else. Our pace was the same as the 1:52 half marathon pace group, which had 15-20 people running together, so it was pretty congested for a while. We came upon the first band and aid station, made a turn onto Martin Luther King Jr Way and gradually made our way towards the waterfront of Lake Washington. The pace felt comfortable, though I was dismayed when we passed the 1 mile marker and my Nike+ sportband read 1.10 miles. Great, I thought, I'm already off by 10%. I logged a 5k time of 26:20, but the crowd of runners all around was starting to get to me. I had been running right with Steve, but we were about 45 seconds behind where he wanted us to be.

Miles 4-9

In the 5th mile we encountered our first hill. As some people slowed down, Steve started navigating his way through the crowd and I followed him. At mile 6 I got through the aid station faster than Steve, the rest of our group and the entire 1:52 group and suddenly felt the freedom of running with a little bit of space around me. Pleased with this feeling, I ran free and loose, increasing my distance from Steve little by little and clocked in at the 10k mark at 53:18. These miles were some of the most scenic of the entire course. Lake Washington was to our right and lining the roads were large green trees, lots of green grass and large waterfront homes on our left. Out in the distance the bridge to Mercer Island could be seen. Soon enough we would be on the bridge. I occasionally looked back to see where Steve was but must have let my mind wander for a mile or so because around mile 8 I looked again and he was directly behind me. I was running a consistent pace, but he must have sped up to get back on pace. Whatever the case, psychologically it was a little jarring and I felt the pressure of trying to keep up instead of the free and loose feeling I had enjoyed for the previous few miles.

Miles 9-13

Just past mile 9 (where my time registered as 1:17:14), the marathoners split from the half runners and ran a 2 1/2 mile out and back across Lake Washington. It was a bit windy and each side of the bridge was slightly uphill. Keeping up with Steve was getting more difficult and all but myself and one other runner had fallen back off the pace. After rejoining the half runners in the I-90 expressway tunnel we emerged to a view of Downtown Seattle, including our first view of Quest Field. Miles 12 and 13 continued on I-90 towards the downtown area. It was nice to be separated from the half runners for all of these miles. I could tell they were much more bunched up than we were. I did all I could to keep up with Steve, but as we crossed the 13.1 marker (1:53:02), I had to slow my pace. I was still feeling good but needed to back it off for a little while.

Miles 13-17

There wasn't much by way of spectators on the highway itself, but as we excited and ran into downtown the cheering of the crowd was inspiring. People were yelling, bells were ringing, I even saw a few cowbells. It felt like we were running down a parade route. At mile 14.5 I came upon a guy running by himself that looked about the same age as I am. I asked how he was doing, he answered he felt terrible. He said it was his first marathon and asked if I had done this before. We talked for a bit as we ran through town towards the Alaska Way Viaduct. His goal was 4 hours and I offered him the encouragement that if he kept his current pace through the next 5 or 6 miles, he'd make it (I also told him the next 5 or 6 miles were going to suck, but running the last 5 or 6 would feel pretty cool). We entered the Battery Street Tunnels around mile 16 and emerged shortly thereafter onto Aurora Avenue. The next 5 miles were the most difficult of the entire course.

Miles 17-22

I had mentally and physically prepared myself for hills. I ran many miles worth of hills in the weeks leading up to Saturday. To run up Aurora Avenue and see the hill that awaited me was not something I was prepared for, however. It was long and it was brutal. I kept telling myself to pick up my knees and let my body just fall forward from step to step and it seemed to work. I maintained a fairly even, if slow, pace up the hill. About halfway up was an aid station where a volunteer was holding a big bucket of gummy bears. Any other time, I wouldn't think twice about turning them down. I think they are nasty. But on this day, at this time, I remembered how badly I had wanted something, anything, with flavor in the latter miles of the Newport Marathon, and so I opted for a handful of chewable bears. They tasted so good and I tried to savor them as long as possible while trying not to inhale them into my lungs. I passed the 30k marker at 2:45:48 and knew I still had a great shot at finishing under 4 hours. The climb continued until I saw two things that, at this point, made my day. First, a condo complex named "The Summit." I figured this must be indicating we had made it to the top. Second, a lady holding a sign which read: "Dear Complete Stranger - I don't know you, but I'm proud of you." Never were kinder words written or conveyed on a marathon banner.

At the turnaround mark at 18.5 miles we got to see the descent we had just enjoyed after our tough climb. Truth be told, I don't remember any descent after our tough climb. But it certainly must have been there, because we were going to climb back up to the top of it. I continued my slow even pace to the top and began my descent back towards the Battery Street Tunnels. At mile 20 I was struck by the scene on the other side of the road, of those climbing the first hill. Grown men were off to the side of the road in tears. Athletic looking 20-somethings tried to stretch, massage and rub all sorts of muscles, as they looked up the hill in seeming despair. Others were walking slowly, their heads down, some muttering words of encouragement to themselves, others expressing disappointment in what was transpiring. I started to think about the marathon and what it does to the body and mind. Quite literally it beats you up and breaks you down to nothing. Mentally, physically, perhaps psychologically, the toll of the miles, the hills, the energy exerted, the thought of all of the preparation put in and all of the other experiences that occur in those few hours push the body to its limits (and sometimes passed) as to what it can endure. I know what those people were feeling. I felt it three weeks ago at almost the exact same point in the race. It's not a good feeling. It is the feeling of fear--fear that perceived failure is becoming a reality and there's seemingly nothing you can do about it. If I learned anything from Newport, it's that these are the kind of thoughts you can't even begin to allow yourself to think or they will destroy whatever shred of confidence you may have left.

I looked at my watch and knew if I could just maintain pace for another 6.2 miles, I would finish in under 4 hours. 6.2 miles - just a 10k I told myself.

Miles 22-26.2

The camber of the road inside the Battery Street Tunnel was terrible and there was no relief from it, even on the tiny sidewalks lining the road. It put my left foot far above my right, and after 22 miles this caused some pretty significant pain in my left hip (and even more pain the following day). We came out of the tunnel and back on the Alaska Way Viaduct, this time on top (on the way out we were on the lower portion) and got another look at Quest Field. At mile 23 we passed the turnoff to the finish line and could see lines of people in both races running the final 1/2 mile to the finish line. They looked like a line of ants all following each other down the ramp around the 180 degree corner and towards the finish line. I heard many people complain how terrible it was for us to have to run past the off ramp and still have three more miles still to go, but I didn't care. I had slowed my pace significantly at this point but I had not walked yet, with the exception of a few water stations. I wasn't going to walk through them, but I decided during the 2nd half of the race that it was more important to get nice relaxed sips of water (and Cytomax) than it was to slosh them up towards my face and hope I got what I needed as I continued to run.

At the 24 mile mark (3:42:00) my run slowed to a walk. Not a slow walk like in Newport, it was definitely a walk with a purpose, but it was a walk nonetheless. This lasted just a short time and then I got going again and ran to the next aid station at 24.5 miles. I employed the run/walk strategy for the next two miles, which included a 4-story climb back to the top of the Viaduct at mile 25. At 25.5, at long last, we made a sharp right turn and ran town the ramp to street level for the final 1/2 mile. At the bottom of the ramp spectators were in abundance and were cheering loudly as they waited for us weary runners to pass by. We made a left turn through a parking lot and then another left onto Occidental Avenue, where for the first time we could see the actual finish line, just a few hundred yards in front of us. The spectators lining both sides of the street 4 and 5 people deep behind the police barricades willed us on and everyone around me, myself included, started running just a little bit hard as we ran for home.

I crossed the line in 4:07:22 and knew that I had done all I could do. I had no regrets and no disappointments. My time is still a bit slower than I would like but it improved by 27 minutes from Newport. I was better prepared, however, mentally and physically. I was beat up but I was smiling. I would live to run another day and I would enjoy it. My wife, dad, mom and sister were in the finishing area waiting for me (they had all run the half marathon) and it was a nice moment for all of us.

Final Thoughts

I'm not sure where I go from here. In order to run another marathon (Saturday races only) and to do so somewhat economically, I probably have to venture to Idaho (Pocatello (9/4/10)) Utah (Park City (8/21/10), Top of Utah (9/18/10), Layton (10/9/10)) or Nevada (Mesquite (11/21/10)), but none of these races are for a few months and all of them are at significantly higher elevations. Unfortunately there aren't very many half marathons in my area either so I don't know what to do. I'm taking it easy this week but I need to find another race to run. Yes, I'm addicted to running. I need a purpose though. Something to put on my calendar and train for.

There's a 24-rule in my house: Anything I say about running within 24 hours of finishing a marathon is not to be taken seriously. Today is Tuesday and I feel fine. Tomorrow I'll venture out for a few miles and see how I feel. Saturday I'll probably run between 14 and 16 miles, maybe more. On Sunday I turn 28 years old. If I had told my then-turning 27-year old self a year ago that I would run two marathons before I was 28, well, you can guess how that would have been received. But I'm here and I love it.

I thank all of you for all of your support and for following this blog, however long you've been doing so. This site will probably be undergoing some changes in the next few weeks so don't be shocked if information or pages disappear and reappear at random times. My goal is to post something informative at least once a week (less of me; more training and preparation strategies), so keep checking back.

Until then, happy running.

Seattle Rock 'n' Roll Marathon Recap: Race Organization

2010-06-29T21:17:00.000-07:00

If you haven't yet read my Seattle Rock 'n' Roll marathon recap, you can do so HERE. There's so much that goes into a race weekend, though, that I felt like everything other than the actual running needed it's own post. There's the organization of the race itself, the expo, transportation and lodging issues and a few other items to mention here. Let's get right to it:

I had never been to a race with an expo before so I didn’t have any expectations. Upon entering the Quest Events Center on Friday afternoon the party-like atmosphere was in full swing. Bib pickup was quick and efficient as was the t-shirt and swag bag pickup. The sponsor booth area was fairly crowded and I realized later that I had missed the 2011 sign up booth, where I could have registered for next year's race for a mere $55. There were various freebies (mostly food/drink samples) being handed out but nothing I absolutely had to have. Most everything for sale was at retail price or above. Grade: B

Swag Bag: Ehh. A few useful items, like some Zicam allergy gel and cold sore gel, mini bottles of olive oil and balsamic vinegar, a package of Cytomax powder and a $10 off $50 purchase at Sports Authority, but nothing that I really said "Wow!" or "Sweet!" to. I don't have a dog, but I'll give the healthy dog treats to my parents' dog so he can turn his nose up at them. Most everything else found its way into the hotel garbage can. The shirts are quality tech shirts from Brooks. If you hope to run in this shirt, however, be warned that they size big. I'm 5'11" and what I would call and a slim to average build and my medium-sized shirt fits if I'm wearing it around casually, but it's too big to run in. My wife got a size small, which fits her much the same way, but is just about the right size for me to run in. Grade: B-

At the starting line village the next morning, the UPS drop off/pickup was simple, fast and efficient. Can't ask for anything more than that. There was plenty of water available and I believe there was food also, but I didn't look very hard. There were more portable toilets than I have ever seen in my life, but there were still long lines at every one of them. My understanding is that participant drop off site was a nightmare (as should be expected with 27,000 runners), and the shuttle busses from the finish line had more issues as the morning went on (also to be expected). I stayed at the Days Inn around the corner and walked to the starting line, so I didn’t have to deal with any of these issues. Grade: B

Speaking of the Days Inn, yes, it was literally around the corner from the starting line. And yes, it was a dive of a motel. But it was worth every penny not to have to a) pay more for a hotel near the finish line and then wait in line at 4am to catch shuttle to the starting line or b) stress and fight the traffic to the participant drop-off point and then still have to walk a considerable distance to the starting area (and potentially miss your corral start). My wife and I stayed in our room until shortly after 6am and then enjoyed a leisurely walk to the starting area where we took in the sights and sounds, dropped off our bags, relaxed for a few minutes and then made our way to our respective corrals just prior to the Star-Spangled Banner being sung and the elite runners being sent off. You get what you pay for in terms of hotel rooms, but the Days Inn, despite its drawbacks, was worth every penny. Accommodations Grade: C-. Location/Convenience Grade: A+

The 20 aid stations were spaced evenly from one another and the volunteers were all cheerful and supportive, not bored and miserable. It made a huge difference. I also appreciated that the Cytomax tables always came before water (so there was never confusion as to what you were getting) and that tables were set up on both sides of the street, so there weren't any kamikaze runners darting across the street for the last cup of liquid. There were two or three stations with Gu gel, one with gummy bears (which, at mile 16, I couldn't resist) and one with pretzels (which I should have resisted). My wife tells me that supplies were running low on the half marathon course, but there was plenty of everything on the full course. Grade: A

The spectators were great. There were a few miles at the end when there weren't very many people (we were on the freeway), but there were crowds hovering on ever bridge and overpass that we ran by. The finish line area was 4 or 5 people deep for the final 1/4 mile. Better yet, spectators cheered throughout the race, not just for the one or two people they were there to see and support. This makes a huge difference, especially for those of us who didn't have anyone on the course supporting us (my family members were all running). A very special thank you goes to the lady standing around mile 18 holding a sign which read: "Dear Complete Stranger - I don't know you, but I'm proud of you." I acknowledged her sign as I passed, she offered a few words of encouragement to me and I went on my way, a little tear in my eye. Grade: A

Post race festivities were what you would expect. I got my picture taken, was given a heavy, high quality finisher's medal (which was different than the 1/2 finisher medal--THANK YOU) and made my way through the normal food tables of water, Cytomax, granola bars, bananas, oranges, chips, crackers, bagels etc. I don't drink, but I understand there was beer also. There was plenty of room to move around, take pictures, sit and relax. The medical area was clearly marked as was the family meet-up area. The gear bag pickup provided by UPS was just as smooth and easy as the drop off was. Grade: B+

I didn't stick around for the post-race Tonic concert. You'll have to read about that somewhere else. Grade: Incomplete

The Seattle light rail system worked well for us. After leaving the post-race recovery area, we walked a short distance to the Stadium Station, paid $2.25 each for a ticket and then enjoyed a quiet stress-free 20-minute ride back to the Tukwila Station (about 2 miles from the hotel), where my mother-in-law and kids met us with the car (there were also numerous city busses and hotel shuttles at the Tukwila station if you were parked at your nearby hotel). We used this same route to get to and from the expo on Friday and avoided the downtown traffic/parking mess and costs. Grade: A-

If I have one complaint, it's this: The bands. I realize is a "Rock 'n' Roll" marathon and in no way am I asking to get rid of the bands. It's all part of the experience and I get that. I'm just not a real big music guy and I didn't care for a single one of them. In fact, I found many of them more annoying than inspirational. There were a few I might listen to if I needed some good background music while driving, writing a paper or making dinner. Not so much for gutting out 26.2 miles though. Others will surely see this the other way. Fine. The quality of the bands reached a low point at mile 24 when we were greeted by some group with a cross-dressing lead singer screaming death into his mic. On the way back in after the final turnaround, said cross-dresser had stripped down to his skimpy underwear and was breaking things as he continued his screaming. Not my thing. Grade: C

I would run this race again. I should have remembered to sign up at the expo for $55 but I wish the race organizers would have been a little more merciful and/or gracious for our participation. Instead, arriving home late Saturday night and getting a post-race reminder to sign up for next years race only to find out that the price has been increased to $105 before November 30th (and a staggering $135 after) felt a little like a slap in the face. Congratulations, you sold out 28,000 spots at the current price months in advance. So why not increase the price and make a few more bucks? I guess that's supply and demand in action. At $135 though, I'm priced out of this market.

Overall, I would give this race a solid A- grade. There are a few things that could be tweaked here and there, but the Competitor group obviously knows what they are doing and they do it as best as can be expected when you're accommodating 28,000 participants. From getting to and from and in and out of the expo, to aid station and spectator support, to post-race festivities, everything went smoothly for me. If any of you ran this race I would be interested to hear about your experiences and would be willing to post them here or link to your recap on your blog or website if you'd like.

4:07:22...Details to come...

2010-06-26T22:40:00.001-07:00

Marathon #2: Seattle Rock 'n' Roll Preparations

2010-06-24T16:14:00.000-07:00

Newport seems like such a long time ago. Three weeks actually, but it seems longer. I spent a few days reflecting my first marathon and knowing I had a quick turnaround before my 2nd, I got right back to work. As I've documented in detail, I was disappointed with my pre-race taper strategy and race-day energy. Prior to Newport, my Seattle prep plan had been to replicate the final three weeks of my 21 Week Training Schedule and treat Newport as just another 20+ mile long Saturday run.

That plan got tossed out the window within 24 hours of finishing in Newport.

Instead, the last three weeks have looked something like this:

1. Lots of miles. Monday afternoon following Newport I was back on the road, beginning a week of 5, 8, 5 and 20 miles (Monday, Wednesday, Thursday and Saturday, respectively). The following week was 5, 8, 5, 16. This week I ran 12 on on Monday (7 in the morning, 5 more in the evening), 5 on Wednesday and 5 more this morning. Some may question returning to the road so soon, but trust me when I say I woke up Sunday morning after Newport feeling a little bit stiff, but by that afternoon I felt fine and on Monday morning I couldn't wait to get out the door. Zero recovery time. Credit to the fruit diet.

2. Hills. Lots of them. The biggest ones I could find in the general vicinity of my house. Every run, with the exception of Wednesday and Thursday this week have been hills. 2-6% grade, extended hills. Hills I don't like to drive up in my car. And it's been awesome. I loathe running down these same hills and avoid doing so whenever possible, but I've done some good work these last three weeks running mile after mile uphill. Here's a look at part of my long run route the last few weeks (weekday runs have also included significant portions of this route):

3. Re-evaluation of goals. I'm going to sign up with the 3:45 pace team in Seattle. I don't know how many the races I run will have pace leaders, but after feeling so inexperienced in Newport, I want to take advantage of running with someone who knows what they're doing and is running a specific pace. I know I can't let them get too far ahead of me because they are my goal; like in Mario-Kart when you can see the shadow of the best time running along your own race -- you know what you have to do.

4. Mantra of the month: I will not walk. More than anything else, this is what put me so far off of my goal in Newport. There was a moment around mile 21 when I began to walk and the lady I was running with continued on. It didn't take very long, maybe 30 seconds or so, but I remember thinking how far ahead of me she was after just a short time of walking. I will not walk. If I can't hold an 8:30 pace (3:45 finish goal), then I'll run at 9:30, or 10, or 12 if need be. But I will not walk. My Nike+ sensor isn't calibrated to walking, but I estimate I was doing so in Newport at an 18 or 19 minute pace. Time killer. I will not walk.

My family and I will leave for Seattle tomorrow where we'll ride the light rail/monorail systems, check out Pike Place Market, the Seattle Center area and then hit the race expo, including Safeco and Quest Fields, before returning to our hotel a few steps from the starting line. My wife has never been to Seattle (she's from Las Vegas) and my two young kids (almost 5 and almost 2) would ride the light rail all day if we let them, so we're treating it as a mini-vacation (all this means is that I won't cringe quite as much when spending a little bit of money to do/see a few things).

My wife will be running the half-marathon (her first) as will my dad, mom and sister. Based on the corrals we're all starting in, my goal is to beat my sister to the finish line (sorry, Courtney).

The race organizers released a course preview yesterday, which I've posted below. You can go HERE if you want to see the half-marathon course.

So that's it. I'm off to Seattle. Hopefully things will go a little better than a few weeks ago. Whatever happens, though, I will not walk.

The Taper Trap

2010-06-14T20:51:00.000-07:00

Take a look at your training program. When you look at your final two or three weeks prior to your big race, what thoughts go through your mind? If it's still months away it may seem like it will never arrive. If you're at the peak of your training it may seem like much-welcomed relief just around the corner. If you're currently in the final few weeks you're probably feeling like you've earned a reduction in miles after the months of grueling non-stop preparation. The Taper is a near-universally accepted principle and practice of marathon training. Yet, if done incorrectly, it can lead to disastrous results on race day. This is The Taper Trap.

Tapering advice is in no short supply, and for good reason. The final few weeks are important and should not be overlooked. While you may not be able to produce significant improvements in endurance and speed in the final few weeks, there is the potential to lose some of the built up strength you have worked so hard to obtain. Generally, advice on tapering falls into one of three categories:

1. What to do
2. What not to do
3. Warnings about what to expect

Warnings about how you're going to feel as you taper? Shouldn't you feel great? Have more energy? Heal from all of your pains? Get more sleep? Wouldn't this be nice. Unfortunately the list of warnings reads like the back of a bottle of prescription drugs:

"Be aware that tapering may cause the following conditions: weight gain, phantom pains, heavy legs, anxiety, depressed mood, an urge to run extra miles or to run harder, the urge to eat more than you need to and many other conditions you haven't felt during your regular training."

Assuming you've been training for months for your marathon, are these the sorts of things you want to be dealing with in the most important phase of your race preparation?

For months you will disciplined yourself. You'll stuck to your schedule. You'll listened to your body. You'll probably keep to a somewhat regular diet. You'll probably even have some aches and pains from time to time, but your body will adapt and became stronger. As your long run and weekly miles peak you'll feel great about how far you've come and where you are going.

Why would you suddenly discontinue this routine in the final few weeks of preparation?

Someone once said, "We are all creatures of habit. We can do most things without even thinking about them; our bodies take charge and do them for us." Doesn't that describe a long 20-miler to a degree? Certainly mental preparation is necessary. But what about when you "lose" a few miles here and there and your body takes over and does what you've trained it to do?

After weeks and months of adding a few miles at a time (never more than 10% per week, all the programs will make sure to tell you), why would you suddenly cut your mileage by a third or a half in one week? And then cut it by another third or half the following week. And then expect your body to be able to flip the switch the week after and run a distance it may not have ever run before. Crazy, huh? We are creatures of habit. We are what we do and we perform how we train.

Perhaps you should be "peaking" instead of tapering.

Austin-based online running coach Greg McMillan describes peaking by stating, "I never use the word 'tapering.' When people hear that word, they hear relax. To them, tapering means to reduce their training and that everything is done. The hay is in the barn. Which isn't true at all. I much prefer to have my runners peak for the marathon. I want my runners to go into race on the upswing. I want them to think, 'I'm on the rise. I'm going to run my best race.' "

Peaking should not be confused with setting new speed, distance or weekly total PRs up until the day of your race. Rather, it's keeping your body in the rhythm you have worked so hard to establish so that as McMillan says, you can feel like you're on the rise on race day instead of asking your body to do something it hasn't been doing for a few weeks.

Take another look at the final few weeks of your training program. Will you be peaking on race day? Or will you be asking your body to do something it hasn't been for a few weeks? It's not too late to reevaluate. When you're at the starting line, though, it will be.

Newport Marathon Recap

2010-06-07T17:23:00.000-07:00

There will be a time to explore the Why and How questions of my first marathon at a later date. For now, let's stick with What and When issues. I'll try to keep it interesting (personally I don't find things like "the packet pickup area was really cool" very interesting or useful). For a good description of the actual course, I recommend Jeff McKay's guest post on the Run Oregon blog. Two notes on the pictures below: they're chronological according to the recap and I am an expert at shutting my eyes at the exact moment the shudder opens. Call it a gift. Anyway, onward...

Pre-Race

I've read the experiences of many who say they struggle to get a good night sleep before a marathon. This was true for me. I wasn't overly anxious and nauseous, but I was staying less than a mile from the Pacific Ocean, so trying to make a room dark was impossible. I planned to be up around 4:30am in time for a 5:15 departure, so I was in bed, eyes closed at 8pm. 8:30 rolled around, and then 9 and then 9:30, and I still wasn't tired. Can anyone else talk themselves into falling asleep? If so, this is a skill I would like to acquire.

Waking up at 4:30am wasn't a problem, I got myself ready to go, my dad drove with me to the starting line and I used the porta potty prior to the lines forming (as I heard one guy tell his buddy later, as he was darting into some nearby bushes, "don't bother bro, that's a 20 minute line for a 15 start time"). My dad and I took a few obligatory starting line pictures and noted the significant diversity of the participants. We said hello to my parents' neighbors, who were both running, as well as a family friend, who, after running her first marathon at age 26, was now back to do it again 14 years and four kids later. For purposes later in this recap, we'll call her "Nancy." The weather was absolutely perfect after a horrendous week of storms. Upper 40's, just a slight breeze from time to time and nothing but blue sky.

Race

As stated in a previous post, one of my biggest concerns was starting too quickly. My dad waited at the start line, which also served as the 3-mile mark after running through the beach-front village shops of Newport. I came through at 26 minutes, which was just about perfect. It had been a nice easy warm-up, I was into the flow of things and I felt pretty good.

We ran under the Yaquina Bay Bridge and into the Downtown/Boardwalk area of Newport which eventually led to the finish line area. Here we encountered the first hill of the course at mile 4 1/2. I use the term "hill" loosely. Maybe a 1/4 mile. Nothing worse than the inclines I run whenever I leave my house, regardless of which direction I go. From this point on, the course was an out and back, with a turnaround at 15.3. You can take a look at the map, but there isn't a lot of access to the road we were on, so for the rest of the race spectators were minimal. There were small shuttle vans dropping off and picking up spectators at the aid stations on the out and back, but I'm not sure how successful or popular this was. A nice idea, but spectator support was pretty sparse.

At the top of the hill I found myself in a group of five other runners who were keeping a solid 8-minute pace. I lost four of them at the next aid station, but the one who remained looked like she knew what she was doing, so I kept close to her for the next few miles. At the 8-mile mark she sped up slightly, to about a 7:45 pace and though I tried, I couldn't keep up with her. This wouldn't have been such a problem if I wasn't exerting so much effort just to keep my 8-minute pace.

I knew then, at the 8-mile aid station, that something was wrong. A quick inventory of all my functioning parts revealed no injuries, pain, cramping or soreness. Something like this may have been easy to explain. Instead, it was something much more perplexing: I had no energy. My legs weren't turning over like I wanted them to. I quickly resorted to various mental strategies I had used in training runs. I focused on my breathing, my form, various internal and external associative thoughts and anything else I could think of, but not of these things seemed to be the problem. I just didn't have any energy. For the first time I can remember, I felt inexperienced. I've had bad days before but never during a race and never ever with 18 miles left to go. I knew it was going to be a struggle from then on.

I struggled to the 13.1 aid station in about 1:48. Not too terrible (8:15/mile). But I knew how hard I had had to work to get there and I knew the next 13.1 miles weren't going to get any easier. I walked through this aid station, tried to regroup and refocus and clear my mind, but by the time I got to the next aid station somewhere before the 15-mile mark, I was walking again. My body wasn't responding. I was in trouble and I knew it. The next 7 miles were a living hell.

Miles 16-22 consisted of walking a while, then shuffling to the next aid station or mile marker (whichever came first) and then walking again. I met up with two ladies who were also employing a run/walk strategy and joined them from miles 17-19 before one dropped back. The other lady and I ran together a little while longer before she continued on while I walked again. I was back by myself again.

I knew when I began to walk that there was no way I was making 3:30. The goal then became 4 hours. And when that was out of reach, 4:30. By this point in the race, all my pre-race strategies had gone out the window. . My music was more annoying than enjoyable so I jammed my headphones into my pocket. I should note that I was taking two and three cups of water at every aid station and doing a good job of getting some dates in my stomach every so often, so I never felt hungry or dehydrated the entire day, which may have been the lone bright spot to that point. Generally, though, I was disgusted with myself. My thoughts were everything except positive. And maybe worst of all, I knew my family (wife, son-age 4, daughter-age 20 months, mom, dad, sister, sister, dog) had positioned themselves at the finish line at around 10:15, hoping to see me run down the hill at around 10:30. I knew they would probably be worried about me. My wife in particular, who has had a front-row seat to all of my training, knew something must have been wrong. I learned later that when word started filtering through the finish area that an ambulance had taken someone off the course, she was so sure it was me that she frantically asked anyone official-looking the name of the person and what had happened.

Just past mile 22, during a period of walking, I glanced back and saw Nancy coming up behind me. She asked how I was and patiently listened to me gripe about it not being my day, no energy, blah, blah, blah, and then said something to the effect of, "you've done so awesome. C'mon now, let's go, we've got to finish." I was firmly in "yeah, right, you don't understand" mode, but we started to run together. She asked me all sorts of random questions, things she probably couldn't have cared less about, but kept offering encouragement as we went. She told me of her dad and how he had come back to run the final three miles with her in her first marathon, talking and encouraging her to the finish line. She continued to reiterate how awesome it was to finish a marathon and how great I had done to train and prepare myself for this.

A funny thing happened in those last four miles. I actually started to buy all of the positive stuff that Nancy was selling. I was going to finish. I was going to finish a freaking marathon. 12 months ago running even a mile was punishment. Now I was paying for the privilege run to 26.2 miles. And I was almost there. I knew Nancy wasn't going to let me stop again, and I knew she wasn't going to leave me to try to finish as fast as she may have been able to, so I really didn't have a choice: I had to keep going.

As we ran up the final hill and towards the 26-mile sign, a race official called out on his radio "we've got runners #438 (my number) and #147 coming towards you." I told him that he could tell the finish line that Nancy would be finishing before me. Nancy quickly offered her rebuttal that we would be finishing together.

As we ran down the hill, our families were waiting for us at the front of the finishing chute, cameras clicking. I'm not sure which family was more surprised that we were finishing together. As we ran the final few steps I tried to let up so that Nancy would finish first. After all she had done for me getting me through the final four miles, I wanted her to finish first. But she wouldn't have any of it. She stopped also, and made us cross the finish line together (though when they went to rip the tags off of our bibs, I made sure mine was taken second).

I had completed my first marathon. Not exactly how I had planned, but I finished. And after the 35 minute pep-talk from Nancy, I was alright with it. I did it. Officially in 4:34:23.

I think my wife was more upset about how I finished than I was. She was also still emotional from not knowing what had happened to me and if I was alright, but I tried to reassure her that everything was good, I wasn't injured and that the finish time didn't matter. Knowing how competitive I am, she must have thought I was nuts and I don't think she understood what I was saying at the moment, but after relaying to her my experience I think she got it.

Post-Race

The finisher's recovery area was nice and open and allowed runners to move freely without feeling like sardines. The medals were unique, made of glass by a local business. I also appreciated having to pick up my finisher's shirt after first securing the medal. I felt like I had earned it.

After taking some pictures and inhaling a fruit smoothie, multiple oranges, a few bananas and a handful of watermelon slices (the volunteer at the fruit table gave me an awkward look when I kept asking for more instead of going to the clam chowder, super-carb recovery drink, chips and salsa or beer and soda tables), I took my son to the beach for a little while and then we headed home. I was sore the rest of the day and Sunday morning, but nothing too bad.

I've thought about the race a lot since I crossed the finish line and as I said earlier, there will be a time to examine the Why and How questions. More than anything though, I'm grateful I finished.

I appreciate the support that I have received from everyone. First and foremost to my wife, who has put up with all of this and has sacrificed much by way of my taking time away from home while out training. She has never wavered in her support of my goals and seeing the way she reacted to how I finished, she may have wanted me to run well more than I wanted me to run well. A big thank you to her. She is currently training for her first half-marathon on June 26th at the Seattle Rock 'n' Roll event and is awesome just for attempting this.

My other family members have been just as supportive. I don't know how we ever became a running family, but in the last year my dad has run a few half-marathons, and my mom and multiple siblings have run various 5k, 10k and 15k races. Maybe we're just too competitive for our own good (I see your 5k and raise you a 10k), but we'll have a total of five entrants in Seattle in three weeks.

A special thank you goes to Nancy. At mile 22 she could have offered encouragement, ran with me a little ways, and then continued on. This was her race that she had trained for also. I wouldn't have had any negative feelings towards her if this is what she had done. Helping me get though those last four miles, though, is something I won't ever forget. I work closely with her husband in my church responsibilities and I let him know yesterday morning how much respect I had for her and what she had done for me.

Finally, a thank you to all of you who continue to read and occasionally comment, either directly on this blog or via email, Facebook or in person. I do appreciate it. Though I have now completed my goal of running a marathon, I plan to continue to use this space to talk about training and race strategies that hopefully will be of value to you. Up first will be a discussion of whether tapering is always necessary. Quickly, go try to find information suggesting that tapering is not necessary and possibly even detrimental to marathon preparation. Excluding online forums and message boards, I've found only one source so far. Fortunately, it's a good source, but it's the only one I've found. I'll share it with you soon.

19 days until Seattle. Time to regroup and refocus. Time to tinker with some changes and maybe readjust my race strategy. Definitely not the time to rest though. I'm anxious to get back on the road this afternoon.

Newport Marathon Pre-recap

2010-06-05T15:54:00.000-07:00

I'm headed to my bed to take a nap. Except for the perfect weather, everything that could have wrong did go wrong. I knew it just wasn't my day by the time I got to mile 8. But I finished, and I guess ultimately that was the goal. 4:34 unofficially (in "politican-speak," I "misspoke" when I said my goal was 3:30--really -- wink, wink). Race recap coming whenever I wake up and get around to it.

Marathon #1: Final Thoughts

2010-06-04T07:38:00.000-07:00

"I don't believe in fear. I believe in putting in the work" ~Deena Kastor

51 weeks ago I started on this journey but I wasn't sure where I was headed at first. In the short-term, I was determined to run a 2.6 mile 4th of July fun run without embarrassing myself. Soon thereafter, much bigger goals began to form. Tomorrow I will run my first marathon and my goal is to finish in less than 3 ½ hours.

My training has been in two stages. Until December I would run when I felt like it (a lot) and as much as I felt like (also a lot, given I had no base). I was sloppy, unfocused and undisciplined in my training. I was rewarded with knee pain that kept me off the road for most of the month.

As the New Year began, I knew if I was going to run the Newport Marathon I was going to need to change everything. I would have to be more disciplined in my physical training. I would need to be more conscious of my diet. And I would have to be stronger mentally, not just to make it 26 miles, but to make it through the cold, rainy, windy months of winter. To this end, I developed my own 3-point approach that I trusted would carry me through the finish line and beyond.

First, I built myself a 21 week training schedule. Nothing fancy. Run on Monday, Wednesday, Thursday and Saturday and rest on Tuesday, Friday and Sunday. Increase the mileage slowly, no matter how well I felt. I didn't need to be able to run 20 miles in February. Or March. Given the constraints on my time, I wasn't concerned with cross-training, fartleks, interval training or weigh-lifting. Just get the miles in, stick to the program, get proper amounts of regular rest and train and push my body in such a way that it would become accustomed to what I was asking it to do and then let my competitiveness take care of the rest.

Second, I had to change my diet. I've written extensively about my fruit intake, but changing my diet was a necessity. I started eating 10 servings of fruit each morning. Today, I eat only fruit during the day until dinner, which consists of pasta, taco salad, millet, or some other low-fat meal. I cut out dairy, meats, refined sugars, processed foods, and in the last couple of weeks, oils and fats (in the form of various kinds of nuts). Occasionally I will enjoy something outside of this (I’m still a sucker for pizza), but only when I have an additional rest day before my next run (Saturday afternoon/evening, Monday night). Some may disagree with this approach. Fine. Let them do what works for them. This has made a huge difference for me. (You can see my wife’s website for more information – www.fruitpredominantdiet.com)

Finally, I knew I had to strengthen myself mentally. Five months ago my thoughts were negative and self-defeating. Some were more passive than others, but they were all sending the same message: "You can't do this. It's too hard." This is no longer the case. I've learned to focus my thoughts only on things that will help me. And when my body starts to hurt and tell my mind that it's had enough, my mind is now the one in charge. Visualization exercises have also become a staple of my training. Like visualizing shooting a free throw, the mind doesn’t know if the body is following along in the activity or not and frankly, the mind doesn’t care; it’s going through the same processes regardless.

"Now if you are going to win any battle you have to do one thing. You have to make the mind run the body. Never let the body tell the mind what to do. The body will always give up. It is always tired in the morning, noon, and night. But the body is never tired if the mind is not tired.” This quote from George S. Patton has been a constant at the top of this blog for a reason. By strengthening myself mentally, my mind is no longer tired. It tells my body what to do.

21 weeks of this program and I haven’t strayed from it one day. I've run through rain, snow, ice, wind, hail, thunder and lightning, and occasional sunshine. I’ve pushed through shin splints, muscle cramps and bloody toes. I’ve gone up hills, through neighborhoods, along highways and through the countryside. I've run at 5am on Saturday morning, and late in the evening after a long day at work and home. I took days off when my program said so. No other time. I didn’t shortchange my miles ever. I ran what my program said to run and then some, just for good measure. And I've done all of these runs by myself. No running groups, running buddies, or dogs (just the ones coming after me).

21 weeks ago I began a 3-point plan that I believed would help me achieve my goal of running a marathon. I put my trust in this plan and haven't deviated from it since.

"I don't believe in fear. I believe in putting in the work," Denna Kastor said.

The Newport Marathon begins in a few hours and I will be at the starting line.

The work is done. The time for fear, anxiety, second-guessing and even preparation is past.

The time to run is now.

Marathon #1: Race Day Strategery

2010-06-03T18:48:00.000-07:00

40 hours and counting. Time to start gathering my gear together and preparing to head to Newport.

The weather is shaping up nicely for Saturday morning. Multiple storms came through this week, dumping multiple inches of rain and 20-30mph winds. The systems should move through by tomorrow morning and give way to partly sunny skies and temperatures around 50 degrees on Saturday morning with winds out of the south at 5mph. You can’t ask for anything more than that on the Oregon Coast. At any time of year.

My finish time goal is 3:30. I would also accept something in the 3:30-3:40 range, but I’m really focused on staying under 8 minutes/mile. There’s no reason I shouldn’t be able to do this, but as I have read the experiences of many veteran marathoners, there is always a question as to how the body (and mind) will respond on race day.

I’ve continued to do some basic visualization exercises, though not as many as I should have. I’ve been visualizing various points in the race and seeing myself running in good form, breathing easy and moving efficiently. I’ve seen the long lonely highway that is miles 6-24, the hill at mile 25 and the run down the hill and the left turn into the finish line.

I’ve decided to go with music for this race. This will serve at least two purposes. First, for weeks I’ve been reminding myself not to go out too fast. Dozens of times each day I tell myself this. I can’t let myself get caught up in the excitement of the race or the flow of the other runners around me. The solution? Start with 30 minutes of boring slow piano music. I’ve been doing this on my Saturday long runs and it’s been effective.

Second, if I start to really struggle or when I’m at the bottom of the hill at mile 25 (whichever comes first), I’ve added a new song to my playlist to turn to. It’s one I mentioned in my Dude Room introduction a few weeks ago. It’s one I’ve been saving for many months in order to maximize its effect when it starts blasting through my Yurbuds. For your listening (and viewing) pleasure, I give you, “You’re The Best” from The Karate Kid soundtrack:

Lyrics | Joe Esposito - You’re the Best lyrics

Lastly, I found an essay a few months ago that I wish I had the ability to write. I don’t, but Mr. Malcolm Gibson does. Into The Fire: Reflections On First Time Marathoners is an excellent read, despite my serious reservations about comparing anything recreational to military units going into combat.

A few final thoughts tomorrow morning and then I’m headed to the race (you can also read that as no Internet access until I return home).

Tapered Thoughts

2010-06-02T19:17:00.000-07:00

Tapering sucks. I feel like it's making me weak. Was three weeks of tapering too long? Why am I sore in new places? A goal of 3:30, really? Should my longest run have been longer than 21 miles? Shouldn't a 3-mile run be a breeze? Why do my legs feel heavy. And why do I have a stomach cramp after a mile? Food -- ehh. What the heck is wrong with me?!?!?!

That's the last two and a half weeks in a nutshell. Maybe not quite that dramatic. But all of those thoughts have crossed my mind at one time or another.

If you're looking for tapering suggestions, just google any combination of the words "marathon," "taper," "tips" and "traps" and you'll find all that you're looking for. I won't rehash them all here. Instead, here are a few tapering experiences of the last few weeks:

1. Weight Gain. Not a huge deal, but I've added a little bit. Two or three pounds. Not a lot, I know, but for someone who could barter for measures of flour or sugar based on my normal weight, any fluctuation catches my attention. I'm not concerned about this though. We know that high-carb foods (bananas, pasta) stock and restock our glycogen stores. Water is stored with glycogen. Less running = less glycogen being used = less water being lost. Pretty simple idea. No worries about it come race day.

2. Goal Time. An 8 minute pace puts me at the finish line in 3 1/2 hours or less. That's my goal. Two things have caused some anxiety in regards to this goal this week. First, it's been almost three weeks since my last long run (21 miles). I felt great that day. But it's been a long time since then. A long time to forget how awesome I felt. Second, I recalibrated my Nike+ sensor at the high school track the other day. Every mile was off by 5% (1 "true" mile (4 laps) registered as 1.05 miles). So...... have my training runs all been off by 5%? Maybe. Maybe not. The Nike+ sensor isn't perfect (nor is their site). But it was enough to cause some generate some doubt for a day or two.

3. "Phantom" Pains. Dumb things. My toe hurt one day. My right knee hurt another day. A shin splint last week. Nothing too serious, but enough to make me plead with my body not to break down now. I realize that this a combination of my body repairing itself after 18 increasingly intense weeks in a row and me having too much time to think about running (and less time spent actually doing it).

I take comfort in the fact that all of these things are mental, and not physical. Physically, I'm ready to go. Mentally, I'm getting there. I don't want to get into race mode too early, as this will cause my mind to be tired by the time the gun goes off, but by Friday afternoon I'll be locked in and ready to go.

I'll have a post up tomorrow afternoon about my goals, race strategy and other preparations and then a final post Friday morning with some final thoughts, and then I'm off to Newport with my family.

It's almost here. I'll be ready.

National Running Day

2010-06-02T00:01:00.000-07:00

Happy National Running Day. You didn't know it was today? No problem. It's not too late to join the fun. Just go for a run today and you will have participated.

Happy running.

100 Hours And Counting...

2010-06-01T03:00:00.000-07:00

The 100 hour countdown to the Newport Marathon is on. Weather is looking like 45 degrees with a good chance of rain. So...pretty much what I've been running in the majority of the last few months. Tapering is boring. I post what I've been up to in the next day or so. For now though, I'm just trying to keep busy, pass the time, get some rest, pay extra special attention to my food and fluid intake and tell myself over and over again, "It's a marathon, not a sprint. Don't go out too fast."

Back To Yurtopia

2010-05-30T19:17:00.000-07:00

The new and improved Yurbuds site is back up and running. I bought and reviewed my own pair a month or so ago, continue to love them and would recommend them to everyone.

My affiliate code is now working again also. Use it to get your Yurbuds shipped to you for free!

Just enter Coupon Code WJPX5 in your shopping cart!

You can also connect with Yurbuds on Facebook in order to receive information about various race expos and other events they are taking part in.

For a limited time you can get a bright pink pair of Yurbuds. For each of these purchased Yurbuds will donate $10 to the Susan G Komen for the Cure Foundation.

Back On My Feet Update

2010-05-25T14:36:00.000-07:00

I wrote about the Back On My Feet organization a few months ago. Great organization. They've expanded to five chapters in the East now and are looking to add five more chapters in 2011.

I just received the following from Sandi Maro, Vice President, Growth and Expansion, Back On my Feet:

Tomorrow (Wednesday, 5/26) morning during the 9 a.m. hour on the NBC Today show, a segment on our organization, which was shot 5/21 at a Baltimore MCVET team run, will air. On Friday, as a follow up, Anne will be on Today LIVE, with a small group of other nonprofit leaders, in the 8 a.m. hour. As is always the case with media, times may change, but look for Back on My Feet and Anne then! Please share this exciting news with friends and colleagues who you think would enjoy learning more about Back on My Feet.

If you'd like more information regarding Anne or BOMF, please take a look at their website. If you'd like to contribute to their existing chapters or to their expansion efforts, I've set up a Mind Over Body Marathon fundraising page where you may do so. I am compensated in no way by BOMF, I just think their message, purpose and approach are outstanding. Take a few minutes to check them out.

Treasures In The Amazon

2010-05-25T13:38:00.000-07:00

Back in March when I purchased a pair of Adidas Supernova Glide 2 shoes from Road Runner Sports I was a little nervous about what to do when they were worn out. To that point, all of my shoes came from the Adidas Outlet store for $40 or less. My wife and I live on a budget and the thought of having the conversation every few months about needing another $100 pair of shoes wasn't something I looked forward to.

I started looking around on Ebay and found some savings here and there. After shipping though, the final price got to be up around $75 anyway. For a little more I can go buy them in the store and have the 60-day return policy.

Then I searched on Amazon.com. I don't know how things are priced on Amazon, but the same Supernova Glide 2 shoe I've been wearing, in the same color and the same size was listed at $27.99 this morning (other colors and sizes are varying prices -- I don't know why). With free shipping. From Road Runner Sports (60-day return policy still in effect).

So I bought 3 pairs. My wife's response? "Good find."

Indeed.

(p.s. I just checked Amazon again a few minutes ago, just three hours after my purchase -- back to $70/pair. Good find, indeed.)

Born To Run 15k Recap

2010-05-22T17:13:00.000-07:00

Just two weeks to go now. As part of my final preparations I decided to run the Born To Run 15k in Eugene this morning. The distance was what I needed for my Saturday run this week and I wanted to do sort of a final walk-through of all my pre-race and race strategies I've been experiment and training with.

Pre-Race

The weather was threatening. The hour leading up to race time varied between drizzle and downpour. And it was cold. I debated whether to wear a short sleeve or no sleeve shirt, jacket or no jacket, gloves or not? How about my head scarf? So many last minute decisions. I finally decided I would go without sleeves, jacket or gloves. Headscarf, yes. Fortunately, the rain tapered off as the race begun, and except for two cold hands for the first few minutes, I made the correct choices (the headscarf came off around mile 4).

I actually warmed up for the first time also. I've been struggling lately with my first mile of any run. Just sore and uncomfortable, but then it all goes away and I felt great. I took a light half mile jog a few minutes before the start and I'm glad I did. Once the cowbell was sounded (and is some cowbell is good, MORE cowbell is better), I was ready to go right from the start.

Race

I went out too fast. And I knew it. But darn it, I felt good. I managed to keep the pace for the first mile and then slowed slightly into a good pace (7:30-7:40) for the next two or three miles. As with most of the races I run, I somehow found myself all alone for the bulk of the miles. The last person to pass me did so in mile 3 and I didn't see another person until about mile 6. But it wasn't someone coming up on me -- I was coming up on them.

The guy I could see a half mile or so up the path had passed me in the second mile. He seemed pretty far out, but with 3 miles still to go I picked up my pace slightly and kept an eye on him. For the next two miles I made up a little bit of ground, but he was still probably a quarter mile in front of me. I was still feeling great though, and made the decision at 7.5 miles that I was really going to push myself the rest of the way.

Side Note: I fully intended to run the entire race at the pace I hope to run in two weeks. (7:45-7:55). After feeling so good the first 6 or 7 miles though, and knowing that I had a seemingly full tank of fuel left, and seeing this guy in front of me, my competitiveness overrided all other systems and said run this guy down.

And so I did.

I caught up to him around the 8.25 mile mark and just to make sure he knew I wasn't slowing down once I did, I zoomed by him and kept on going. He wasn't going to pass me again.

I came to a pond and had about 0.6 miles to go. This distance is significant to me. I'll talk about about "Finishing Fuel" in the next few days, but every training run I do that ends at my house has a final stretch of 0.6 miles that I push myself as hard as I can. I've run this distance dozens of times over the last 19 weeks and I visualized the last portion of the race as nothing more than running home.

I finished strong and crossed the finish line a 1:11:48, good enough for 19th overall.

Post-Race

Only running 9 miles today feels weird. After so many Saturday runs of twice that (or more), I feel like I haven't done anything today. I guess that's the taper though. And I trust my body will thank me for it, come June 5th.

I'm glad I got one more race in though. It gave me a chance to focus on my thoughts, running tangents (something nearly impossible to do on my regular routes), negotiate aid stations, when to eat something during the race and a few other things I've been thinking about.

All systems are go for Newport in two weeks. I need to keep myself busy this week though, as I'll only be running 3, 5 and 3 miles on Monday, Wednesday and Thursday, respectively. My goal this week is to just not hurt myself.

Mentally Managing Pain And Fatigue

2010-05-20T10:44:00.000-07:00

I've tried to be more conscious about what I'm focusing on since my tough 21-miler a few weeks ago when I slammed into the wall around mile 18. I again went back to the study of 1996 London Marathon runners and the conclusions the authors came to regarding mental race strategies. This time I was struck with their observation that elite runners tend to spend a great deal more time focusing on how they feel (internal disassociation) than non-elite runners. Basically they focus more on what they're doing and less on distracting themselves.

As my Saturday runs became longer I tried to pass the time by distracting myself. It wasn't that I was particularly bored, I just didn't know how or what to think 2 1/2 hours. I could cheat and get by on my shorter weekday runs because I knew I wasn't in any danger of crashing, so I found myself struggling once I was out on the road for longer periods of time.

For the last few weeks I've made a conscious effort to make my shorter runs more effective. Consequently, my longer runs have benefited accordingly. Running Within contains a couple of excellent chapters on mentally overcoming fatigue. Briefly, here are my interpretations of six mental strategies the authors discuss regarding the management of pain and fatigue:

1. Focus on small, manageable goals. One mile at a time, running to the next light post, one more lap, whatever it may be. It will take mental training to be able to truly focus on running one mile, and then doing 10, 15, 20, 26 times, or whatever your distance is, but if you can break your run into small segments and focus on achieving these small goals, the larger goal won't seem as daunting.

2. Focus on your form, pace and breathing (my addition). This is 100% internal association and it's what I've been focusing on the most over the past few weeks. Whenever I catch my thoughts wandering, whenever I start up a hill or whenever I start to feel a little fatigued, even on a short Monday afternoon run, I block everything out and think of three things. First, is my form efficient? This most often involves me dropping my hands, which creep higher and higher as I get tired (making for tense shoulder muscles, which wastes energy). Second, is my leg turnover smooth and light. If my heels are scraping the ground, I need to pick them up and run light. Third, is my breathing in sync with my body movement. Breathe in on the left foot. Breathe out on the left foot. It's a rhythm I've been in since day one last summer. It's natural now, but when I get tired, I almost always find that my breathing is not in sync with my leg turnover. Arms, legs, breathing. Let your body run like a well-tuned, efficient machine. Not a clunker.

3. Visualization. Call this internal disassociation if you'd like. Our bodies respond physiologically to images. Visualize yourself finishing your race or approaching your family and friends along the course. Visualize your muscles relaxing. Put yourself back in an exciting or happy moment. Some of these images will produce a smile, some may produce a tear, some may give you goosebumps. By learning to focus on these images, you will be prepared to do so when fatigue sets in and you need a bit of physiological stimulation to reset your body and mind,

4. Change your beliefs regarding pain and fatigue. Do you view these feelings as feelings of failure? Or do you view them as an opportunity to experience a breakthrough in your personal level of achievement? You're only feeling pain and fatigue because you have pushed yourself closer to your perceived limit of ability. How great will it be to push through these feelings and come out on the other side, now with limitless possibilities as to your potential? Shift your mindset from the negative to the positive and all of the sudden pain and fatigue are no longer enemies, but friends. Friends running with you on your way to achieving your goals.

5. You're not alone. Particularly in a race, look around. Chances are you're not the only one feeling these things. But you will be one of the few who knows how to handle them -- and that will set you apart. Take confidence in this.

6. External disassociation. Certainly there is a time and place for it. Sing a song, create a rhyme, hi-five the aide station volunteers, tell your life story to the runner next to you (only with their approval of course). For some runners, this is what gets them over, through or around the wall.

I encourage you to find what works best for you. It's going to be different for everyone, but hopefully I've given you some options to work from.

Welcome To The Dude Room

2010-05-17T20:28:00.000-07:00

The hard work is done. And what a way to finish it. Saturday's 21-miler was far and away my best run in my short 10-month running career. I effortlessly breezed through the first 14 miles, ran past my house to get another bottle of water and finished the last 7 miles strong, completing the run at a 7:53 pace. There's been days when I've though to myself, "I could have done it today. I could have run 26.2 miles." Saturday was one of them. Great feeling and big confidence boost as I move into my tapering period these final three weeks before Newport on June 5th.

Credit to a couple of things:

First, after dealing with stomach cramps during my long runs just about every week (nothing too bad, more annoying than anything -- but I was always afraid they may get worse), my pre-run Saturday breakfast this week consisted of the following: 8 ounces of water. That's it. My weekly diet was the same as it always is, and I didn't sleep any more than normal (actually a little less than normal for a Friday night). Maybe I'm crazy (don't you have to be at least a little crazy to find running 3 hours at 6am on a Saturday enjoyable?). And I can't explain it, though I'm looking into it. What I do know, is that I've never felt better during a long run.

Second, The Dude Room. It's long overdue that the Dude Room be introduced (stay with me here -- I promise there will be a running-related point made).

In the fall of 2003, there were six of us that returned to college after having recently completed serving two-year missions for our church at various locations around the world. Five of us had lived in the dorms together as college freshmen prior to those two years, so we all should have known what we were getting ourselves into. We welcomed ourselves to the crummy, run-down, overpriced (did I mention hideous?) Park Place Apartments (they've since been remodeled I'm told) and immediately went to work carving out a niche as the (we thought) coolest, most likable group of 21-year old bachelors in the greater-Provo area.

There isn't time or space to recount all of the Dude Room successes or triumphs, but there are a few worth noting (there will be a point, I promise):

1. Sticking it to the ~~man~~ landlord. After the mess of a completed construction project sat outside our door for many, many weeks and after repeated requests for it to be cleaned up (try woo-ing a member of the opposite sex when your front door is surrounded by construction trash AND other tenants trash that they decided not to throw in the dumpster), the landlord notified us of an upcoming apartment cleaning check (with fees assessed for uncleanliness). We eventually did clean our apartment, but the landlord couldn't have known it. The morning of the check, as we all left to go to our classes, we hauled all of the trash up to our doorway, making our apartment completely inaccessible. We also left a note that in no uncertain terms said that we would clean up our mess, when they cleaned up theirs. The mess was gone the next day. And we never had a clean check. Point, Dudes.

2. BYU-hosted talent show. Brown paper bags in place of identities. Minimal coverage. Epic.

3. The Dude Room "Boy Band" Christmas card and photo shoot. Yes, we spent an hour on campus doing this and yes we printed dozens of these (as a joke....or maybe not...). Also epic.

4. Rich's Magnum P.I. 'stache grown for Halloween.

5. Impromptu middle-of-the-night concerts. Some nights Greg would break out his best Jack Johnson impression. Other times T-Weed would join him on the guitar and whoever was in the room would break into a Good Charlotte song. On a really good night, the guitars would remain stabled and "You're the Best" from the Karate kid soundtrack would have everyone yelling and jumping around (doors and windows open for all to enjoy).

We didn't do too badly at Park Place. In the year spent there, four of us met, dated and became engaged to our future spouses (three of whom also resided at Park Place, which consisted of just four men's and six women's apartments -- a pretty impressive success rate I think. The fourth's future spouse lived just up the block).

Now, six years later, our neighbors at Park Place (as well as our landlord and residents of the neighboring apartments) would probably fall out of their chairs if they knew the original Dude Room now consisted of MBA graduates, aspiring dentists, Ph.D. candidates, Teach for America alumni, financial advisors, triathletes, fathers, homeowners and generally upstanding citizens (and marathon runners).

The point of this is that when the run started to get difficult around mile 17 my Ipod conveniently dropped Good Charlotte's Motivation Proclamation, a true Dude Room classic. Not only was I reinvigorated, but I found myself running down memory lane, where I hung around for a few miles. I found myself thinking of the good times had by a bunch of dudes looking for a little fun. And about some tough times as well. And about how awesome it was and is to associated with such quality dudes, despite being spread all over the country and unable to get together very often.

When I next looked down at my Nike+ sportband, I was pushing myself up a steep hill, approaching the 20 mile mark. Whatever fatigue I had started to feel three miles earlier was gone.

I've heard people speak of "losing miles." I wasn't sure what that meant until Saturday. Internal disassociation. At the right time and in the appropriate manner, it can be very effective.

The hard part of my training is now complete. It's three weeks to race day. In terms of my training, I've reached the top of the baddest hill around and only a downhill run to the finish line lies ahead. It was important for me to have a good run last Saturday, my third 20-miler of my training. And like times before, it was the Dudes who were there to pick me up, brush me off, back me up and push me along when things got difficult.

Greg, Rich, Carter, Trevor and Matt -- You're quality Dudes.