GSSI Testing: Party Like the Pros

In the weeks following the 2011 Boston Marathon, a random twist of fate brought the good people of the Gatorade Sports Science Institute (GSSI) to me and I was invited to participate in nutrition and endurance testing while they were in NYC for the 2011 NFL Draft.  My first thought was, “this can’t be for real, why the hell would I be chosen for such a thing?!”  But it was real and after sitting there and staring at the invitation I went ahead and accepted.  In my mind I simply thought, “how often would I have the opportunity to go through the same tests that professional athletes go through?”  Secretly, all I wanted to know was if I would sweat a Gatorade color while in black-and-white!!!

The testing was part of the GSSI’s efforts to help endurance athletes gain a better understanding of how their bodies work and provide ways to improve their athletic performance via nutrition and hydration.  It consisted of a Body Composition (BOD POD) assessment, the Wingate bike test, 1-mile run estimating VO2, and a fueling survey with a sports scientist.  When I got the sheet describing all of the tests I was ridiculously excited and then mortified to be put under the microscope a little bit, but once I was told one last little surprise bit of information all that apprehension went away.  I was told that in addition to the testing I was also going to have the opportunity to sit and pick the brain of U.S. Olympian and long distance runner Dathan Ritzenhein, which just so happens to be among my favorite U.S. distance runners. Too cool!

Now, to give you a little perspective on how crazy fast this all happened, I received the email at 3:22 pm that Tuesday and I essentially had 24-hours to pull together all of the medical releases and doctors signatures so that they would even let me participate, which turned out to be a rather daunting task with work and such an incredibly tight window to get everything in to the powers that be.  I’m amazed that I managed to pull it all together in time, but thanks to the help of a few friends and some shameless ignoring of the work on my desk I was all systems go.

Thursday rolls around and I’m basically on the edge of my seat until the clock rings time-to-go-o’clock and I bolt out of the office and head to midtown west.  It’s just my luck that while I am en route the sky opens up and the heavens crack in dramatic and biblical fashion.  The streets are flooded and the rain is coming down in sheets.   Regardless of the inclement conditions I get my sorry butt there and I go from excited to absolutely mortified and intimidated by the scene once I walk through the door.  I know most of you have seen the commercials during almost every sport on TV with the treadmill, bike and all the rest set up in a white room with lab scientists around … well, this was staged EXACTLY like that and I quickly descended into the pit of my stomach.

The BOD POD:  This was the first test and perhaps the most embarrassing.  This test is designed to determine your body composition, the ratio of lean (muscle) mass to fat mass.  First of all you are asked to tear down to just compression shorts and are then weighed, which I was a little self-conscious about.  I found out I was 190 pounds, which was news to me!  I hadn’t weighed myself in probably two or three years and I never thought I was that heavy, but I hadn’t done anything than eat since Boston, so it kind of made sense.  From there you go into the BOD POD in just the compression shorts and this really amusing red swim cap.  Now, the BOD POD itself looks a lot like a giant egg with a window, or Dr. Evil’s escape pod, or the chamber in The Fly that creates the Brundle Fly!  Very “ground control to Major Tom”.  You simply sit inside the POD silently, they press a few buttons and BAM it’s done!  If you’re claustrophobic it probably isn’t that comfortable, but all in a painless experience that provided me with some interesting information.  I was hoping for a little gamma radiation experiment and to turn green and jacked when I get mad, but alas it was not to be.  What I did learn: I was in the “Moderately Lean” category with a percent body fat of 16.5.
 

The Wingate:  Next up was the Wingate stationary bike test, which is designed to measure anaerobic capacity, power and fatigue; the energy system responsible for quick bursts of energy such as those used during interval training.  Basically what you did for this test was climb onto this special stationary bike and are then asked to build up your cadence until you are at your maximum output at which point they count down from ten and throw a load of resistance on and you are supposed to continue to “sprint” as fast as you can with that load on for 30-seconds.  Now, when they told me a “load” I thought a really big steep hill, well, I was wrong.  This was basically like pedaling at full speed on a flat and then being thrown onto the steepest slopes of Everest and being told to maintain that cadence and pace!  It.  Was.  Ridiculous!  Seriously, this test should be called “the Emasculator,” because there is no way you feel like any sort of athlete at all, let alone in shape, by the time you are done with this one.  So, I was cranking right along, the lab tech called out the 10-second count, I pushed to maximum warp, and then WHAM they the load on and I was immediately put in my place athletically.  The only thought running through my head was the same that runs through my head whenever I’m having a bad run, “just do NOT stop turning your feet over!”  I managed to fight and push my way through the duration, but only just barely, and the techs said that I did a lot better than most of the others that had come through did, which I took as them just being nice, but who can say?  It was incredibly tough yet interesting as I spun my legs loose and they showed me the computer data from the test.  The results were as follows: Peak Power = 1,413 Watts (W), Fatigue Index = 60.44%, Anaerobic Capacity = 9.7 W/kg.

1-Mile Sub-Maximal Treadmill Run:  So, after the humbling of the Wingate test I had the opportunity to redeem myself running on the treadmill, something I loathe doing, but at least it was something I know I can hold my own at.  This test sub-maximally estimates your aerobic capacity (VO2 Max), the energy system allowing you to continue activity for a prolonged period, as well as also factoring into how well you recover between bouts of exercise.   Here I was simply asked to put on a heart rate monitor and run a mile at a sustained comfortable pace, which was a 7:25 pace.  Funny enough, there wasn’t much more to this test than that.  I was somewhere in the 95^th percentile (54.35 mL/kg/min). 

Fuel Survey:  Lastly, I sat with one of the technicians and went through a myriad of questions regarding my fuel intake before, during and after my workouts in an effort to assess whether I was fueling properly to achieve maximum performance.  I found this to be one of the most interesting aspects of the testing, because I felt like I fueled well during training, but I only scored 13/30.  The major reason for my score being so low was that I didn’t fuel heading into my workouts.  For my morning workouts I generally just rolled out of bed and got them done without an fuel intake and it was the same for my evening workouts, but my saving grace was that I did fuel up within 30-minutes of completing my workouts with carbs and protein (thank you Athletes HoneyMilk & HoneyStinger). Furthermore, I redeemed myself with the fact that I am good about hydrating, which they also tested that morning courtesy of a urine sample.  I was a little shocked by my low score, but it was great to hear their suggestions and I also appreciated the fact that they weren’t trying to sell me on the new Gatorade Pro Series. 

Once the testing was finished I had the pleasure of sitting with and talking to Dathan Ritzenhein, whom I’ve watched race on a number of occasions, but never did I realize how small he is or, probably more appropriately, how large I am by comparison.  I mean seriously, I look like I am superimposed or photoshopped into the picture of the two of us … I truly am Sasquatchian ... call me GIGANTOR!!!!  Anyway, while I sat there with him we talked about some of the different workouts him and his coach use to get him ready to race, discussing the merits of the track, shorter high intensity workouts, and the idea that “mileage is King”.  We also talked about the Olympic trials in Houston next year and how we both think that having the men’s and women’s trials on the same day sort of cheapen the experience.  The last Olympic trials were held at the New York and Boston marathons giving each gender their moment in the sun, so to speak.  I was extremely pleased at how down to earth Dathan was and the ease to with we spoke.   It was refreshing and a moment in time that I will definitely cherish. 

I have to thank the Gatorade Sports Science Institute for this amazing opportunity to undergo the rigorous testing processes that professional athletes go through for assessing their endurance and nutrition.  It was an incredibly enlightening and unforgettable experience, so thank you!!  Since that time I’ve experimented with what I learned and have had fantastic results, most noticeably at the Reach the Beach Relay – Massachusetts.  I feel like I now have a much more solid grasp of my fueling and hydration situation and will continue to fine-tune it over the summer heading into the fall marathon season. 

2011 Boston Marathon: More Than A Race

When I look back at my experience at the 2011 Boston Marathon and try to find the words to adequately convey all that transpired I’ve been at a loss. What transpired on April 18th fell well short of expectation yet far beyond anything I could have ever imagined. Happiness and bliss, heartbreak and sorrow, pain and peace, a myriad of descriptors ineptly fall from my lips giving no credence to a day that truly deserves more, so in order to give voice to the inexpressible I shall borrow from one whose words are far superior to my own and resonate with the story still to follow:

“The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places”

– Ernest Hemmingway.

Heading into race weekend, as I mentioned in my previous post, my nerves were getting the best of me mentally, but physically I felt good to go. My two runs up by my parent’s house were smooth, relaxed and completely comfortable. Mechanically I felt sound, I was on my home turf, and I had the support of my family and friends that were going to be out on the course. Those two days prior to the race went almost entirely according to plan, which should have been my first clue that something was going to go awry, because in the Sasquatch family nothing ever, and I do mean ever, goes the way we plan for it to. The night before the race my travel companions, Eissa and Elyssa, and I made the trip south into the City and little by little I felt the tight knit confidence I had built up over those couple of days slacken and begin to unravel.

That evening became an unfortunate comedy of errors, where we made a slight miscalculation in the reading of the address for the apartment we were staying at. We were on the right street, only about 400 numbers and a couple of miles away on a night when bars were just starting to empty as Ray Allen drained the Celtics’ game winning three-ball with seconds on the clock, so grabbing a cab was an adventure all its own. Once we finally got ourselves situated, I’d say settled, but I just wasn’t, I simply laid there staring out the window from the couch where I was “sleeping” and just kept fidgeting and fidgeting, freaking myself out that I wouldn’t hear my alarm or I’d go get dressed and realize that I forgot something essential. Those are the things one comes to expect on the night before a big race, but what weighed on my mind the most had nothing to do with logistics or preparedness, it was about disappointment. Not anything physical, but rather a feeling heading into the race, a pressure that I had slowly been piling upon myself all week long and now my chest was feeling the full burden and displacement of that weight on the race still to come.

I wanted nothing more than for Boston to be the culmination of what was an amazing spring season for everyone on Team Sasquatch, a moment where I was no longer a coach but just a runner amongst 26,000 others careening through the streets of Massachusetts. But, in a moment of unequivocal shock and fear I felt as if I was stripped bare beneath a single spotlight on a dark stage with the eyes of the world trained on my every moment. A little dramatic in interpretation? Yes, absolutely, but the fear that was swelling within my chest that I would not be able to put forth an effort worthy of my Team, my family, Maddy’s son Stone, everyone that donated to my fund-raising, and my own pride was so much so that there is no other way I can describe it. I could feel myself buckling beneath the Atlas weight my mind had cultivated and I just continued to stare watching the night sky absorb the last shades of mercury and cobalt in its black velvet cloak.

I was greeted into the new day with the jarring and unbelievably annoying shriek of the air-raid alarm on my new iPhone, which I have learned to love and hate. My morning routine went without incident, but I was still on edge and extremely jittery. I ate, all bathroom issues were resolved, all my gear was accounted for, the only thing that was even remotely in question was whether or not to wear a sleeveless base layer underneath my race shirt, which I spent the day before writing all the names of the contributors to my JDRF fund-raising on. After being outside for a while and feeling the briskness of the wind, which had blown all the flags straight, for the duration of the morning I decided that being a little warmer was a good idea. This was the first mistake of the day.

As the race began I stripped off my throwaway shirt and settled in with the rapacious hoard in wave 1 corral 5 that seemed to consume the entire roadway. Why wasn’t there enough room for people to get into the corral? I have no idea, but it was a mess. The never-ending mass of humanity amoebically swelled and surged forward and as I crossed the start mat I finally began to relax a bit, at least mentally. Unfortunately, and much to my chagrin, I could still feel the tension and stress in my ribs. The first mile few miles were good and slow, which was exactly to plan, and when I hit the 5k mark I had pretty well settled in pace-wise, but it just wasn’t clean and fluid. The tautness in my chest felt like two big hands threading their fingers between my ribs and pressing on my lungs. What was worse was that my legs felt a bit stiff, something I thought would just work itself out over those early miles, but apparently I was mistaken. So, on the one hand my head was a lot clearer, on the other my body had lingering doubts.

Shortly after the 10k mark I was up to speed and was holding a nice steady pace, but I was feeling like crap and now the day was starting to heat up. Somewhere along that stretch I tossed off my nice lined pair of Pearl arm sleeves, which was oh so refreshing, but that was far from the end of my mid-run tear down. A little further along my shorts became a phenomenally useful storage receptacle with my favorite hat being shoved into my crotch and then my wonderful Sugoi gloves jammed in the back. This is significant, because when it finally came time to strip off the nice Falke base layer, which I thought I was going to need for the duration of the race, at mile 8 there wasn’t any storage space left in my newly developed Swiss Army shorts. What soon followed was my runner’s interpretation of a woman taking her bra off without removing her shirt and I’m not gonna lie, the bra trick is far cooler and more fun to witness than watching the missing link trying to maintain a 6:50 mile whilst stripping a fitted base layer from under a singlet. It was an ugly piece of mobile performance art that a few poor souls running behind me enjoyed, highlighted with a guffaw or three. Once I was free from that sleeveless Bastille I felt so much better, but the damage may have already been done.

As we hit the “Tunnel of Love” two things became abundantly clear: #1) the bulge in my shorts was completely unnatural and oddly misshapen, and #2) the rest of the day was going to be a battle. The pressure in my chest was still present (albeit to a lesser degree), my abstinent legs begrudgingly continued to turn over, but I was still getting my nutrition in and holding the pace I wanted, so it couldn’t be that bad, right? Exactly! So I held on, I kept on cranking, but it didn’t last as long as I would have hoped. Around mile 16 I went to continue my nutrition regiment and realized the potential for an occurrence of the Inverse Newton Law – what goes down must come up – was a serious, serious possibility and I decided to pass on any sort of force feeding … another error.

Right after the 30k mark, the fade was on, like a ‘Jersey Shore’ trip to the barber. My legs were asking questions I didn’t have the answers to, my stomach was agitated with the needle buried below ‘E’, and for such a lovely sunny day, the clouds were starting to roll in around my head. Somewhere just past Heartbreak Hill the World began to spin ever so slightly and I knew that if I was going to finish I had to stop and shake that off. Shortly after cresting the hill on the downward slope I tried to hit the reset button and bring everything back together. The walk was brief and it helper clear the cobwebs, but it didn’t last. Within the next mile I had to do it again, and then again, and then the time between each stop became shorter and shorter. As I felt my body begin to knot up from the stop and go I took one final look at my watch and saw that my goal was gone, this was not going to be the day I had so hoped it would be.

I kept moving and the more I thought about the goal I worked towards all winter, no matter the weather, watching it slipping away I felt a little piece of myself break. I listened to the crowd pushing me to carry on, to get my legs turning over again and I did, but as my pace and finishing time continued to slip I took a deep breath, looked about the course, and decided to make something of what time and distance that remained by helping whomever I could. There was nothing for me to prove by forcing the issue, but I could help others who still had their goals in sight. I started talking to everyone around me, encouraging them to push a little longer, to find their feet and fight their way to the finish. My walk breaks became strategically placed in locations where others were walking, fighting off cramps, really anywhere there was an opportunity I could do something for someone else to get them to the finish line.

Then, right after making the final left hand turn onto Boylston Street, bringing the finish line into full focus, I felt my legs under me and was just going to push it out until I saw this guy shouldering a taller fellow along the course. Seeing the smaller Irishman awkwardly carrying the much taller gentleman, who was almost completely out on his feet, I stopped and asked if he wanted a hand. He said that he was OK and that I should push on, but I told him my goal was long gone and that he looked like he could really use the help. I stepped in and took the man’s other arm and we started working our way towards the finish line.

As I leaned in and took the man’s other arm, in broken, vomit laden English, he asked me my name, to which I replied, but when I asked him his I’m pretty sure his synapses decided to take a breather and the Irishman filled in saying his name was “Don”. I have no idea why I can’t remember the name of the Irishman. I really should know, because I talked to him long after the race was over. I digress. We slowly ambled along the race route, Don’s legs just barely bearing any weight, and I called out to the grand stand waving my other arm to get them cheering him in, hoping that that would help wake him up a bit. We hit the finish line mat at 3:16:18, about three feet from a guy who had just proposed to his fiancé, and we hauled Don over to a medic with a wheel chair. The Irishman and I shook hands and congratulated one another as we walked on.

Looking back on all that transpired on the course, completely ignoring my finish time, this may be the best race I have ever run. My time was far from what it should have been and the world did break me, but I am so happy and proud of what I did in that broken place that I think this may have been my best race to date. This one was for Stone and Maddy Hubbard, you guys are amazing, and I hope the effort I put forth is worthy of your names and all of those that appeared on my back.

Running With The Devil

It is none too often that I can reasonably and factually say that I don’t have something to say, whether it’s inane, meaningless babble purged from the stagnant, dusty recesses of my brain or the lofty, intellectual, Sasquatchian lexicon laden musings of my absurdly nerdy synaptic bundles, but over the last eight weeks I’ve lost me words. I’ve been absolutely flummoxed, staring blankly at the glow of a few lines of text, edited, re-edited, re-written, struck through, and discarded, which gets to be quite taxing on a furry man’s mind. Just the same, I have come to an understanding and whilst the hour may be late for such an epiphany, the timing couldn’t be more perfect.

*Note: Each song coincides with the section below it*



Within a few strides of leaving work for this past Boston Marathon weekend, “Fear is your only God!” blasting in my ear balls, and I could feel all the cylinders fall into place one click at a time. I knew from the moment that I started scheduling this spring racing season last fall that it was going to be ambitious, but I didn’t fear it. I welcomed the challenge with a good plan and a fistful of bravado, but it is one thing to see it on the calendar and another to start living it. As time carried on and everything on that schedule became more real the nerves started to settle in and set-up a nice Hooverville in my stomach, keeping me in persistent knots. The first quarter of 2011 most closely resembled a Sasquatch plate spinner on the Ed Sullivan Show, in perpetual motion, the fur creating a sweet optical illusion of speed, hoping to just be quick enough to keep from breaking any of the plates. Much easier said than done and in the end one plate did fall, the question is which one?



In February, I journeyed far south to a vast foreign land called “Texas”, where I ran the Austin Marathon, which, and it pains me to say this, was a pretty sweet race. In addition to myself, there were a number of Team Sasquatch runners participating in both the half and full marathons and in retrospect this was a race fraught with demons. Each runner was locked up in foot-to-face combat battling the stigma of a bad race, the self-inflicted moniker of “slow”, pushing through an injury, getting their nutrition and its timing down, or finding their love for the sport again. I don’t know if you’ve ever experienced this, but it’s like running with a psychotically possessed version of Peter Pan’s shadow punching, kicking, clawing, and pulling at you, breaking your will, trying to force you to concede. They fought for every stride and every breath and when it was all said and done the day was ours and it was Mojito’clock! I couldn’t be prouder of the effort, tenacity, and mental toughness that was on display over the weekend and to make it even sweeter the majority of the Team members their had never met in person, but the camaraderie was such that you would think they trained with the Tuesday & Thursday Night Torture crew in New York. It was like hanging with the Goonies, just not sure who Sloth would’ve been … probably me though!



Fast forward four weeks and I leave the Right Coast for the self-proclaimed, yet deservedly maligned, “Best” Coast for the LA Marathon. It is while in the City of Angels that I come to realize that even the best-laid plans are not without their flaws. After a lovely and relaxing Friday and Saturday night with my brother and some friends it was time to toe the line once more, but due to a few crossed wires I ended up running the race on my own rather than pacing anyone. I thought to myself in the final moments before the race began, “ok, this will be a solid training run with Boston just up ahead.” Of course that is before all the choirs of Angels decided to cry, weep, piss, spit, raspberry, snot, puke, and crap all over us. Within a mile, not a few, a mile, the rain started coming down lightly and progressively got heavier. That was fine, I can deal with that, but the temperature of the rainwater and the lovely punishing wind gusts that careened through the city streets, like Mr. Freeze in a Maserati and humbled me.

By mile 18 my calf locked up, I was 17 lovely shades of blue and purple, run/walking, then just walking and shivering, and at mile 21 my shoulder angel and devil decided to make an appearance. “It’s only five more miles, you can totally do this, collect your medal, and take a nice eleven and a half hour shower with the water on scorching!” said the prideful devil turning my face and staring me down intently. “What are you going to gain from this run that will help you prep for Boston? A medal? A nice calf injury and hypothermia with a side of upper respiratory infection? What would you tell one of your runners?” queried the exasperated angel backhanding the side of my face. Feeling defeated, but knowing I was making the right decision I flicked the little devil into one of the massive freezing cold puddles and walked off the course. It was the first time I’ve ever DNF’d a race, even though the LA Marathon website has me finishing in 3:45 or something, and the almost shameful feeling that settled in was one that lingered like a storm cloud following Snoopy, zapping him as he tried to escape it.



The week after LA was all about getting that irksome, deafening, prideful little voice to, as my Pappy would say, “stifle thy self.” Tuesday was back to the routine with work, training, and refocusing on the prize, Boston. Each day whipped past and then I found myself sitting at my computer working on training plans on a decent Sunday afternoon passively looking for motivation to even leave my apartment, let alone go for a long, hilly and completely isolated 21-mile run. But, in a flash, there was a nudge and another and one more and as they flashed upon my twitter feed it was time to man up and get my ass in gear. I ate, hydrated, got all my gear together, and marshaled myself to a course that I tell anyone I train, “Do NOT do this alone.” I needed to do it. I needed a real test for my legs that was challenging and done at a pace indicative of my training and aspirations for Boston.

I crossed over the GW Bridge being blown to the side, as per usual, feeling that slight twinge in my calf and just kept going. Once over the bridge it was all about me and my head. I kept thinking to myself, “if your calf goes to hell and you have to walk back this is going to be one long, long day!” But after the first good climb I just focused on the run, enjoying the peace and serenity of the park, the absence of all distractions, and the simplicity of just me and the road. My favorite feature of this course, and why I love it so friggin’ much, is a one mile climb dead in the center of it that can be oh so humbling, but I pushed through it and, like the super running dork that I am, when I cleared the crest I clapped for the effort. Yah, I was a total tool that day, but on that particular day I had to give myself a little credit for sticking with it. I negative split the back half of the course passing the one other runner I saw on the course, but not before sharing my water bottle and endurolytes with him, apparently he was a little unprepared. Having slain the mighty Pallisades Park course I felt ready for the beast that is Boston.



Within the single beat of a hummingbird’s wings it’s time to taper and it just wouldn’t be a normal taper if something weird didn’t happen, right? Whether it’s the lovely aches and pains or those last few training runs that just feel like crap, something always seems to rise to the surface. Well, during the last month of my training I started hitting the pool regularly to give my legs a rest and just keep working my lungs. Two Fridays before the marathon I hit the pool and get 1,000 yards in quick before I erupt at the senior citizen save the manatee float parade that was bobbing its way along the “Fast/Medium” lane. I jump out, head down to the locker room to shower. Just as I get there I stop and take one good deep breath to settle the magma coursing through my veins and when I let that breath out I got into the worst back spasm I have ever experienced in my life, only on my lower left side. The spasm is so violent that I have to pseudo-dash for the bathroom so I can puke my guts out. Why? Who the hell knows, but it was ugly, the discomfort lingering for days, and whatever confidence I had cached was purged to the porcelain Gods that one fine day.



Needless to say I had a hard time shaking all of the detritus from my mind heading into Boston Marathon weekend and what’s worse is that I haven’t been even the slightest bit excited about the race. Yes, I am one of those people that tend not to get excited until the day of, but this was different. I have nerves!! I decided weeks ago to dedicate my race my race to Team Sasquatch member Maddy Hubbard’s 14-year-old son Stone who was recently diagnosed with Type-I Diabetes, something to which I am extremely proud of. The incredible generosity of the Twitterverse is something to marvel at. With the support of more than 50 contributors, my own personal time goals, so many others tracking my time, my back still bothering me, and my boss cranky about me missing work on Monday those aforementioned nerves started feeling like a swarming hoard of sadistic animatronic “It’s a Small World After All” characters holding a concert in my guts.

Before long I’ll be toeing the line and I will know how this story will end, but what I do know regardless is that I will keep fighting and endure.

CM10: The Good, the Bad & the Ugly

It’s taken nearly a full week to completely digest all that went down at the 2010 Chicago Marathon, but as the dust, and my stomach, has settled I now know that this race was definitely not the prettiest or my fastest, but it may well have been the toughest I have ever run and my most meaningful as a runner.  Seriously, this is not that imposing a course to run. It’s flat, it’s fast, and there is an outstanding crowd to support you, all the makings of a phenomenal race and PR. And yet, who knew what exciting and unexpected adversity awaited me on such a beautiful 10/10/10? …? … Well then, allow me to enlighten you with ‘The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly’ of my Chicago Marathon.

Opening Credits:

Being one of the 5 World Marathon Majors, one would assume that getting to the start and the seeded corrals would be pretty simple and without too much stress. Something for which you would expect to give a lot of credit to the organizers for, but alas this was not that day.  Hahahaha!  In fact, it could NOT have been further from the truth!  Race day morning I intended to arrive at Corral B at 7:00 am to meet two other runners, Josh (@jdhollandsc) and Susan (@susanruns), but once I got out of the hotel and headed toward the seeded corrals I realized that this was never going to happen.  People were meandering about slamming into everything within arm’s distance, like a an overzealous kindergarten class all getting off of a merry-go-round going 90 mph at the same time, it was rather chaotic.  This was then further compounded when I realized the Seeded Corral entrance was on the other side of the park and that myself and about 11-gagillion other people were all trying to get through a bib-check-gate about the size of a broom closet!  This was the slowest moving pack of fast runners I have ever been in, but to be fair to them, it wasn’t their fault.  It was rather amusing to watch the numerous individuals auditioning for the role of Spider-Man by climbing the 10-12-foot tall chain link fence separating us from the path to our corrals. It was pretty ridiculous. People were PISSED!  I just didn’t care so long as I got there before the gun went.

The Good:

Ok, so not the best of beginnings, but it got better! After quickly watering a tree, I entered Corral B ready to rumble.  I was calm, collected, focused, and felt loose and well prepared despite all of the little nagging voices in the back of my mind reminding about my knee over the last few weeks and missing my last good long run.  In that moment, I channeled my inner Samuel L. Jackson and Tim Roth from Pulp Fiction, “Bitch, be cool!”  “Be cool, hunny bunny.”  Once I was back on the level, it was go time and the good times DID roll.

The first 16-miles could not have gone better.  I was perfectly in-line with my pace plan and just hammered out the miles almost effortlessly.  Check out the splits:

Mile 1:  7:02          Mile 9:  6:48

  Mile 2:  6:48          Mile 10:  6:36

 Mile 3:  6:48          Mile 11:  6:42

 Mile 4:  6:36          Mile 12:  6:33

 Mile 5:  6:41          Mile 13:  6:39

 Mile 6:  6:42          Mile 14:  6:43

Mile 7:  6:38          Mile 15:  6:48

Mile 8:  6:33          Mile 16:  6:54

Even At mile 16 I still had plenty in the tank and in the legs and was ready to keep hammering out the miles … that is until IT happened …

The Bad:

Shortly after mile-16 is when IT happened.  I hit the aid station for both Gatorade and water and then proceeded to take my next vanilla GU.  Somewhere in that next half-mile did my best impression of Lard Ass from Stand By Me and proceeded to projectile vomit on the side of the course!!! This, my friends, was a first for me and was oh-so-much worse than the incident with the fly months and months ago.  Now, this pit stop was REALLY quick!  I wasn’t about to let my whole race disappear because of this, so once I was done I was done and I got right back into rhythm and on course, but my head was recalculating EVERYTHING as I was now going to be running a high pace with a severely depleted system.  As it turns I didn’t lose a lot of time over the next two-miles, but I only had water for the next couple of water stops, just to be on the safe side. 

At mile-19 I start to feel the effects of running with a tank that is pretty close to be completely empty, if it wasn’t there already, and I feel my head starting to get a little light and fuzzy. I decide heading into the next aid station that I’m going to WALK, something I NEVER do, and suck down some Gatorade and water, since I’m sweating like Ted Striker in Airplane!  As soon as the Gatorade, which was thicker than semi-congealed red Jell-O, hit my stomach I knew that something was not right at all and I rushed to the water station hoping to dilute it quickly, but it was all for not!  The second volley of regurgitation struck shortly thereafter and I now knew that my sub-3:00:00 marathon goal was now out of sight.  Even more disconcerting than the lack of nutrition going on was the fact that my vomitotiousness had now tapped out my muscles (core, hips, legs) and everything was starting to tighten up on me.  This all happened very quickly, but I decided I was going to run as much as I could and keep fighting.

The Ugly:

Over the next 2-miles I went to wipe my forehead, thinking that with the heat constantly rising I would be sopping wet, but I wasn’t.  What I ended up doing was merely flaking off some salt that had dried up on my face.  Crap!  I needed some water and some salt and I needed them FAST.  I stopped at the next medical tent I saw and asked if they had Endurolytes or salt tablets or anything of that sort so I could try something other than syrupy Gatorade or GU, but as it turns out not one, not two, but THREE different medical tents that approached were not equipped with anything of the sort.  So, with no alternative left to me, at mile-21 I tried downing Gatorade again with a quick water chaser, but it yielded the same result … GROSS!  Well, I guess the third time is the charm, because after that last episode there was no more puking!  Then again, there was no more drinking Gatorade either, I just stuck with water and … um … water!  Regardless of it all I kept running, or what could at least mildly be discerned as running.

So, there I am, completely depleted, muscles on fire and tightening all the time, stomach ablaze, and with a head that kept getting foggier and foggier ever half to three-quarters of a mile.  Every time I start to run again it takes so much out of me just to get into any sort of rhythm and my legs are just fighting me with every stride I take.  I reduced myself to a run-walk regiment, with walking gaps of no longer than 30-seconds, just so I can keep my head from fogging up too much and giving me the spins and I am able to manage this for the majority of the rest of the race. 

Closing Credits:

During this long, long, long final 10k of this race my mind is whipping around with all kinds of detritus, which had been bouncing off the insides of my skull and accumulated in my brain since mile-16ish.  I had started keeping a running tally of the number of times that I felt like quitting and just packing it in, which by final count was like 738 times.  I thought about the logistics if I DNF’d when I first wanted to bow out and how the hell I would have even made it back to the start/finish.  I thought about how much work I had put into this race, the amount of pressure I had placed on myself to hit my mark.  Then, I finally came around to it and I thought about my runners, all the members of Team Sasquatch and my Tues/Thurs Night Torture crew that I talk to about all of the things that can happen in a race and how to handle them, and it is in that moment that I find some inner peace and I start seeing things clearly.

One thing that I have always said and that I truly believe is that if you can truly wrap your mind around what you need to do you can make your body do anything, and this was a moment where I felt myself truly grasp that concept.  With each mile marker that I passed I kept my eye on the total time and in that moment of absolute clarity I knew that Boston was still within reach, but I just couldn’t let myself be dragged in the minutia that my body was forcing on me.  With about 1.5 miles to go I hear the crowd lining the streets start yelling, “Yah! Come on Boston pacers! Finish Strong!”  At which point I start talking to myself out loud, which @mattsix can vouch for since he saw me doing it, and simply say, “You can’t walk another step until this is done. Move your ass, get yourself out in front of those 3:10 pacers and don’t look back!”  As the words slip past my lips rather softly one of the pacers smiles a little and I turn up my pace just enough to get out in front of the both of them.  I get to that miserable, stupid hill within the last half mile, which is just so insignificant as hills go, and I just push it out with whatever I have left.

As I hit the finish line mat my watch reads 3:08:50!  I quickly think to myself, “Mission Accomplished,” and then I look up to find the nearest medical staffer as I am once again fighting off the spins!  The guy grabs me and walks me through the finisher’s area asking me if I want a wheel chair or to get an IV and I kindly brush him off and ask him to just walk with me to get some ice, water and anything to eat.  I was just hoping that the fact that I was no longer running would allow things to settle nicely in my stomach, which it fortunately did. 

Humbled & Happy:

Now, with it all said and done, I have to admit that this race may have been my finest moment as a runner.  Gross?  Yes.  Absolutely humbling?  For sure.  But, I can’t help be feel an incredible sense of pride in the fact that regardless of how many times I wanted to quit and how much it hurt I didn’t.  I fought tooth and nail for everything on 10/10/10 and managed to pull something off that under the circumstances I didn’t think I could. 

In addition to that, I have to give major shout outs to the Team Sasquatch runners that also participated in the Chicago Marathon and did this coach proud: Suman (@runnrgrl), Lisa (@bemadthen), Andrea French (@drefrench), Maddy Hubbard (@maddyhubba), and Steph (@bkcalamity – part of the Tu/Th Crew).  You were all amazing and I am so proud of what you all did!! I would also like to congratulate and give a shout out to some of the other Tweeps I had the honor of finally meeting: my PiC Samantha (@skdickey), @Diva_Marci, @MikeMoore924, @MissBojana, @LadySuann, @RunningCouple, @CrossFitRox, @Jenn_if_er, @Chathana, @DrewVoo, @OnTheWineRoute, @MLindzy, @RunnerNavyMom, and @TinyJenna.

Speedy Sasquatch & The Last Crusade

In the beginning, the running shoe was the simplest piece of athletic footwear, you just slipped it on without thinking about anything at all, went out the door and ran. Well, those days are long since gone and what we are seeing now is that running shoes are now one of the most technically distinct, diverse, and talked about. Seriously, runners are starting to be as bad as friggin’ Roadies and their bike porn! Everyone checking out each other’s feet, seeing what brand, model and color scheme they’re rockin’ and giving their two-cents. I mean it’s like going to buy a car, something I haven’t done in over a decade, but the analogy still works!

First you have your traditional Gas Guzzlers – solid, traditional construction and design – from all the big names: Nike, Adidas, Asics, Brooks, Mizuno, Saucony, and New Balance. If you’re looking for something a little more modern in terms of design, technology and efficiency you’ve got your alternative fuel/clean diesel edition with the Newtons. Then there are those that have gotten so fed up with the shoe market and all the choices that are out there that they won’t even waste their money shoes! These proud purists have gone back to their hunter gatherer roots and are running barefoot like our centuries old ancestors! Don’t worry though, if you’re not quite ready to give up your gas guzzlers and let your bare skin meet the icky road or trail, but are intrigued by the current barefoot movement there is an intermediary step that can be taken with a hybrid model … the Vibram FiveFingers.

Now that being said, I have nothing against any of these shoe manufacturers or their products. Each of us is built completely differently and as such there are merits and shortcomings that exist with any shoe, or lack thereof, that we choose to run in.



But what is one to do when you walk into your local running store and see all the choices that exist? This is not something that solely strikes the newbie, but one that even experienced runners are facing with greater frequency, because, just as with computers, the technology is advancing at an uncanny rate and the number of new brands and products that are hitting the market is remarkable. So, here we stand gazing at the wall, the questions are endless, the options ever expanding, and our confusion exponentially increasing. The quest to find the best running shoe for you now rivals that of the Holy Grail … the Last Crusade!

For the sheer awesomeness of it, I’ll be drawing a parallel to the last REAL Indiana Jones movie … you know, the one with Sean Connery! Anyway, at the end of the film Indy enters the cave of the knight and is surrounded by countless cups, goblets and chalices ranging from gaudily ornate to the most basic receptacle, and a choice has to be made. The strongest and bravest of the knights that had set across the desert to protect the grail reminds Indy to “Choose. But choose wisely, for while the true Grail will bring you life, the false Grail will take it from you.” And, like Indy, we are left with the same difficult choice as we stare inquisitively at the brands, models, styles and colors so seductively displayed before us at our local running store. We must choose, but choose wisely, for the true shoe will keep us healthy, happy and strong and a false one will strip it from us.

So how DO we know? Can we know with any sort of certainty whilst in the store? The honest answer is, No. But, there are ways to reduce the variables and make things a little easier during the selection process.

1. Location, Location, Location: Go to a store that is dedicated to the sport, rather than to a sporting goods store. You want to go somewhere where the staff is experienced, knowledgeable and, this is a big plus, can do a gait analysis on the spot so they have a clear picture of how you run. Another good thing to clue you into a good store is if they have their own running team or organize their own training runs and clinics.

2. Be Prepared: This sounds a little silly and ridiculous, but this is something that helps me with my runners, bring your current/last pair of running shoes with you to the store. Why? In addition to giving salesperson the make and model of what you have been wearing, which people can tend to forget, they can also examine the compression and wear pattern on the soles to see how you run and how old/how many miles you are putting on them. This is particularly helpful in cases where stores do not do on-site gait analysis.

3. Function Before Fabulous: If you are like me at all, and I know that there are a ton of us out there, color is a HUGE attractor in running shoes. Over the years I have gotten more and more jaded due to the fact that the models I wear traditional have come in a base white with red or blue accents, which have alternated each model season. Boring!! I’ve tried other prettier shoes that have more fun color schemes and have had horrible results, because they simply are NOT the correct shoes for me to be wearing. Shoe manufacturers are becoming more aware of this and are making strides; so just hang on if your shoe hasn’t quite caught up with the color schemes yet.

4. Learn to Crawl Before You Run: Before I say anything on this topic, I just want to be clear that I have nothing against either Newton or Vibram FiveFingers at all. In fact, I have enjoyed seeing the amazing results that people have achieved in their footwear and have nothing bad to say about either of them. When it comes to some of these newer brands and technologies, such as Newton and Vibram FiveFingers, understand that these are not shoes to just slip on and run in everyday right away. Both types of shoes require you to integrate them into your running regiment slowly, alternating them with a traditional pair of shoes until your muscles are ready, then you get to incrementally add on the miles.

All of that being said, I have one final point to make regarding all of this and it is quite simply this: FORM TRUMPS ALL. When I started training, like really training, my running form was fair at best. I went through every brand of shoe trying to find one that could handle the miles and didn’t kill my feet and legs, but basically just winged it from the get go. Then working with my coach I focused less on what I was wearing on my feet and more on improving my form, shifting my foot strike, and finding my true stride. As I worked on my form more and more I needed less and less shoe, starting with near corrective footwear in the Brooks Beast, working into the Asics Kayano, the Under Armour Revenant, Asics DS Trainers, and now onto the Brooks Ravenna. 

Is Form the be-all end-all answer to the question? No, it isn’t, because there are certainly situations where people have issues with their feet and need very specific shoes and/or insoles. Furthermore, I don't claim to be the foremost authority on the subject, but from my experience and extensive observation of all of my own runners this is where the most gains are made.  Really focusing on form and technique before every run (via plyometric drills as a warm-up) and during your maintenance/recovery runs you will start to see and feel improvement. As you gain greater efficiency you’ll feel lighter on your feet, be able to go farther without feeling as worn, and your pace will naturally become quicker. This is something that is pretty easy to implement and maintain once you start doing it and the second the results come it’s even easier!

So runners, next time you go to your local running store be prepared and choose wisely! The roads and trails are out there waiting for you!

The Sasquatch vs. The Fly: 10K Main Event

T’was a week ago this Saturday

A most beautiful morning I have to say

One perfect to run a blistering pace

With a sinister smile upon my face

During the Healthy Kidney 10k.

I was sure that I would dominate the whole way

Sprinting up hills while others just faded away

But as it would be

Something happened to me

And this wasn’t to be my day.

All was well during miles 1 to 3

Unleashing my legs and setting them free

Laying waste to the Central Park course

Like an unstoppable Sasquatchian force

But what happened next who could foresee.

Then somewhere between miles 3 and 4

I was assaulted by something I now abhor

T’was a tiny, insignificant little fly

One that my eye simply couldn’t spy

And, yes, you could say I’m a bit sore.

The little bastard turned kamikaze

And proceeded to fly directly at me

Steadily running 6:15s heading south

He took aim at my open mouth

And proceeded to exercise its hostility.

WHAM! A direct hit!

And my body was thrown into a fit

I began to dry heave and gag

Doubled over, I began to sag

Firing off round after round of spit.

To the man looking at me with a curious eye

I pointed to my mouth gasping, “Fly!”

He had no idea what I was saying

With the grotesqueness I was displaying

Which is too bad cause I felt like I could die!

Once I pulled myself together

It was time to decide whether

I should fight to regain my goal

The one the fly so villainously stole

Or if I had reached the end of my tether.

It was impossible to deny

The efficacy of the fly

And his attack on me

Which quite obviously

Made my body completely fry.

As I fought to regain my previous pace

I was then forced to face

The inevitable truth of the matter

That my stride could get no flatter

And this was not going to be my race.

My body felt totally tapped

My race plan completely scrapped

But I battled on right through the finish line

Cursing the fly’s damn bee-line

Still feeling like complete crap.

I finished in 40:41

But my work was far from done

As I turned back onto the course

Cheering a tour de force

Enjoying this fun in the sun.

So what does one learn from such a tale

Of running bliss, despite the fail

To always keep a watchful eye

For the next errant, vindictive fly

And its overwhelming desire to assail!

Taperworm Infection (Restoidea)

We’ve heard of the great running myths and legends: the Runner’s High, the Second Wind, the Wall, but there is one such legend that is talked about more than all of those combined. A nefarious (thank you for bringing that word back into my vocabulary Chris Russell!), mythical creature that feeds on each and every runner at the end of their training season, laying dormant until all of the hard work is done and only their A-race is left to complete. I am of course speaking of that vile parasite, the Taperworm.

It is a truly strange, natural phenomenon runners endure in the last 2-3 weeks (depending on your plan) before their race, but the symptoms of the Taperworm infection are well documented and nearly impossible to avoid. The Taperworm not only affects you physically, but mentally as well, often times with both working in concert to create a diabolical situation that seems insurmountable. Fear not, my friends, there is a very basic treatment to help you survive this infection, which simply takes an open mind, a firm hand, and a little will power … ok, maybe not a firm hand, but you can overcome that pesky little worm whispering to you all the time!

The Taperworm Says:

‘Boom-baba-boom-baba-boom’: With respect to physical symptoms, one of the most difficult to deal with, especially for this Sasquatch, is what I like to call ‘The Olive Garden Syndrome.’ Ah, yes! A deliciously devious affliction where you are constantly carb craving and the thought of the ‘Never-Ending Pasta Bowl’ is tempting like sweet, sweet ambrosia, or at the very least a bowl full of Cadbury Mini-Eggs! Seriously, I am not a big guy, but when taper hits I have an appetite like ‘Lardass’ of Stand By Me fame. So what are you supposed to do food-wise when you go all Pringle-y, where you pop and can’t stop? Honestly, you don’t change much at all. During your training, hopefully, you have maintained a good, balanced, healthy diet rich in clean burning fuels, which should continue just as it has, but rather than going for that extra helping of everything you just have one good-sized plate. Maintain reasonable portion sizes and don’t get caught up in the carbo-loading excitement that you hear so much about and may even feel. But, if you are as spastic as I am, look into modified house wares that are sure to make you a hit at you’re your pre-marathon dinner party and make you the envy of all your friends.

‘No Fat Chicks’: Working hand-in-hand with the carb craving comes the irritation and lament of weight gain. Ladies, and gents (just to be fair), take a deep breath, put down your copy of whatever supermarket rag is currently boasting ‘How to Lose 10 lbs in 10-minutes, like whatever worthless celebrity’, because it is NOT for you. Let me be crystal clear about this, you WILL put on a little weight during your taper. OK, one more time for the cheap seats, this is a FACT, you will gain a little weight! During your taper you are going to want to hydrate properly - not so much that you are in the bathroom every 10-15 minutes - and in the process of doing so you will retain some water weight, but it is NOTHING to get bent out of shape about. It passes … yes, that was meant to be literal and a little gross.

‘This Can’t Be Happening’: There are a couple ‘Oh Sh*t!’ symptoms that manifest physically and eat you alive mentally during taper, which surely need to be addressed. First, lead legs. This particular gem is nothing new to ANY runner, but is one that always seems paradoxical during a taper. You’re just running along, your pace is a little slower, your miles a little shorter and your legs a little heavier?! What the hell?! I mean seriously, shouldn’t I feel stronger?! It is perfectly natural though. During taper your body does a little self-maintenance, some nice tissue repair, taking on more carbs and water than it had previously, and the result of which is your legs feeling a little heavier. Totally sucks, but it doesn’t linger. This situation is further complicated by the fact you may end up having all these little aches and pains, which can be attributed to your body healing itself. These pesky, taunting twinges may start out as nothing, but with aid of the Taperworm your head will blow the sucker out of proportion and turn it into career ending injury the likes of which would only be seen in Saw movies. So, in the words of Public Enemy, “Don’t believe the hype!”  RELAX, get out of your head, and remember everyone goes through it!

‘Bring It On’: As in all things there is a flipside to the aforementioned dumpy, lead legged, achy feeling, which is the, ‘I feel so good right now that I could dominate this race on one leg, hands tied behind my back, mouth sewn shut, eyes spooned out, streaking from the quad to the gymnasium!’ This is a tough one though, so do NOT fall victim to this feeling of pace and power during taper! You want to use this time to heal, fine tune and let your body rest up after months of heavy training so that when it comes time to toe the line you are fresh, fearless and focused. Stick to your plan. Keep the miles low, bring the pace down, work on your form, and just focus on the fact that you ready for this. I know, easier said than done, because that feeling the first day you go out and you do have that little extra spring in your step it’s like the first day you drove by yourself, you want to see what it feels like to break the speed limit! There is a time and a place for that, but it is not now.

‘When Is Enough Enough?’: The last and, perhaps, most difficult symptom to overcome is the paranoia. It is one of the cruel and destabilizing feelings that we have to learn to deal with, not only as runners, but also in our lives beyond the racecourse. That damned worm is in there all the while, making you all edgy as it whispers the questions to the back of your mind: Did I get in enough miles? Should I try and squeeze another longer run in? Did I do too many? Are my legs going to hold up? What if I don’t hit my goal time? What if the weather is terrible? What if I am late to the start? What if I forget my chip? What if I can’t find my shoes? What if I see a Sasquatch on the course? These are all perfectly valid questions, BUT they don’t matter at all at this point. There is nothing you can do in those last weeks that will make you any stronger or faster on race day that would really be noticeable, other than maybe being a little more fatigued. When you hear that little voice you have to tell it to piss off and just let it go. This is the moment when you need to be all sorts of Stuart Smalley. The best thing you can do for yourself is to maintain a positive frame of mind. Remind yourself of all the work that you have done to get to this point, trusting in that process. Remember your reason for going out and doing this, the cause that you’re supporting. Think about the people who have supported you through it all and friends that you have made along the way. But, most importantly, remember that this is YOUR race. There is no one else out there that is going to do it for you and it is YOUR moment to relish.

Here are a few other tips for surviving a Taperworm Infection:

• Spend more time with your family. You’ve inevitably lost countless hours due to training runs, this is the time to show them how much you appreciate their understanding and try and bring them into your excitement.
• Make your list and check it twice. Compile a checklist of everything you will need for your race (Before, During & After): food, clothing starting with the night before through the end of your race. Have a bag, box or area where you are keeping everything race day. Being confident in your preparedness takes some of the edge off.
• When you do run during taper, run with a partner or group. By having someone else alongside you to talk with it is much easier to distract yourself from it all even if you are talking about your race. It is relaxing to have someone to bounce things off of.
• Running a marathon is EASY, don't over complicate it, just ask Barney:

To The Pain

The fall marathon season is now closed, many a runner is nursing their aches, illness and fatigue and “now is the winter of our discontent.” The streets and trails are mottled with breathy hisses and moans of discomfort, but the subtext is wrought with hope and aspirations for the spring season. Sick? Perhaps. Psychotic? More than likely. Music to my ears? Most definitely. But what about those painful sounds that still linger in the arctic breezes that we are all blessed with these days. What about the pain and discomfort? When is it more than just an ache? What is the dividing line between soreness, pain and injury? When is it time to stop? This is THE most difficult question to ask a runner … well, that and why we do this in the first place, but that is beside the point … at what point do we need to just stop?

You may ask why this is such a difficult question to answer, and it is quite simply because there is no clearly defined answer. No set of rules or indicators that can give you a finite answer that either explains what is going on, how far we can push, how much we can take, at what point does this pain become something more than serious? These are all questions that the little voice whispering to us as we turn our feet over and we start to hyper focus on every twinge from toe to IT band. So what can we do? How do you know what to do when those whispers are no longer whispers anymore?



Rule #1: If your gait changes at any point STOP.

One of the great deceivers in the running World is the compensation injury. You trip or step on something that puts you out of alignment. It hurts, but not enough to make you stop, but your stride is a little off, not a lot, but still noticeable and you keep going. Next day you wake up, lace’m up and hit the road only to notice that you are really sore not where you had your little digger, but someplace completely different. That is the EVIL of the compensation injury. You alter yourself just enough to make it through your race or run and then are a mess the next day, because other body parts had to pick up the slack so you didn’t work that spot you originally hurt.

Is there a time and a place to fight through something like that? Sure, but you, as a runner, need to understand the consequences of pushing through it. I know that 90% of the people reading this would fight through something like the aforementioned incident for a Boston Qualifying time. Hell, I’ve even done it! But, when it was over I wasn’t even able to run Boston that year, because I couldn’t shake the compensation injury and had to defer. When you get to these moments, and you will, understand the cost and consequences before you take on that next mile.

Rule #2: Never, and I mean NEVER, mess with the major joints: knees and ankles.

At RAGNAR New York I stepped on a bad piece of pavement during my overnight 13-mile leg of the relay and rolled my ankle really badly. I fought off the roll with only a few miles to go and finished the leg, but that didn’t come without a price, as I was unable to complete the race like I wanted to. At RAGNAR New England I illustrated what my father would call “the flat learning curve,” as I once again rolled that same ankle and tried to fight through it only to have the pain trace up into my right knee and hamstring, which has, more or less, sidelined me up until the last month or so. During that time I have simply let it rest and recuperate while working on strengthening the problem areas. It sucks and I hate it, but I know that if I want to be back and running like I was at my peak I can’t mess with this plan at all. Not even for one run, because that is all it takes to regress back into that mess.

Rule #3: Know your limits.

This rule is a little hazier than the other two, but it is no less valuable. We all have limits and barriers that we can test and stretch and to see our true potential we need to know what they feel like. That is the beauty of lunges, squats, speed intervals, hills, mile repeats, gauntlet track workouts, and all of those other training runs that we have come to love and adore, like that Grandmother that smells like moth balls and kisses you leaving a nasty lipstick mark, but always gives the great Christmas and birthday presents … can’t help but love them! The process may suck but the prize at the end kicks serious butt.

Training exercises and runs, like the ones I described above, are notorious for aches, pains, fried lungs, vomiting, exhaustion, and grievous muscle fatigue, but this is NOT the same as the pains of Rule #1 & #2. These are growing pains, your body simply reminding you that you haven’t reached your full potential yet and that there is more work to be done. Do we see incidents of Rule #1 & #2 in training? Absolutely. Sh*t happens. If either of those situations were to arise during a training run, you bail right away. No training run is worth being sidelined for any stretch of time, and as my coach always told me, “missing one run isn’t going to make or break your training season.”

When it comes to a runner’s body, the corporeal is always playing second fiddle to the mind. As I’ve said before, and I am sure I will say it again, running is 70% in your head and 30% in your body. When you are out there you have to listen to your body, hear what it is telling you and know what it means. I haven’t been the best listener over the last 2 years and I have suffered for it, but no more. If you have questions reach out to the running community, ask me if you like (just leave a comment), but we are all here together and are all pulling for one another to succeed.

Why Oh Why Do We Do This?

It is the question to end ALL questions: Why? People look for answers in all facets of life, but none are looked at with more skepticism, disbelief and rolled-eye inquisitiveness than that of the endurance athlete. We few, we happy few, we band of brothers (and sisters – sorry William, the ladies rock!) are constantly asked why it is we do what we do and, to be completely honest, I typically hear two or three answers: 1) the bucket list approach; 2) the thrill of competition; 3) the Life cereal approach – I like it. I really like it! They are both valid answers, but there is always something more to it than that. Something else that drives us to take a pass at sleeping in on the weekends in favor of a long run and puts us to bed early on “date nights” to race the next day. This past year I had one runner in particular help bring this into focus for me, my reason for running, training and pushing myself every week.

I met Hannah some time ago through a mutual acquaintance with the understanding that she wanted to train for her first marathon and run it in under four hours, but needed some guidance along the way. Of course I said yes and immediately got started designing the framework for her plan. She had done a few halves, but had never gone any farther than 13 miles, so I knew that it would take some time to get things up to speed. Hannah took to the training amazingly well, even amidst a few minor injury setbacks, getting stronger all the time. Then about two-thirds of the way into everything a bomb dropped.

Hannah got a call from her family telling her that her father, a marathoner himself who was going to be running with her, was diagnosed with ALS (Lou Gherig’s Disease) and was not only going to be incapable of running the race with her, but would in all likelihood not be going to Vermont at all. Now, most people rocked with news like that are rattled to their very core and Hannah was, but rather than having this news quell her spirit she took it and used it as motivation. Within the span of a few days she stayed on-track with our program, set-up fundraising for ALS research in her father’s name and had exhibited more heart, drive and determination to hit her mark for father than most of the elites do.

When the time came, Hannah hit her mark in Vermont and did so with a surprise visit from her father on the course, showing her how truly amazing the human spirit is. I remember getting the call from her and the pain, pride and utter happiness that was in her voice as she professed her success and how much it meant to her to have her father there for it.

Have I got ya thinkin’ yet?

When I thought back on those 18-weeks and that one perfect day on the course for Hannah it churned up a lot that I had not thought about in some time. Like Hannah and most everyone, I suppose, I do what I do for my parents. My father, the do-everything man, is one of the major reasons I got into coaching and much of what I have in terms of skill working with people is derived from him. A thunderclap of a rumbling voice, a kind, gentle hand, and one of the most insanely brilliant logical minds I have ever come across with a clean, simple love for the purity of sport. He has coached soccer for over 25 years, the majority of those years training teams that did not feature any of his own children, and has never asked for a dime in doing so. He loves the game, his teams and has only ever wanted to help each and every player become a better athlete and inspire them as individuals. As I write this, he is probably preparing food stores for his annual trip to Emmaus House with his players to make Thanksgiving dinner for those less fortunate, something that I have had the honor of being a part of over the years. He is a remarkable man that I strive to emulate each day of my life and can only hope to leave as profound a footprint as he has on the lives of so many of his athletes.


My mother is not an athlete, nor does she feign to be, although there are those of us who think she should go to the Olympics for power walking … the woman is like a serial killer in a horror movie, no matter how fast you go she always seems to catch you. Regardless of her lack of athleticism she is tougher than any endurance athlete you will ever encounter. She has stared down the demon that is breast cancer twice and has smote it both times. Soft spoken, sweet, and powerful in spirit and words, a talent that has inspired me, she has always shown me the way to live my life, embracing every breath with warm, loving arms and keeping your mind focused on what is good in this World and what you can do to help make it better one individual at a time. She is selfless, almost to a fault, and wholly and freely opens her heart to those in need and only ever asks for them to pay it forward and help someone else in their time of need. It is the rhythm of her heart that beats so powerfully within my own every time I lace them up.


Why do I run? I run for them. I run for my father who is the man who is everything I strive to be. I run to inspire my runners, leading by example, as he has done for me from day one. I run for my mother whose strength and enormous heart fuels these words and whose strength in spirit drives me everyday to be more than I am. I run for my brother and sister who think I am totally insane for running any more than five miles at a time and yet constantly remind me how amazing and important it is to have them as part of my support system. I run for my runners, because I know no other way than to lead by example and give them everything that I am everyday no matter what it is they need, whether it is running advice, saying the right words, or just the comfort of knowing that they are NEVER alone. Lastly, I run for you, who are kind enough to read this long post, and the hope that I have inspired you in some way with this to think about why you lace up your trainers each day and the footprint you leave behind.

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone.

The 3 Ps of the Marathon Virgin

The Chicago Marathon has come and gone and the fall marathon season is in full swing. Every week more and more runners will lose their marathon virginity and much like that first time, they are nervous, edgy, excited, panicky, freaked and frustrated. With that in mind, everyone take a nice deep breath, hold it for a count of five … exhale … and RELAX!!!!! Remember, this is supposed to be FUN! I know, not quite the ‘F’ word most people associate with running a marathon, but, honestly, it really is Fun!

So, for all you newbies out there that are getting amp’d up for their big day, here are my three-Ps to a primo first 26.2!



Patience:
This applies to couple of areas. First, for the last 2-3 weeks you have been tapering, reducing your weekly mileage and gearing up for the big day, remember to be PATIENT during that time. Trust in your plan. Don’t get all jived because your runs are short, slow and simple. They are designed to be that way. The leading cause of injury and DNFs (Did Not Finish) in marathoners is overtraining. The reduced miles and slower paces are there to help your body recover and be fresh for race day so you can put forth your best effort possible. It also helps reduce the possibility of getting injured. If you are really having a hard time settling into it, reach out to someone who HAS done a marathon, – coach, friend, teammate, Tweep – and let them help you get grounded. It is better to be a little undertrained and fresh than to be overtrained and fatigued.

Secondly, when you do get to the starting line and you are in the swarm of your corral waiting to cross the starting line and hammer this thing out, be PATIENT out the gate. It is an amazing adrenaline rush in that moment when the gun goes off, you're ready to tear the course up and you end up going out a full two-minutes per mile faster to start out ... Oops! I know you have all heard of ‘the Wall’, right? Well, if you get caught up in the thrill of the chase at the start I can promise you that you will have some serious face time with him when you get to that region around 17-19 miles in. The introduction will be quick and then he’ll ask you if he can hang around for a while and I can assure you he will. First time out, hit the wall so hard I was practically in tears, it was unbelievable and yet completely avoidable. Here’s a tip to help those of you that are like me and love to blow the doors off early, stand in the very back of your corral. Let the swarm build in front of you all but ensuring for a slow handful of miles at the start and allowing you to ease into the race properly. It sucks and can be frustrating, but the benefits are felt later on as you realize you still have a lot in the tank and you have passed a quarter of a million people on the course!

Plan/Prepare:
Getting ready for the marathon is like getting ready for a family trip overseas, the more you plan and prepare everything the easier it is on you. For ridiculous travelers like myself, who are always early, have back-ups for everything and are just otherwise nervy and paranoid, a marathon checklist is the way to go! Presumably you’ve been rehearsing for race day morning with every long run that you have had, fine tuning your routine until it is on cruise control. The less you have to think about the better, ease the stress! Here is the breakdown I use for my checklist:

- Pre-Race Clothing (All depending on Temperature): Throw away clothes to wear in the corral, Blanket/Card board to sit on, etc.
- Nutrition & Hydration: Pre, During, and Post Race.
- Race Wear: singlet, shorts, socks, calf & arm sleeves, sunglasses, sunscreen, body glide, arm sleeves, etc. Prepare for all contingencies.
- Post Race clothing: Sweats! You will feel a little chilled at the end from dehydration and from sweating a lot, so be prepared and have a towel and loose fitting clothing to change into.

One other situation you need to prepare and plan for is your goal(s). This is more important psychologically speaking. The marathon is a real test of wills and if you have problems with the first ‘P’ you can have a really hard time hitting a time goal, especially if it is a lofty time goal. For your first time out, make things simple, have three goals in mind: Achievable, Within Reach, and a Lofty. My first marathon I did this and it served me well: Finish without walking, 3:30 or better, Boston Qualify. I ended up walking thanks to a moron that I ran behind, which caused my hamstring to knot, but I still finished in 3:26. Next time around it was: Finish Injury Free, Finish under 3:26, Boston Qualify. The second time I hit 3:07 and hit the lofty goal, learning from the mistakes I made the first time around.

Present:
This doesn’t mean go buy yourself a Garmin! I mean be present for the entire day! Live in the moment. Forget about everything else and savour every nuance of this amazing achievement. This is a feat that you have undertaken the likes of which a relative few can even fathom. 26.2 miles of running in one day!! You trained for this moment for months in whatever conditions Mother Nature felt like throwing at you, pushing your body to its limits with your lungs burning, sweat pouring, blisters swelling and you willingly did it day after day to get to this one moment. Keep all that you have toiled over in perspective as you soak it all in. The long runs. The shin splints. The countless disgusting gelatinous supplements. The friday nights given up for more sleep for long runs on saturday mornings! Coffee not first thing in the morning, but only AFTER you put your miles in. All of that to be revered by crowds of cheering people with music playing, your name screamed, doing what you even thought at one time was unthinkable … it is simply GLORIOUS!!!! It is your moment. One that you will relish and relive every time anyone asks about it. You become immortal!



Newbies, go forth and dominate! Live, breathe and amaze the World! Good Luck!!

A Few Other Tips for Race Day:

- Do NOT try anything new. Keep things the way you have trained. Little alterations can have a big effect in a long race like this.
- Have your name on the front of your shirt … the crowd calling your name will give you that added push when you need it!
- Dress as if 10-15 degrees warmer than it is. Once on the course for a while you will feel like you are on fire OR wear pieces you can peel off (arm sleeves, beanie, gloves, etc.).
- Don’t break rhythm. When you go to a water stop, don’t stop shuffling your feet in rhythm; keep them going because you use a lot of energy just getting them going again.

For more tips hit me up on twitter or leave a comment and I will be sure to address it.