WE WON!!! 1st Place in the Ultra Division!
Showing posts with label race. Show all posts
Showing posts with label race. Show all posts
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Testing, testing, one, two, R2C14!
It has been a year since I broke into the World of distance relay running, something which I have become rather enamored with ever since that first experience. What race could have possibly stolen the pitter-patter of my loping heart … The River to the Sea. Oh yes, that’s right folks my relay virginity, as disgusting as it may sound, was claimed by “The Dirty”, a.k.a. New Jersey. It is an insanely sick concept, a 7-person (there will be no sexist crap here) team running from Milford, New Jersey, on the East bank of the Delaware River 92 miles across the state till they hit the Atlantic in Manasquan. Sounds fun, right? Toxic waste, unidentifiable odoriferous emanations, the outstanding housewives, the Sopranos, and the goddam Jets! Regardless of the innumerable shortcomings of the so-called Garden State, this race is a lot of fun.
Last year I was invited to run this race by one of my former Race With Purpose coaches, Dave Darcy, and happily accepted not knowing what the hell I was getting myself into. At that point I was only maybe a month into running outside again coming off of injury. I spent most of the winter lifting weights, doing the elliptical, getting on the stationary bike and eating, the combination of which had added a number of pounds to my upper body. These were all pounds that made this race particularly difficult, but it was good. I needed to get out on the road more and really test my foot and fitness and this seemed like a great way.
Our team, Fast Forward, was a nice mix of guys from 30-65 (Irving, John, Miles, Dave, Kiet, Al and myself) … ya, that’s right, we’re not ageists either! Just so I don’t regurgitate two races at once, here is the long and short of it. We came in 4th overall and won the Men’s Open division. It was fantastic and I was told, not asked, but told that I had to do it the next year to defend our crown.
Just for the pun of it, Fast Forward to 2009 and time to defend our title! For those who know me, I am NOT morning person, regardless of the SOP of the road-racing World, and the R2C, like Jersey, sucks because I had to get up at the unholy and painful hour of 3:30 am. It was so freaking early that when I got down to my rendez-vous point to catch my ride at Canal and Broadway people were just stumbling out of the bars and clubs in the area! Last year I saw a nice brawl on the corner, but no such luck this time around.
It took us a while to get out to the start and the ground fog heading through some of the farms on the back roads out there was pretty impressive. I mean you couldn’t see anything it was so thick. When we reached the start it was just as quaint as the previous year and Irving, the captain and organizer of our team, was just as edgy as I remembered from last year. He has this way of eyeballing everyone, sizing up the competition as we prep our support vehicles and double check our supplies, which is very amusing and yet very unsettling. There were 120 Teams and we were listed as #4.
Just as in the previous year, I was once more being forced into doing leg 4 and 13, which are two of the longer and more difficult legs. The most difficult ones were reserved for the fastest and most fit, which were Kiet and myself. I may have whined and complained a bit for fun, but I really didn’t mind as my mindset going in was to go out and really test my legs and fitness, something that I have not done in some time. These two legs were just what the doctor ordered, hilly, hot and unrelenting … delicious!
Our Team started out at 7:10 am, a full 35-minutes later than last year, but we started out quite well and we quickly gained a lot of grain on the Teams already out on the course. Now my first leg, leg 4, is called “The Beast” (be sure to turn on the elevation chart) and it is for good reason. Within the first half-mile or so you just start to climb and then continue to do so for what appears to be FOREVER, but what I have recently mapped out to be approximately 3.5 miles (I also appear to have misplaced a turn that has the missing half mile). What makes “The Beast” even more difficult is how little shade there is and you’re left out there gassed by the course then slapped in the face by the heat; a nice test of ones character and metal. I LOVE IT! I ended up doing the 8.7-mile leg in 53:46 (6:11/mile pace), which shocked me as I did the math. I had issues breathing along the climb and was fighting the whole time, never finding my rhythm. When I finally hit the decline portion of the course my breathing balanced out, the battery acid in my legs subsided and rhythm was restored and I really started to push it out. I ended up passing 7 Teams on my way through leaving only 4 ahead of us.
Just to bring things into focus with this particular relay, all of the starts are staggered in the hopes that the majority of the Teams will be finishing around the same time … everyone jockeying for position into the final leg. It is an amazing idea, one that rarely yields the desired result, but somehow this small race manages to create that great competitive drama annually, so my hats off to them!
My second leg, leg 13, is the “Do or Die” leg, pretty flat, really fast and the one that can make or break your day. I love how I always seem to get these. At this point we already knew that victory was not going to be possible. We had been caught by Bucknell’s cross country team, who were running low to mid-5s, as well as a few others and the last leg is only 3-miles, but is run by 66-year-old Al … not exactly our fastest, but certainly our most impressive! Love Al, quality human being and a damn fine runner.
Heading into this 8-mile leg I just wanted to go out there and keep us from dropping any more places. I didn’t realize how hard I ran “The Beast” till I started this one out. It took a while just to shake the acid out and feel ok. The first few miles were horrible and completely unpleasant and I really just felt like slowing down and stopping. We weren’t going to win or even repeat as Men’s Open champions, but then it happened … there was someone to pass in front of me, a good ways off but still in eye-shot. My teammates kept telling me, “He’s 50-seconds ahead of you, you got him!” “He’s 30-seconds out, keep it up.” “The gap is only 10-seconds, you’re right on top of him!” This went on for 6-miles and then the course takes the runners onto a trail for the last two.
The trail section is a straight shot with tree branches draped over the top of the path on both sides creating a tunneling effect and as you looked down the path you could see almost all of your competition. Legs on fire, lungs ready to quit, stomach ready to puke and all I could think was, “Just keep turning them over! You walk now and this will all be for nothing and it will be an awfully long walk!” My mind really focused on that idea, my breathing adjusted to a really fast rhythm, but one that I could bear, and my legs just kept churning it out. I ended up passing three teams in that last two miles and for the first time doing the R2C I was passed … he was maybe 20 years old, maybe weighed 130 lbs, and maybe had had his testicles drop already … and I was ok with that. Final time for the 8-mile leg was 49:50 (6:16/mile pace).
Al did an amazing job on the final 3-miles tearing off solid 8s and we ended up finishing 7th. I love the end of this race because you finish on the sand of the beach at sunset and they feed you, which needed to happen! As for the test, I have to admit that I was really happy with the results, because I really didn’t think that I had that sustained pace in me, but the human body never ceases to amaze. Now we’ll just have to wait and see what this old group of guys can do next year!
Last year I was invited to run this race by one of my former Race With Purpose coaches, Dave Darcy, and happily accepted not knowing what the hell I was getting myself into. At that point I was only maybe a month into running outside again coming off of injury. I spent most of the winter lifting weights, doing the elliptical, getting on the stationary bike and eating, the combination of which had added a number of pounds to my upper body. These were all pounds that made this race particularly difficult, but it was good. I needed to get out on the road more and really test my foot and fitness and this seemed like a great way.
Our team, Fast Forward, was a nice mix of guys from 30-65 (Irving, John, Miles, Dave, Kiet, Al and myself) … ya, that’s right, we’re not ageists either! Just so I don’t regurgitate two races at once, here is the long and short of it. We came in 4th overall and won the Men’s Open division. It was fantastic and I was told, not asked, but told that I had to do it the next year to defend our crown.
Just for the pun of it, Fast Forward to 2009 and time to defend our title! For those who know me, I am NOT morning person, regardless of the SOP of the road-racing World, and the R2C, like Jersey, sucks because I had to get up at the unholy and painful hour of 3:30 am. It was so freaking early that when I got down to my rendez-vous point to catch my ride at Canal and Broadway people were just stumbling out of the bars and clubs in the area! Last year I saw a nice brawl on the corner, but no such luck this time around.
It took us a while to get out to the start and the ground fog heading through some of the farms on the back roads out there was pretty impressive. I mean you couldn’t see anything it was so thick. When we reached the start it was just as quaint as the previous year and Irving, the captain and organizer of our team, was just as edgy as I remembered from last year. He has this way of eyeballing everyone, sizing up the competition as we prep our support vehicles and double check our supplies, which is very amusing and yet very unsettling. There were 120 Teams and we were listed as #4.
Just as in the previous year, I was once more being forced into doing leg 4 and 13, which are two of the longer and more difficult legs. The most difficult ones were reserved for the fastest and most fit, which were Kiet and myself. I may have whined and complained a bit for fun, but I really didn’t mind as my mindset going in was to go out and really test my legs and fitness, something that I have not done in some time. These two legs were just what the doctor ordered, hilly, hot and unrelenting … delicious!
Our Team started out at 7:10 am, a full 35-minutes later than last year, but we started out quite well and we quickly gained a lot of grain on the Teams already out on the course. Now my first leg, leg 4, is called “The Beast” (be sure to turn on the elevation chart) and it is for good reason. Within the first half-mile or so you just start to climb and then continue to do so for what appears to be FOREVER, but what I have recently mapped out to be approximately 3.5 miles (I also appear to have misplaced a turn that has the missing half mile). What makes “The Beast” even more difficult is how little shade there is and you’re left out there gassed by the course then slapped in the face by the heat; a nice test of ones character and metal. I LOVE IT! I ended up doing the 8.7-mile leg in 53:46 (6:11/mile pace), which shocked me as I did the math. I had issues breathing along the climb and was fighting the whole time, never finding my rhythm. When I finally hit the decline portion of the course my breathing balanced out, the battery acid in my legs subsided and rhythm was restored and I really started to push it out. I ended up passing 7 Teams on my way through leaving only 4 ahead of us.
Just to bring things into focus with this particular relay, all of the starts are staggered in the hopes that the majority of the Teams will be finishing around the same time … everyone jockeying for position into the final leg. It is an amazing idea, one that rarely yields the desired result, but somehow this small race manages to create that great competitive drama annually, so my hats off to them!
My second leg, leg 13, is the “Do or Die” leg, pretty flat, really fast and the one that can make or break your day. I love how I always seem to get these. At this point we already knew that victory was not going to be possible. We had been caught by Bucknell’s cross country team, who were running low to mid-5s, as well as a few others and the last leg is only 3-miles, but is run by 66-year-old Al … not exactly our fastest, but certainly our most impressive! Love Al, quality human being and a damn fine runner.
Heading into this 8-mile leg I just wanted to go out there and keep us from dropping any more places. I didn’t realize how hard I ran “The Beast” till I started this one out. It took a while just to shake the acid out and feel ok. The first few miles were horrible and completely unpleasant and I really just felt like slowing down and stopping. We weren’t going to win or even repeat as Men’s Open champions, but then it happened … there was someone to pass in front of me, a good ways off but still in eye-shot. My teammates kept telling me, “He’s 50-seconds ahead of you, you got him!” “He’s 30-seconds out, keep it up.” “The gap is only 10-seconds, you’re right on top of him!” This went on for 6-miles and then the course takes the runners onto a trail for the last two.
The trail section is a straight shot with tree branches draped over the top of the path on both sides creating a tunneling effect and as you looked down the path you could see almost all of your competition. Legs on fire, lungs ready to quit, stomach ready to puke and all I could think was, “Just keep turning them over! You walk now and this will all be for nothing and it will be an awfully long walk!” My mind really focused on that idea, my breathing adjusted to a really fast rhythm, but one that I could bear, and my legs just kept churning it out. I ended up passing three teams in that last two miles and for the first time doing the R2C I was passed … he was maybe 20 years old, maybe weighed 130 lbs, and maybe had had his testicles drop already … and I was ok with that. Final time for the 8-mile leg was 49:50 (6:16/mile pace).
Al did an amazing job on the final 3-miles tearing off solid 8s and we ended up finishing 7th. I love the end of this race because you finish on the sand of the beach at sunset and they feed you, which needed to happen! As for the test, I have to admit that I was really happy with the results, because I really didn’t think that I had that sustained pace in me, but the human body never ceases to amaze. Now we’ll just have to wait and see what this old group of guys can do next year!
Friday, April 10, 2009
Blossoming for Boston
Last year when I ran the Cherry Blossom 10-miler it was the last gasp of my running season. I had already injured my left foot with an undiagnosed ailment, which to this day baffles my sports medicine physio, and had pulled myself out of the Boston Marathon. I figured at that point, and my doc agreed, that there wasn’t much more damage I could do so I might as well go and try and enjoy it since I had already dropped the money on it.
So, I ran the race like I would any other, except this time I did it with a few aspirin coursing through me to take the edge off the pain. Oh yah, by the way, it was freezing goddam cold, raining and completely miserable! Regardless, I go out and run the 10 miles with one of my favorite and most admired runners, Erin Strout, and the two of us pretty much gripe through the whole thing, pleading for it to end so we can go get warm and have some brunch. When it was all said and done and the aspirin wore off, the misery continued and had a nice piercing pain shooting through my left foot and leg for the rest of the day and night, just for good measure. The very next day I hung up the running shoes for two months or so.
Fast forward to April 2009, same race, but completely different set of circumstances. This year, Boston is on, but I once again found myself in a precarious physical condition, this time fighting off Overtraining Syndrome for, give or take, three weeks. My legs had been feeling drained, my lungs tapped and psychologically I was burnt out. During those three weeks or so I had shelved my original schedule and reduced myself to 3 runs (1 maintenance, 1 hill/speed, 1 long), 2 swims and 2 full rest days a week. The plan, albeit difficult to adhere to given my masochistic, gung ho mentality and desire to crush Boston, worked wonders.
Bill Risch and I took Bolt Bus on down to DC on Saturday morning under a dismal sky, but with glowing weather reports on all the weather stations for the race. When we hit DC the sky was blue, the sun was shining gleefully upon us and the wind was slapping us in the face telling us to go the hell back where we came from. I instantly thought, “Great! Last year all over again, minus the rain!” We exited the parking lot and proceeded to walk directly to the Expo and just get it done. We were also hoping to Tweetup with new compatriot IronmanBobby at the expo, but we got our wires all crossed and it didn’t really happen.
That afternoon we met up with my old assistant soccer coach, Bailey, whose father I was training for a short time in the fall, and my cousin Cyndi. We ended up going to Kramerbooks and having pie … a lot of pie … and there was much rejoicing! While we were sitting the woman next to us started asking if we were running the race and where were from etc., exchanging introductory pleasantries. As it turns out she is an author by the name of Kimi Puntillo who was signing her new book “Great Races, Incredible Places.” She told us how she had run a marathon on every continent, including the Antarctic and one on the Great Wall of China, which just sounded arduous and painful on all that stone!
Later that evening, after dinner with running super star Erin Strout, Bill Risch and his entire family, and a few of his cronies (a story in itself for another day), the Tweetup with IronmanBobby resurfaced and became a reality. We met at Starbucks in Dupont Circle, which provided us with a nice backdrop of local color that included, but was not limited to, a roaming Bachelorette party with the bride-to-be wearing an illuminated sash and tiara, and a gaggle of shirtless, frat pledges doing circuits of the rotary. This rendez-vous turned out to be a meeting of the minds and a podcast ambush as IronmanBobby explained that he wanted to interview me for the next installment of a series he has been developing about newbie triathletes transitioning to the sport from a background heavily in one of the disciplines. Apparently I am a representative from the runners’ side of the equation … who knew? It was a lot of fun talking shop and really discussing some of my concerns going into tri training and who is or when one can be considered an “athlete”? It’s an interesting question and one that I will let go until the podcast is released.
Getting back to the task at hand, the race, you really couldn’t have asked for a more perfect morning. There was just the slightest taste of a chill in the air. The sky was clear and azure blue as daybreak crested the Nation’s capitol. Bill and I jogged over to the start to warm-up and we had just enough time drop off our bag and get into our corrals to stretch a little before the starting gun.
My mentality heading into the weekend was simple: this is a test. I really needed to find out how much my body had recuperated over the last several weeks and see what I could do. To be fair and honest, I was really nervous about doing this race, simply because of the psychological blow I could possibly receive if I wasn’t anywhere near where I felt like I needed to be. I was bracing myself for that possibility; while at the same time reminding myself that if there is nothing risked there is nothing to be gained.
When the gun went and it was time to go to work I immediately went into game face mode and just went to work. As is the start with all of these massive races that sell out in a day or two, getting through the first mile takes a while and I reminded myself of that fact when I checked out my first split. I don’t know how there is always a few 60 year old runners in the first corral, who quite obviously can’t hold the pace that those in that group will drive out, but, as per usual, there was and getting around them was a bit of a chore.
After the first couple of miles, I believe, I ran up behind Strouter and bid her a good morning as I continued on past her. My pace was good, my stride was well balanced and even and it felt really good. Cruising through the course I focused on being steady, maintaining a good breath:stride ratio/rhythm, and smooth, efficient form. It must have worked, because my splits throughout the race were pretty much spot on, except where I took on water, where I lost a few seconds.
At one point during the last third of the race I noticed that my legs felt kind of funny, almost like they weren’t there, almost phantom-like. It was the strangest thing and I later found out that Strouter said she was feeling something similar. I mean, I was cruising and feeling pretty good and to be honest I was a little surprised at how good I was feeling based upon the last race I really ran. This was Worlds apart from that, thankfully in a much more positive light!
Mile 7-8 was really funny, because it was completely miss-marked and EVERYONE all of sudden clicked there watches at the 8-mile marker and instantly started talking, “Wow, either we’re really hauling ass or they have no idea how far a mile is?” It was true though, I checked my split and it was like a 5:47 mile by their markers and that would really have been something!
As we hit the last mile marker I did some assessment and acknowledged the fact that I was intact, holding steady, comfortable and actually could feel it in my legs and lungs that I could have pushed harder and still had kick for the finish. With a half-mile to go I came along side a Tri-guy, not sure what team he was with, looked at him and said, “Half-mile to go. It’s time to close the show. Me and you, let’s push this out.” And with that said he started to match me stride-for-stride, but it didn’t last. For those who know me, the sight of a hill climb in a race peppered with runners is like a shark smelling a flailing wounded seal in the water; I just start to crush it. Within 20-yards of starting the miniscule climb my finishing partner was dying and had faded. When I crested the hill and started to press through the decline I noticed that I was alone. It was really weird, there wasn’t a soul within 25-yards of me, in front or behind. I held steady and finished strong.
My official finishing time was 1:05:02 (6:31 pace). This was exactly what I needed heading into the final two weeks before the Boston Marathon, physically, emotionally and psychologically. To go out and blow out a nice run like that and KNOW that there was more in the tank for the entire race and still have that little bit of spring and kick at the finish that had been missing for weeks was fantastic.
I’ve been waiting two years for this race and this year I almost let it slip out from under me, but I’m not going to let that happen. The new plan has been working. My eye is still on the prize and only 10 days left.
So, I ran the race like I would any other, except this time I did it with a few aspirin coursing through me to take the edge off the pain. Oh yah, by the way, it was freezing goddam cold, raining and completely miserable! Regardless, I go out and run the 10 miles with one of my favorite and most admired runners, Erin Strout, and the two of us pretty much gripe through the whole thing, pleading for it to end so we can go get warm and have some brunch. When it was all said and done and the aspirin wore off, the misery continued and had a nice piercing pain shooting through my left foot and leg for the rest of the day and night, just for good measure. The very next day I hung up the running shoes for two months or so.
Fast forward to April 2009, same race, but completely different set of circumstances. This year, Boston is on, but I once again found myself in a precarious physical condition, this time fighting off Overtraining Syndrome for, give or take, three weeks. My legs had been feeling drained, my lungs tapped and psychologically I was burnt out. During those three weeks or so I had shelved my original schedule and reduced myself to 3 runs (1 maintenance, 1 hill/speed, 1 long), 2 swims and 2 full rest days a week. The plan, albeit difficult to adhere to given my masochistic, gung ho mentality and desire to crush Boston, worked wonders.
Bill Risch and I took Bolt Bus on down to DC on Saturday morning under a dismal sky, but with glowing weather reports on all the weather stations for the race. When we hit DC the sky was blue, the sun was shining gleefully upon us and the wind was slapping us in the face telling us to go the hell back where we came from. I instantly thought, “Great! Last year all over again, minus the rain!” We exited the parking lot and proceeded to walk directly to the Expo and just get it done. We were also hoping to Tweetup with new compatriot IronmanBobby at the expo, but we got our wires all crossed and it didn’t really happen.
That afternoon we met up with my old assistant soccer coach, Bailey, whose father I was training for a short time in the fall, and my cousin Cyndi. We ended up going to Kramerbooks and having pie … a lot of pie … and there was much rejoicing! While we were sitting the woman next to us started asking if we were running the race and where were from etc., exchanging introductory pleasantries. As it turns out she is an author by the name of Kimi Puntillo who was signing her new book “Great Races, Incredible Places.” She told us how she had run a marathon on every continent, including the Antarctic and one on the Great Wall of China, which just sounded arduous and painful on all that stone!
Later that evening, after dinner with running super star Erin Strout, Bill Risch and his entire family, and a few of his cronies (a story in itself for another day), the Tweetup with IronmanBobby resurfaced and became a reality. We met at Starbucks in Dupont Circle, which provided us with a nice backdrop of local color that included, but was not limited to, a roaming Bachelorette party with the bride-to-be wearing an illuminated sash and tiara, and a gaggle of shirtless, frat pledges doing circuits of the rotary. This rendez-vous turned out to be a meeting of the minds and a podcast ambush as IronmanBobby explained that he wanted to interview me for the next installment of a series he has been developing about newbie triathletes transitioning to the sport from a background heavily in one of the disciplines. Apparently I am a representative from the runners’ side of the equation … who knew? It was a lot of fun talking shop and really discussing some of my concerns going into tri training and who is or when one can be considered an “athlete”? It’s an interesting question and one that I will let go until the podcast is released.
Getting back to the task at hand, the race, you really couldn’t have asked for a more perfect morning. There was just the slightest taste of a chill in the air. The sky was clear and azure blue as daybreak crested the Nation’s capitol. Bill and I jogged over to the start to warm-up and we had just enough time drop off our bag and get into our corrals to stretch a little before the starting gun.
My mentality heading into the weekend was simple: this is a test. I really needed to find out how much my body had recuperated over the last several weeks and see what I could do. To be fair and honest, I was really nervous about doing this race, simply because of the psychological blow I could possibly receive if I wasn’t anywhere near where I felt like I needed to be. I was bracing myself for that possibility; while at the same time reminding myself that if there is nothing risked there is nothing to be gained.
When the gun went and it was time to go to work I immediately went into game face mode and just went to work. As is the start with all of these massive races that sell out in a day or two, getting through the first mile takes a while and I reminded myself of that fact when I checked out my first split. I don’t know how there is always a few 60 year old runners in the first corral, who quite obviously can’t hold the pace that those in that group will drive out, but, as per usual, there was and getting around them was a bit of a chore.
After the first couple of miles, I believe, I ran up behind Strouter and bid her a good morning as I continued on past her. My pace was good, my stride was well balanced and even and it felt really good. Cruising through the course I focused on being steady, maintaining a good breath:stride ratio/rhythm, and smooth, efficient form. It must have worked, because my splits throughout the race were pretty much spot on, except where I took on water, where I lost a few seconds.
At one point during the last third of the race I noticed that my legs felt kind of funny, almost like they weren’t there, almost phantom-like. It was the strangest thing and I later found out that Strouter said she was feeling something similar. I mean, I was cruising and feeling pretty good and to be honest I was a little surprised at how good I was feeling based upon the last race I really ran. This was Worlds apart from that, thankfully in a much more positive light!
Mile 7-8 was really funny, because it was completely miss-marked and EVERYONE all of sudden clicked there watches at the 8-mile marker and instantly started talking, “Wow, either we’re really hauling ass or they have no idea how far a mile is?” It was true though, I checked my split and it was like a 5:47 mile by their markers and that would really have been something!
As we hit the last mile marker I did some assessment and acknowledged the fact that I was intact, holding steady, comfortable and actually could feel it in my legs and lungs that I could have pushed harder and still had kick for the finish. With a half-mile to go I came along side a Tri-guy, not sure what team he was with, looked at him and said, “Half-mile to go. It’s time to close the show. Me and you, let’s push this out.” And with that said he started to match me stride-for-stride, but it didn’t last. For those who know me, the sight of a hill climb in a race peppered with runners is like a shark smelling a flailing wounded seal in the water; I just start to crush it. Within 20-yards of starting the miniscule climb my finishing partner was dying and had faded. When I crested the hill and started to press through the decline I noticed that I was alone. It was really weird, there wasn’t a soul within 25-yards of me, in front or behind. I held steady and finished strong.
My official finishing time was 1:05:02 (6:31 pace). This was exactly what I needed heading into the final two weeks before the Boston Marathon, physically, emotionally and psychologically. To go out and blow out a nice run like that and KNOW that there was more in the tank for the entire race and still have that little bit of spring and kick at the finish that had been missing for weeks was fantastic.
I’ve been waiting two years for this race and this year I almost let it slip out from under me, but I’m not going to let that happen. The new plan has been working. My eye is still on the prize and only 10 days left.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
I Love LSD
Going into this weekend I had a very specific plan in mind, one that required strict adherence. The plan was simple: 25 miles from Friday through Sunday (5 easy miles Friday, push through a 5K race Saturday, 18 easy miles Sunday) . Not too difficult, right? Pretty straight forward. But, there is always that game of degrees that we runners like to play where we are constantly redefining and altering our own perception of "easy" or "light" or "comfortable." It is a glorious game with very few rules, but a lot of penalties that can be accrued during its practice. Personally, I am a vicious offender when playing this game, but I am recovering. What are the steps to recovery, you may ask? Well, there aren't steps per se, but I have found a great way to curb this behavior without causing any irreparable damage, which, in the end, helped me actually stick to my game plan.
Friday night, after another glorious work day I was looking forward to getting out and relieving myself of some unwanted stress, but because of my experience during speed work earlier in the week - uh, I had no speed and couldn't push myself at all - I knew that I really needed to tone down all of my recovery and maintenance runs and bring the speed way down. I have been a little gung ho about my training this Winter and it has taken its toll on my body and the time has come to be much more shrewd about my approach. So, how did I manage that for this particular run? 1) I kept reminding myself that I would be racing a 5K in approximately 15 hours and that any sort of pace tonight would adversely affect my performance. 2) I set my Polar watch, which I have the foot pod for, to beep at me whenever I went faster than an 8:20 pace - Ah, the beauty of technology! 3) Selected a nice slow jam to get stuck in my head and just let my feet synch with the beat - this is something that is not as easy to find and apply as you may think. That's quite a bit, huh? It really is, but for whatever my mind works in mysterious ways and this appeared to work.
Saturday morning was perhaps as frustrating a race as I have run over this past year. For this one I had to trek to Brooklyn, which wasn't too terrible on the train this particular morning as I was thoroughly entertained by my book, "Fool" by Christopher Moore, and was wearing enough layers that I wasn't instantly frost bitten by the arctic gusts of wind that seemed to follow me wherever I went.
The exciting part of this race was that I was reunited with my running partner from last year, Speedy Elf, which was excellent, because I haven't run with him in a long, long time. Anyway, the two of us were shooting for a sub-6 pace, but were unsuccessful by a mere 5 seconds! Honestly though, it was a race I hope to erase from memory rather quickly. What I came to understand during this race was that ALL of my fast twitch muscles are on strike, or have committed suicide, and that my legs are now honed in on longer distance runs and my finishing kick is now about as impressive as an Ewok running the 100-year dash ... Pathetic, yes! Cute, fuzzy and amusing, Yes, but Pathethic! It was a completely humbling experience, one that knocked me down a few pegs and reminded me that I need to start to have shorter more specific workouts to aid in the development of that speed and to take it easy on maintenance, recovery and longer runs that don't have a race specific purpose.
So, in continuing with the nice ebb and flow of things we've reached Sunday, where I planned on doing 18-miles (from my UWS apartment on 107th, down the West Side Highway via Riverside Park, over the Brooklyn Bridge to Prospect Park and then two loops of the park). Now, for those unfamiliar with Race With Purpose from last Fall, this run is also known as the "No Sleep 'Til Brooklyn" run.
What made this run in particular so effective was that I met up with two fellow RwPers along the way and they helped make this rather lengthy journey simply outstanding. When you run the majority of your training runs solo you forget how wonderful it is to run in a group and it has been one of the things that I have missed most this Winter, but when I do have the company it does make everything so much simpler and more enjoyable. I take my time, my pace is never an issue, I relax more, and when it comes time to turn on the jets I can and with greater confidence. All in all, the workout benefit is so much greater when with a group and I hope to either be racing or with a group for the rest of my long runs this season. Unfortunately, as fate would have it, I was unable to resist the temptation to go beyond my prescribed distance, only by 1.65 miles, thanks to another friend I bumped into in Prospect Park who convinced me to keep going, but I can't be too upset because I did prove to myself that I have the endurance for this while hitting a nice 6:40 pace for the last couple of miles. You can only imagine the big smile on my face after that!
What have we learned? I'm slow over short distances, so muggers and pick pockets should be fine. Recovery and maintenance runs NEED to be just that and the pace needs to take a back seat for nothing more than the health of your body. Lastly, LSD is best done in good company!
Friday night, after another glorious work day I was looking forward to getting out and relieving myself of some unwanted stress, but because of my experience during speed work earlier in the week - uh, I had no speed and couldn't push myself at all - I knew that I really needed to tone down all of my recovery and maintenance runs and bring the speed way down. I have been a little gung ho about my training this Winter and it has taken its toll on my body and the time has come to be much more shrewd about my approach. So, how did I manage that for this particular run? 1) I kept reminding myself that I would be racing a 5K in approximately 15 hours and that any sort of pace tonight would adversely affect my performance. 2) I set my Polar watch, which I have the foot pod for, to beep at me whenever I went faster than an 8:20 pace - Ah, the beauty of technology! 3) Selected a nice slow jam to get stuck in my head and just let my feet synch with the beat - this is something that is not as easy to find and apply as you may think. That's quite a bit, huh? It really is, but for whatever my mind works in mysterious ways and this appeared to work.
Saturday morning was perhaps as frustrating a race as I have run over this past year. For this one I had to trek to Brooklyn, which wasn't too terrible on the train this particular morning as I was thoroughly entertained by my book, "Fool" by Christopher Moore, and was wearing enough layers that I wasn't instantly frost bitten by the arctic gusts of wind that seemed to follow me wherever I went.
The exciting part of this race was that I was reunited with my running partner from last year, Speedy Elf, which was excellent, because I haven't run with him in a long, long time. Anyway, the two of us were shooting for a sub-6 pace, but were unsuccessful by a mere 5 seconds! Honestly though, it was a race I hope to erase from memory rather quickly. What I came to understand during this race was that ALL of my fast twitch muscles are on strike, or have committed suicide, and that my legs are now honed in on longer distance runs and my finishing kick is now about as impressive as an Ewok running the 100-year dash ... Pathetic, yes! Cute, fuzzy and amusing, Yes, but Pathethic! It was a completely humbling experience, one that knocked me down a few pegs and reminded me that I need to start to have shorter more specific workouts to aid in the development of that speed and to take it easy on maintenance, recovery and longer runs that don't have a race specific purpose. So, in continuing with the nice ebb and flow of things we've reached Sunday, where I planned on doing 18-miles (from my UWS apartment on 107th, down the West Side Highway via Riverside Park, over the Brooklyn Bridge to Prospect Park and then two loops of the park). Now, for those unfamiliar with Race With Purpose from last Fall, this run is also known as the "No Sleep 'Til Brooklyn" run.
What made this run in particular so effective was that I met up with two fellow RwPers along the way and they helped make this rather lengthy journey simply outstanding. When you run the majority of your training runs solo you forget how wonderful it is to run in a group and it has been one of the things that I have missed most this Winter, but when I do have the company it does make everything so much simpler and more enjoyable. I take my time, my pace is never an issue, I relax more, and when it comes time to turn on the jets I can and with greater confidence. All in all, the workout benefit is so much greater when with a group and I hope to either be racing or with a group for the rest of my long runs this season. Unfortunately, as fate would have it, I was unable to resist the temptation to go beyond my prescribed distance, only by 1.65 miles, thanks to another friend I bumped into in Prospect Park who convinced me to keep going, but I can't be too upset because I did prove to myself that I have the endurance for this while hitting a nice 6:40 pace for the last couple of miles. You can only imagine the big smile on my face after that! What have we learned? I'm slow over short distances, so muggers and pick pockets should be fine. Recovery and maintenance runs NEED to be just that and the pace needs to take a back seat for nothing more than the health of your body. Lastly, LSD is best done in good company!
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Dead Leg Tempo Test
After a week of relative consistency it came time to give my body a little test to see where it is and what could be more perfect than to execute this test at the first race of the Boston Build-Up series in CT. So, on a cold, crisp sunny Sunday morning I ventured out to Scarsdale to meet Coach Adam and to catch a ride out to the race. I was pretty excited about this race since I have not lined up for a race since the ING New York City Marathon in November and going out with a good-sized group working towards the same goal would definitely keep me honest while out on the course.
The plan heading into this 10K was to do what I call a “Dead Leg” tempo run. It's exactly what it sounds like, a tempo run done on legs that I fried the day prior. In this particular case, I wore them down doing a 13.5-mile run in Central Park broken into three segments (4 easy miles @ 8-minute pace, 8 moderate miles @ 7-7:20 pace, 1.5 easy cool down miles @ 8-minute pace). I know that these are not my true paces, but because of my recent bout with inconsistency and illness I didn’t want to overdo it and risk any sort of injury.
We arrived at the high school in Rowayton nice and early to grab our numbers, etc., but weren’t too happy with the 28-degrees with a bit of wind for good measure. With our registration task and bathroom visitations completed we went back out to the car and sat comfortably with the heated seats cranking. Coach Adam, who typically jabs at me about wearing tights and warm clothes in such weather, broke down and stated, “I’m not going back out there till five minutes before the race starts.” It was a refreshing change in tune, but he still showed me up running in shorts and a long sleeve t-shirt, the cheeky bastard!
The biggest challenge for me in a race like this, without a pace partner around, is not getting caught up in the moment and completely disregarding my plan. This is the mental discipline part of running that I have really had to learn and ingrain in myself over the last two years and I think I am finally getting the hang of it, because I did what I set out to do.
My self-prescribed plan involved starting out in the back of the pack and working my way forward for the duration of the race. I wanted to feel that little mental edge and motivation that is inherent in passing people on the course. That little added confidence that keeps the spring in your stride, something that I have not felt since New York. Honestly, I’m completely fascinated by all of the subtle psychological nuances that influence a runner and how they race. I am always trying to keep a clear, focused mind so I can hear and feel how my body reacts to everything while on the course - wind, body temperature, hills, false flats, icy spots, other runners, my own footfall, annoying people with headphones who can't hear you when you are trying to pass them on a trail, etc. It is a constant and perpetual learning experience.
From the starting gun, which I never even heard, I quickly settled into my pace (roughly 6:30s) and never lost it. I was within +/- 5 seconds from start to finish. My legs felt pretty good despite the previous day’s miles, but my breathing rhythm was a little erratic during miles 5 and 6, thanks to a couple of well placed hills. The frustrating part in all of that was I knew they were coming and tried to prepare myself for them, but still ended up all over the place with my breathing. At least I didn’t get to the top of that last hill and have to stop so I could dry heave, like I did the previous year. This race last year was the only time I have EVER had to stop in a race, because I thought I was going to puke.
For the last three-quarters of a mile I had a little fun catching up to this big triathlon guy who every time I got level with him would start sprinting a bit. These bursts were nice and he looked really fast while doing them, but I kept the same pace and with each one the separation he created decreased until he really just had nothing left. The last time we came level I said to him, “come on, big man, only 400 meters to go push’em out,” and then proceeded to pass him. That was the last I saw of him, but I heard him trying to get his wind back to catch me all the way through the finish.
The last 100 meters of this race was the BEST! You came into the high school’s parking lot and the road that leads up to the front door, which also happened to be our finish, was like running on a Slip’N Slide that someone left out for the winter. It was nothing but densely packed ice that scared the crap out of me! Earlier, when I walked across it to go inside and get my bib I nearly bought it and sprawled out on the ice like Jason Priestley playing a figure skater on SNL and that was just walking. It also drummed up memories of my college days running in the winter and that one fatal slip on a sidewalk in PA that resulted in a torn hamstring and the end of my running days for a great many moons.
I ended up finishing 40th overall at a 6:39 pace according to them and a 6:30 pace according to my watch. It was a good test for my legs and lungs. I maintained my pace throughout, was disciplined and finished with energy to burn. It was a great run, some good fun and I am looking forward to the second Build-Up race in two weeks, which has even more meaning since it was the last race I participated in last year before I deferred my Boston entry due to my injured left foot. It will be time for some revenge!
The plan heading into this 10K was to do what I call a “Dead Leg” tempo run. It's exactly what it sounds like, a tempo run done on legs that I fried the day prior. In this particular case, I wore them down doing a 13.5-mile run in Central Park broken into three segments (4 easy miles @ 8-minute pace, 8 moderate miles @ 7-7:20 pace, 1.5 easy cool down miles @ 8-minute pace). I know that these are not my true paces, but because of my recent bout with inconsistency and illness I didn’t want to overdo it and risk any sort of injury.
We arrived at the high school in Rowayton nice and early to grab our numbers, etc., but weren’t too happy with the 28-degrees with a bit of wind for good measure. With our registration task and bathroom visitations completed we went back out to the car and sat comfortably with the heated seats cranking. Coach Adam, who typically jabs at me about wearing tights and warm clothes in such weather, broke down and stated, “I’m not going back out there till five minutes before the race starts.” It was a refreshing change in tune, but he still showed me up running in shorts and a long sleeve t-shirt, the cheeky bastard!
The biggest challenge for me in a race like this, without a pace partner around, is not getting caught up in the moment and completely disregarding my plan. This is the mental discipline part of running that I have really had to learn and ingrain in myself over the last two years and I think I am finally getting the hang of it, because I did what I set out to do.My self-prescribed plan involved starting out in the back of the pack and working my way forward for the duration of the race. I wanted to feel that little mental edge and motivation that is inherent in passing people on the course. That little added confidence that keeps the spring in your stride, something that I have not felt since New York. Honestly, I’m completely fascinated by all of the subtle psychological nuances that influence a runner and how they race. I am always trying to keep a clear, focused mind so I can hear and feel how my body reacts to everything while on the course - wind, body temperature, hills, false flats, icy spots, other runners, my own footfall, annoying people with headphones who can't hear you when you are trying to pass them on a trail, etc. It is a constant and perpetual learning experience.
From the starting gun, which I never even heard, I quickly settled into my pace (roughly 6:30s) and never lost it. I was within +/- 5 seconds from start to finish. My legs felt pretty good despite the previous day’s miles, but my breathing rhythm was a little erratic during miles 5 and 6, thanks to a couple of well placed hills. The frustrating part in all of that was I knew they were coming and tried to prepare myself for them, but still ended up all over the place with my breathing. At least I didn’t get to the top of that last hill and have to stop so I could dry heave, like I did the previous year. This race last year was the only time I have EVER had to stop in a race, because I thought I was going to puke.
For the last three-quarters of a mile I had a little fun catching up to this big triathlon guy who every time I got level with him would start sprinting a bit. These bursts were nice and he looked really fast while doing them, but I kept the same pace and with each one the separation he created decreased until he really just had nothing left. The last time we came level I said to him, “come on, big man, only 400 meters to go push’em out,” and then proceeded to pass him. That was the last I saw of him, but I heard him trying to get his wind back to catch me all the way through the finish.
The last 100 meters of this race was the BEST! You came into the high school’s parking lot and the road that leads up to the front door, which also happened to be our finish, was like running on a Slip’N Slide that someone left out for the winter. It was nothing but densely packed ice that scared the crap out of me! Earlier, when I walked across it to go inside and get my bib I nearly bought it and sprawled out on the ice like Jason Priestley playing a figure skater on SNL and that was just walking. It also drummed up memories of my college days running in the winter and that one fatal slip on a sidewalk in PA that resulted in a torn hamstring and the end of my running days for a great many moons.
I ended up finishing 40th overall at a 6:39 pace according to them and a 6:30 pace according to my watch. It was a good test for my legs and lungs. I maintained my pace throughout, was disciplined and finished with energy to burn. It was a great run, some good fun and I am looking forward to the second Build-Up race in two weeks, which has even more meaning since it was the last race I participated in last year before I deferred my Boston entry due to my injured left foot. It will be time for some revenge!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)