Last night's planned five-miler was more like a six-miler because of where I had to park my car to access the Buckeye Trail. The run served to reboot my marathon training after a false start last week, as well as a testing environment for my body. Here are my field notes:
A Study of Wounded Knee
Still feeling the pain from Sunday's kneecapping, the "Hill Challenge" proved to be a tough test for my injury.
Cause: Kicked bedframe
Effect: Slowed stride; pain from heel strikes and descents
Notes: The knee experienced pain throughout the run, but it was only unbearable when there seemed to be forces pushing my leg forward, such as from overstriding, or when going downhill. Not being able to move my left leg as quickly as normal, scatter stepping was impossible. The slowed pace downhill forced the knee to take on too much supporting weight, and thus walking was much more preferable. Interestingly, the average pace for this run was a decent 12:51 per mile. (My previous effort was 12:37 per mile at 5.1 miles vs. 5.7 miles this go around.)
Fall of the House of Viper
My "not falling" boast has caught up to me.
Cause: Slow left knee lift; roots
Effect: Right palm plant
Notes: My superior balance could not stop me from tumbling forward in the "Pine Lane," where numerous roots form a latticework of tripping hazards. Not being able to lift my left knee quickly or put too much weight on that leg caused me to fall when my right toe caught a root. No serious damage, except to ego.
Beta Testing B Vitamins
Awhile back Bob at Ahcuah wrote about how B vitamins help repel insects. He suggests taking three B-100s per hour, and the resulting sweat will keep the bugs away.
Cause: Three B-100s five minutes before start
Effect: Decrease in pesky insects; vibrant yellow urine
Notes: The first half-mile didn't show much difference than past trail runs, but after that the bugs seemed to disappear. This was even after some big storms rolled through the region Monday. Not once did anything fly into my hair, which usually happens about 433,529 times otherwise. Beta test No. 1: success.
My knee still hurts, but it's getting better and it running on it didn't make it feel any worse. However, a bruise still hasn't appeared after three days, which is a surprise considering the bump that surfaced directly after impact.
Showing posts with label hills of wanton and sorrow. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hills of wanton and sorrow. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Coyotes, Deer, Pteranodons and Fear
Not long into a five-mile trail run last night did there appear the first warning signs. Yes, it was hot, and the water was going fast. Yes, the blue skies had turned to ominous clouds. But the warning signs were in fact actual warning signs: for coyotes.
The first one was on the sign post for the first time the Plateau Trail forks off from the Oak Hill Trail, which was the setting for the Dirty Dash 10K in March. The sign read, "Warning. Coyote Denning Activities in the Area. Beware of Aggressive Behavior. If you encounter aggressive behavior, leave the area immediately and call 1-800-EEK-GTFO!"
At the next fork, where the Plateau Trail splits off to that huge hill, there was another sign. This time it wasn't taped to the trail marker, but planted on its own stick in the middle of the trail. Was this meant to say, "We're serious. If you go this way, you'll be eaten by coyotes"?
I hoped not, because that's where I was headed.
The paranoia crept in. Every sound in the woods was a coyote advancing to attack. The pups had to be protected from bearded intruders. Visions of gnashed teeth and severed Achilles tendons plagued my thoughts.
My eyes darted from side to side at each rustle of leaves. Those cursed squirrels were toying with me. Then, a broken twig. Something much larger. Oh lord, this is it. My end.
Thank goodness! It was just a deer. Ahead, a young buck galloped away from the trail. But wait! Was he fleeing from a rabid coyote?
The trail started its descent. Suddenly, my head was a target for a dive-bombing, winged bug the size of a Pteranodon, swooping around my noggin, and buzzing the tower mercilessly.
"I don't know karate, you fiend, but I know crazy," I mumbled to the flying beast. Thankfully, no one was around to see me stumbling and swatting like a mental defective.
Where the trail makes a hairpin turn and the big downhill becomes a big uphill, there was another warning sign planted on a stick in the middle of the trail instead of the marker post, confirming my fear that I probably should have been eaten by coyotes.
The Pteranodon left me alone for a while, but returned periodically to make sure I knew who's boss.
My legs dropped into Granny Gear for the long incline, allowing me to trudge on without succumbing to a walk.
My continued focus on running easy allowed me to feel strong throughout the run, and my lack of walk breaks helped me break out of my 13-minute mile pace slump with an average of 11:58 per mile.
As it turned out my fears were unwarranted. My water supply lasted throughout the run. Those clouds never broke. And I never did see a coyote. The bugs and squirrels were more menacing than anything else.
The first one was on the sign post for the first time the Plateau Trail forks off from the Oak Hill Trail, which was the setting for the Dirty Dash 10K in March. The sign read, "Warning. Coyote Denning Activities in the Area. Beware of Aggressive Behavior. If you encounter aggressive behavior, leave the area immediately and call 1-800-EEK-GTFO!"
At the next fork, where the Plateau Trail splits off to that huge hill, there was another sign. This time it wasn't taped to the trail marker, but planted on its own stick in the middle of the trail. Was this meant to say, "We're serious. If you go this way, you'll be eaten by coyotes"?
I hoped not, because that's where I was headed.
The paranoia crept in. Every sound in the woods was a coyote advancing to attack. The pups had to be protected from bearded intruders. Visions of gnashed teeth and severed Achilles tendons plagued my thoughts.
My eyes darted from side to side at each rustle of leaves. Those cursed squirrels were toying with me. Then, a broken twig. Something much larger. Oh lord, this is it. My end.
Thank goodness! It was just a deer. Ahead, a young buck galloped away from the trail. But wait! Was he fleeing from a rabid coyote?
 |
| Source: Wiki Prehistorica |
"I don't know karate, you fiend, but I know crazy," I mumbled to the flying beast. Thankfully, no one was around to see me stumbling and swatting like a mental defective.
Where the trail makes a hairpin turn and the big downhill becomes a big uphill, there was another warning sign planted on a stick in the middle of the trail instead of the marker post, confirming my fear that I probably should have been eaten by coyotes.
The Pteranodon left me alone for a while, but returned periodically to make sure I knew who's boss.
My legs dropped into Granny Gear for the long incline, allowing me to trudge on without succumbing to a walk.
My continued focus on running easy allowed me to feel strong throughout the run, and my lack of walk breaks helped me break out of my 13-minute mile pace slump with an average of 11:58 per mile.
As it turned out my fears were unwarranted. My water supply lasted throughout the run. Those clouds never broke. And I never did see a coyote. The bugs and squirrels were more menacing than anything else.
Friday, April 27, 2012
Flashback Friday: Hill Challenge
There's this local trail running group that runs every Thursday night at 6:30. Each week's run is posted on Facebook beforehand.
While I "Like" the group, I have never actually run with them, as their meeting time is totally inconvenient, considering they run about five minutes away from my office but an hour and a half after I get off of work. So instead, I poach their runs and go by myself.
I'm like the lone wolf of the wolf pack.
Last night, the group run was the "Hill Challenge," a five-mile loop from the Lock 29 trailhead in Peninsula to the Buckeye Trail and Valley Bridle Trail.
The route was comprised of four tough climbs, starting with what they call "Initiation Hill," which climbs about 180 feet over the course of a mile. The remaining hills weren't as long as the first hill, but they were much steeper, culminating in the final "Graduation Hill," which finally reduced me to a walk as it climbed about a trillion feet in a third of a mile, over tree roots and high log-steps, which DO NOT make life easier.
And on top of that, I peed myself.
Not while running, mind you, but at the Pine Lane trailhead, which was the top of the third climb. In the parking lot is a unisex bathroom, which uses solar power to light the inside, but because there's no sunlight in Northeast Ohio it was like peeing in the hazy red light of a darkroom. I emerged from the piss hut with a dribble down my right leg. See, it's a good thing I run alone.
Don't judge me. You've peed yourself too. And if you haven't, you will.
I hoped against hope that the rain would pick up and conceal my errant urination, but alas it held off until I got back to my car. I finished the Hill Challenge with a 12:37 mile pace, logging my fourth trail run in a row. My pre-training plan has gone out the window this week, running instead by how I feel. So far, so good.
Back Talk
Wherein we discuss yard work
Sun Runner recognizes that my lawn mowing isn't floundering: "How is the reel mower working for you?"
Answer: I feel so grown up (minus that whole peeing incident) with my first lawnmower. I bought a Husqvarna Evolution reel mower, and so far really enjoy using it. The first day, I rammed it into a bump in my lawn and had to learn how to adjust the blades, and then had to make several passes to take care of some of the very deep grass. But now a double-pass seems to do the trick. It's quiet. I bought a fairly high-end mower for the price of a low-end motorized unit, and I don't have to pay for gas. It'll probably pay for itself in one season with these gas prices. OK, enough talk about lawn care.
Happy Hour is nearly upon us, teammates. Have a finely brewed weekend. Run well and drink well. Cheers!
While I "Like" the group, I have never actually run with them, as their meeting time is totally inconvenient, considering they run about five minutes away from my office but an hour and a half after I get off of work. So instead, I poach their runs and go by myself.
I'm like the lone wolf of the wolf pack.
Last night, the group run was the "Hill Challenge," a five-mile loop from the Lock 29 trailhead in Peninsula to the Buckeye Trail and Valley Bridle Trail.
The route was comprised of four tough climbs, starting with what they call "Initiation Hill," which climbs about 180 feet over the course of a mile. The remaining hills weren't as long as the first hill, but they were much steeper, culminating in the final "Graduation Hill," which finally reduced me to a walk as it climbed about a trillion feet in a third of a mile, over tree roots and high log-steps, which DO NOT make life easier.
And on top of that, I peed myself.
Not while running, mind you, but at the Pine Lane trailhead, which was the top of the third climb. In the parking lot is a unisex bathroom, which uses solar power to light the inside, but because there's no sunlight in Northeast Ohio it was like peeing in the hazy red light of a darkroom. I emerged from the piss hut with a dribble down my right leg. See, it's a good thing I run alone.
Don't judge me. You've peed yourself too. And if you haven't, you will.
I hoped against hope that the rain would pick up and conceal my errant urination, but alas it held off until I got back to my car. I finished the Hill Challenge with a 12:37 mile pace, logging my fourth trail run in a row. My pre-training plan has gone out the window this week, running instead by how I feel. So far, so good.
Back Talk
Wherein we discuss yard work
Sun Runner recognizes that my lawn mowing isn't floundering: "How is the reel mower working for you?"
Answer: I feel so grown up (minus that whole peeing incident) with my first lawnmower. I bought a Husqvarna Evolution reel mower, and so far really enjoy using it. The first day, I rammed it into a bump in my lawn and had to learn how to adjust the blades, and then had to make several passes to take care of some of the very deep grass. But now a double-pass seems to do the trick. It's quiet. I bought a fairly high-end mower for the price of a low-end motorized unit, and I don't have to pay for gas. It'll probably pay for itself in one season with these gas prices. OK, enough talk about lawn care.
Happy Hour is nearly upon us, teammates. Have a finely brewed weekend. Run well and drink well. Cheers!
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Twilight: The Creeper Sense
Directly after pulling into the hiking trail parking lot, another car -- a black Honda -- followed me, and from the car stepped a man, I'd guess in his upper 40s, with male pattern baldness, and wearing black slacks and a golf shirt with a black, white and gray pattern circa 1990s (my dad has one just like it), and this man lit a cigarette, took out his phone, walked over near the toilet shelters, and leaned against a wooden stanchion.
We are the only two people there.
Being the paranoid sort, this guy starts to bug me, and there I am still sitting in my car trying to decide what to do about this situation. The fighter in me knows I could take him if he attacked me. The flighter says I could easily out run him, which, hey, speed work!
But then, what about my car? What if he's just waiting for me to leave so he can smash my windows, grab my old-time CD collection, and then deflate my tires so he can make his getaway. So I start my car again and leave.
My plan was to hit up the trail, which is just around the corner from my office, and run my three-miler before it got dark. Yesterday was a cloudy day, and it was already kind of dark as I drove away from the creeper.
Instead, I decided to go to Sand Run to run the Mingo trail, where I know the terrain and where it will be populated by other runners and, as Mrs. Viper likes to say, not rapists and murderers.
Fortunately, I brought my head lamp with me, as twilight had descended by the time I started my run. The second half of my run would have been treacherous without a light source to guide me.
Some of the hills were muddy, which the slipperiness made for difficult ascents and nerve-racking descents. I felt an odd twinge behind my left knee and walked a little near the end, but it feels fine today. I blame the awkward footing.
One run down, three to go.
We are the only two people there.
Being the paranoid sort, this guy starts to bug me, and there I am still sitting in my car trying to decide what to do about this situation. The fighter in me knows I could take him if he attacked me. The flighter says I could easily out run him, which, hey, speed work!
But then, what about my car? What if he's just waiting for me to leave so he can smash my windows, grab my old-time CD collection, and then deflate my tires so he can make his getaway. So I start my car again and leave.
My plan was to hit up the trail, which is just around the corner from my office, and run my three-miler before it got dark. Yesterday was a cloudy day, and it was already kind of dark as I drove away from the creeper.
Instead, I decided to go to Sand Run to run the Mingo trail, where I know the terrain and where it will be populated by other runners and, as Mrs. Viper likes to say, not rapists and murderers.
Fortunately, I brought my head lamp with me, as twilight had descended by the time I started my run. The second half of my run would have been treacherous without a light source to guide me.
Some of the hills were muddy, which the slipperiness made for difficult ascents and nerve-racking descents. I felt an odd twinge behind my left knee and walked a little near the end, but it feels fine today. I blame the awkward footing.
One run down, three to go.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
The Heat, the Hills, the Hurdles
My Akron Marathon training plan has been thrown out the window for now. After missing successive long runs the last two weeks, something needed to change. And that something is conventional wisdom.
Although it seems counter-intuitive to scrap a rubric that led to my greatest success as a marathoner last year, my mind and body just aren't adjusting well to the same old, same old schedule of shorter runs during the week with a medium and long runs on the weekend.
Instead, I've arrived at a new kind of plan to build up my mileage with more frequent longish runs, as I build back the strength in my legs that was lost during the long, cold winter. The idea is to run a longish trail run every four days, with short and medium runs between.
Last night, I ran eight miles on the Buckeye Trail, and my intention is to run another eight miles there (or elsewhere) on Friday. But before that, tomorrow morning, I plan to run a short barefoot distance to shake out the legs.
My hope is that by the time I can run the entire eight miles on this trail that I'll have the fitness to pack on the miles. I haven't had much success with consistency so far this year, so we'll see how long this plan lasts.
No Breath
I really like to learn lessons when I run. Last night, I learned two. One, I need to get acclimated to the heat -- it came early this year, as the temperature is 15 degrees above average for this time of year, I'm told. Two, I need to remember how to breathe. My oxygen depletion has been very noticeable for any run beyond three miles. I feel like a 400-lb man stuck in a 170-lb body.
That Barefoot Guy?
Last night, while standing barefoot outside with Dobson, our Old English Sheepdog, who just got his annual sheering, one of my neighbors walked by. He looked over at us, kept walking, paused, turned and said, "Is that the furry dog?"
I had never met this neighbor before, but I had seen him around and knew that he was a runner. He was shocked at how different Dobson looks shaved down.
"It took me a minute to recognize you, too, without the beard," he said. "But then I saw the bare feet and was like, 'Oh, yeah, the barefoot runner guy.'"
Really? Me? That's the first time I've ever been labeled as a barefoot runner. It felt a little awkward. Does this mean I have to call myself "Barefoot Viper" now? That's stupid. Vipers don't have feet.
Although it seems counter-intuitive to scrap a rubric that led to my greatest success as a marathoner last year, my mind and body just aren't adjusting well to the same old, same old schedule of shorter runs during the week with a medium and long runs on the weekend.
Instead, I've arrived at a new kind of plan to build up my mileage with more frequent longish runs, as I build back the strength in my legs that was lost during the long, cold winter. The idea is to run a longish trail run every four days, with short and medium runs between.
Last night, I ran eight miles on the Buckeye Trail, and my intention is to run another eight miles there (or elsewhere) on Friday. But before that, tomorrow morning, I plan to run a short barefoot distance to shake out the legs.
My hope is that by the time I can run the entire eight miles on this trail that I'll have the fitness to pack on the miles. I haven't had much success with consistency so far this year, so we'll see how long this plan lasts.
No Breath
I really like to learn lessons when I run. Last night, I learned two. One, I need to get acclimated to the heat -- it came early this year, as the temperature is 15 degrees above average for this time of year, I'm told. Two, I need to remember how to breathe. My oxygen depletion has been very noticeable for any run beyond three miles. I feel like a 400-lb man stuck in a 170-lb body.
That Barefoot Guy?
Last night, while standing barefoot outside with Dobson, our Old English Sheepdog, who just got his annual sheering, one of my neighbors walked by. He looked over at us, kept walking, paused, turned and said, "Is that the furry dog?"
 |
| Dobson, enjoying the heat with a cooler, new hairdo. |
"It took me a minute to recognize you, too, without the beard," he said. "But then I saw the bare feet and was like, 'Oh, yeah, the barefoot runner guy.'"
Really? Me? That's the first time I've ever been labeled as a barefoot runner. It felt a little awkward. Does this mean I have to call myself "Barefoot Viper" now? That's stupid. Vipers don't have feet.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Muddy Roads
Rain soused the landscape all yesterday morning and the threat of more storms pervaded the afternoon. My trail run was going to be wet any way you sliced it.
Hampton Hills was nearly deserted except for three cars, including my own. Another runner was limbering up as I got out of my car and walked over to the trail to begin my run.
The bottom land of the first third of the run is wet but firm. My feet, wearing Vibrams, glide over the small, rolling hills until the stairs break my momentum. The steep climb serves me a sweet taste of humble pie, as I slow to a walk near the summit of the hill. I turn to survey the trail behind me and vow to reach the top without walking next time.
I emerge from the woods to the meadow at the Top O' the World, the second third of the 3.2-mile Adam Run trail. Not 10 feet from this change in terrain do I encounter the first patch of mud, followed by a series of soggy pits that seemed to come every five yards. Rather than worry about skirting around the muddy obstacles, I charge through them and splash dirty water up and down my legs.
The other runner passes me going the opposite direction, and I hope I can beat him back to the parking lot, but I know my direction will be more difficult to keep pace. Shortly afterward, I pass the other person in the park, walking in my direction, trying not to drench the bottoms of his jeans, an exercise in futility.
The third third of my run returns me to the woods, crossing a more winding path than the previous sections. Unlike the first wooded area, there are no flats, only steep stairs going down and brief but challenging hills going back up, as the trail meanders back to the parking lot.
I crest the final hill, pumping my arms to maintain my momentum, hoping to finish strong and before the other runner. However, he is already walking to his car as I reach the end of the run. My calves feel like jelly. My Vibrams are caked in mud.
Hampton Hills was nearly deserted except for three cars, including my own. Another runner was limbering up as I got out of my car and walked over to the trail to begin my run.
The bottom land of the first third of the run is wet but firm. My feet, wearing Vibrams, glide over the small, rolling hills until the stairs break my momentum. The steep climb serves me a sweet taste of humble pie, as I slow to a walk near the summit of the hill. I turn to survey the trail behind me and vow to reach the top without walking next time.
I emerge from the woods to the meadow at the Top O' the World, the second third of the 3.2-mile Adam Run trail. Not 10 feet from this change in terrain do I encounter the first patch of mud, followed by a series of soggy pits that seemed to come every five yards. Rather than worry about skirting around the muddy obstacles, I charge through them and splash dirty water up and down my legs.
The other runner passes me going the opposite direction, and I hope I can beat him back to the parking lot, but I know my direction will be more difficult to keep pace. Shortly afterward, I pass the other person in the park, walking in my direction, trying not to drench the bottoms of his jeans, an exercise in futility.
The third third of my run returns me to the woods, crossing a more winding path than the previous sections. Unlike the first wooded area, there are no flats, only steep stairs going down and brief but challenging hills going back up, as the trail meanders back to the parking lot.
I crest the final hill, pumping my arms to maintain my momentum, hoping to finish strong and before the other runner. However, he is already walking to his car as I reach the end of the run. My calves feel like jelly. My Vibrams are caked in mud.
Friday, March 4, 2011
Flashback Friday: Better Than the TV Show
Usually, when the Enthusiast turns her attention to The Hills, I take it as my sign to go play the banjo in the back room. When she turned her attention to the hills last night, we were side by side. And FYI, the Hampton Hills are far more entertaining than the MTV reality show.
We were hoping that the recent improvement in weather would have melted away all the ice from the path, but like our last trail run we were forced to skirt the edges and run on the untrodden snow. And where it wasn't an ice rink, it was a mudslide--and I don't mean the cocktail.
We alternated between a plodding pace over the slippery terrain and an overenthusiastic sprint through the dry patches. The Enthusiast is starting to get her trail legs. Just wait until I introduce water crossings! Heheheh ...
Back Talk
Wherein we sing the praises we deserve for our undignified suffering.
Misszippy is certain my March mileage will increase: "Your numbers will surely rise this month. You don't want the Enthusiast to leave you in the dust at the 1/2, do you?"
Answer: As a matter of fact, I do. It'd be pretty sad if the Enthusiast couldn't leave this spectator behind.
Robin cheers us on during this dim season: "A big yay! to the Enthusiast for moving ahead with her training during a VERY difficult and crappy northern Ohio winter!"
Answer: Here, here!
Gin, a long-time Booze Hound and recent addition to the running team, has dim prospects for advice: "Since I recently have taken on a running routine and need some tips, I think you need a section on your blog for the 'Dear Viper' letters."
Answer: What do you think Flashback Friday is for? Use the comments to submit your questions.
Happy Hour is nearly upon us, teammates! Have a finely brewed weekend. The Viper and the Enthusiast are scheduled for lots of running and dancing this weekend, as we take our show to The Great White North. Run well and drink well. Cheers!
We were hoping that the recent improvement in weather would have melted away all the ice from the path, but like our last trail run we were forced to skirt the edges and run on the untrodden snow. And where it wasn't an ice rink, it was a mudslide--and I don't mean the cocktail.
We alternated between a plodding pace over the slippery terrain and an overenthusiastic sprint through the dry patches. The Enthusiast is starting to get her trail legs. Just wait until I introduce water crossings! Heheheh ...
Back Talk
Wherein we sing the praises we deserve for our undignified suffering.
Misszippy is certain my March mileage will increase: "Your numbers will surely rise this month. You don't want the Enthusiast to leave you in the dust at the 1/2, do you?"
Answer: As a matter of fact, I do. It'd be pretty sad if the Enthusiast couldn't leave this spectator behind.
Robin cheers us on during this dim season: "A big yay! to the Enthusiast for moving ahead with her training during a VERY difficult and crappy northern Ohio winter!"
Answer: Here, here!
Gin, a long-time Booze Hound and recent addition to the running team, has dim prospects for advice: "Since I recently have taken on a running routine and need some tips, I think you need a section on your blog for the 'Dear Viper' letters."
Answer: What do you think Flashback Friday is for? Use the comments to submit your questions.
Happy Hour is nearly upon us, teammates! Have a finely brewed weekend. The Viper and the Enthusiast are scheduled for lots of running and dancing this weekend, as we take our show to The Great White North. Run well and drink well. Cheers!
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
The Hunter and the Hunted
My legs spun in tiny circles in a barely successful attempt to keep me from falling on the long, steep decline from Hawkins Hill. The Dogwood Trail at Sand Run is like a horseshoe standing upright, each end breaking away from and rejoining the Mingo Trail.
I didn't know if they were ahead of me or behind me. When I got to the bottom of the hill, I turned right onto to the Mingo Trail in hopes of finding them.
No one was at the meeting place when I got there, so I figured they had gone on without me as instructed. This would be a solo run unless I could catch up.
I turned onto the Valley Link trail and flew across the tight path, over the railroad tracks, up the wooden plank stairs, across Merriman Road, toward Sand Run. The trail was too winding to see too far ahead, but I kept my ears tuned for voices I recognized. None were heard.
At Sand Run, I took a quick drink of water at the fountain and headed onto the Mingo Trail, pushing the pace where I could, surging and recovering on the hills. I turned left up the steep slope where the Dogwood Trail splits off, knowing that Martini likes the challenge of this terrain.
I saw a man and his longhaired son, a woman and her exuberant dog, and a family looking for the woman and her exuberant dog. No sign of my quarry.
At the other end of the horseshoe, I could turn left or right. Last time, we went right to run the rest of the Mingo Trail in a figure 8. My instincts led me the same way. Lo and behold, there they were, Martini and the other two, running toward me. I joined the pack, but we split up shortly afterward.
When we reached the road crossing, Martini and one of the other runners decided to skip the second half of the trail and take the multipurpose Sand Run path back. "You guys can catch up to us," Martini said, as we continued on the Mingo Trail, climbing straight up a hill.
Our prey would be running on a much straighter and relatively flatter course. Catching them would be tough. My fellow hunter and I would try, nonetheless.
We methodically plodded up the hills and flew down them. In no time, we reached the end of the trail, at a driveway where we met back with the the multipurpose path with a mile to go before the main parking lot.
Sure that we were well behind Martini and the other runner, we picked up the pace on the flatter terrain. Another runner tucked in behind us. I had visions of the chase I had here a month ago. The three of us pushed onward.
I let my fellow hunter lead, as he held a faster pace than I'm used to running. However, every time I felt us slowing down some, I'd surge ahead. The woman behind us kept me from slowing down. We were flying.
With a quarter mile before the Sand Run path ended, though, our chase seemed hopeless. The path had straightened out, and we couldn't see Martini ahead. "I don't know if we're going to catch them now," I said. We kept up the pace until the path ended.
The woman dropped off behind us, but the two of us continued onto the road toward the Valley Link trail. "Maybe we will catch them," my fellow hunter said. I looked ahead, and there was Martini's bald head and the other runner.
We caught them just as they were about to turn onto Portage Path, toward Martini's home. We said our goodbyes and split off two by two again. My fellow hunter had parked where I did, and we still had a mile to go.
Our pace was easier now that the hunt was over. We turned onto the Valley Link trail and glided through the tight path, away from Sand Run, across Merriman Road, down the wooden plank stairs, over the railroad tracks, toward the Towpath and back to our cars.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Enter the 20-Miler
My plan for Sunday's long run seemed like a lot of fun, in theory. The easiest way to log the long miles around here is to trudge up the Towpath Trail and back for whatever mileage, but I get bored with the same flat terrain. To spice things up, I decided to take a slight detour on the Buckeye Trail for my first of three 20-milers of this training cycle.
My pace was in the mid- to high-9:00s for the first six miles, as I ran from Szalay's farm to just past the Boston Store on the Towpath. From the Boston Store, I broke off the Towpath to the Buckeye Trail to Pine Lane, about eight miles out and back, through single-track trails and steep hills. Then I returned to the saving graces of the flat Towpath back to my starting point.
After the Buckeye Trail portion of my run, my pace dropped off considerably. And by that time, the temperature had reached the 80s. I struggled on those final six miles as my water supply ran scarce, but my training week ended well.
Akron Marathon Training Week 10:
- Monday's barefoot five-mile recovery run quickly flushed out Week 9 (9:42 pace).
- Thursday's breathless 7.5-miler was supposed to be Wednesday's nine-miler (10:41 pace).
- Friday's barefoot, easy but still-out-of-breath four-miler was supposed to happen Thursday (10:05 pace).
- Saturday made me feel better with a 10.7-mile run through West Akron (9:22 pace).
- Sunday was my first 20-miler (20.5, actually) of the year (11:11 pace).
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Knowing When to Quit
Pain is one of the best teachers we runners have. If you feel it, you're doing something wrong. Last night's trek home from work taught me a few cruel lessons.
Yesterday was hot and humid with thunderstorms in the forecast. Rain would have provided a welcome relief, but the clouds never cracked while I was out there sweltering. My scenic trek included two long stretches without much cover from the sun.
I was prepared to hydrate properly, sucking down water at work and carrying my handheld on the run. I was not prepared with proper fuel. Lunch did not provide enough calories to power my body for almost three hours.
My legs started to cramp by the 10th mile or so. The run was supposed to be 16 miles, but I'd had enough at 14. The heat, humidity and lack of proper fueling had gotten the better of me. After trying to climb the Memorial Parkway hill back home, I swallowed my pride and called the Enthusiast for a ride.
I knew I made the right decision when I got home. I grabbed a granola bar and started mixing a protein shake while I drew a cool bath. I was feeling hot and lightheaded and nauseous. I needed to cool down and consume some calories fast.
There was a rare Coca-Cola in the fridge, and I asked the Enthusiast to bring it to me as I stumbled to the bathtub. Within a few moments, my temperature was down and the cold cola had revived my energy.
Sometimes we all need a reminder of how to prepare for a run.
Bad Blood, Good Beer
As you can imagine, I've just about had it with all the LeBron James news. I wasn't even going to mention his leaving Cleveland for Miami, but then the news became relevant to Booze Hounds. Great Lakes Brewing Co. will release a LeBron-themed beer to commemorate the Cavaliers' former star player.
Behold: Quitness! Described as "really bitter" ale, this brew will only be available at the Great Lakes brewpub for a limited time.
[Drunkard's note: Thanks to Gin for the link.]
Friday, June 18, 2010
Flashback Friday: Two-a-Day and 'Where the Fuck Are Your Shoes?'
The lumbering hiker was squeezing under a fallen tree on the trail at Hampton Hills last night as I approached from the other direction. As soon as he saw my feet, he started acting like a bully.
Him: "Where the fuck are your shoes?"
Me: "Left them in the car."
Him: "Here, let me step on your feet so you don't make that mistake again."
Me: "Yeah, OK."
Then he told me to find the fucking park ranger and tell him to grab a fucking chainsaw and clear the fucking tree from the path. Had it not been for that fucking tree, I could have just blown past him and ignored his jackass comments. "By the way, it's clear the rest of the way," he said as I climbed through the fallen foliage and left him to swear at his silent wife and dog.
I was more concerned with the sharp pebbles on this part of the trail, trying to avoid stepping on the ground so it wouldn't hurt. The hills (and perhaps my five-miler yesterday morning) had tired my legs, making it difficult to maintain a high foot turnover rate. I longed for the smooth, soft soil awaiting my feet at the end of the run.
I finished the circuit three minutes faster than I ever have barefoot or in my Hippie Shoes (aka huaraches), and I was 30 seconds faster than I was in shoes this year--and possibly ever. When I emerged from the woods, I saw the profane hiker sitting on a picnic table with his wife and dog. I walked confidently across the gravel parking lot to my car. He kept his fucking mouth shut.
Back Talk
Wherein we set the bar only as high as it needs to be to beat our previous best.
Our Comrade BrianFlash thinks my marathon race pace goal shouldn't be too fast or too slow, but just right: "I like the Surgei Bubka approach to setting PRs--beat each one by a whisker so you can set another during the next race.
"I say--go 3:59:59!"
Answer: It seems I've inadvertently already applied Bubka's strategy in my last 5-K. Perhaps I'll run as hard as I can at the marathon and then wait in front of the finish line if I'm early. That way I know how fast I could have been, but still save a PR for next time.
Happy Hour is almost upon us, teammates! Have a finely brewed weekend. Run well and drink well. Cheers!
Him: "Where the fuck are your shoes?"
Me: "Left them in the car."
Him: "Here, let me step on your feet so you don't make that mistake again."
Me: "Yeah, OK."
Then he told me to find the fucking park ranger and tell him to grab a fucking chainsaw and clear the fucking tree from the path. Had it not been for that fucking tree, I could have just blown past him and ignored his jackass comments. "By the way, it's clear the rest of the way," he said as I climbed through the fallen foliage and left him to swear at his silent wife and dog.
I was more concerned with the sharp pebbles on this part of the trail, trying to avoid stepping on the ground so it wouldn't hurt. The hills (and perhaps my five-miler yesterday morning) had tired my legs, making it difficult to maintain a high foot turnover rate. I longed for the smooth, soft soil awaiting my feet at the end of the run.
I finished the circuit three minutes faster than I ever have barefoot or in my Hippie Shoes (aka huaraches), and I was 30 seconds faster than I was in shoes this year--and possibly ever. When I emerged from the woods, I saw the profane hiker sitting on a picnic table with his wife and dog. I walked confidently across the gravel parking lot to my car. He kept his fucking mouth shut.
Back Talk
Wherein we set the bar only as high as it needs to be to beat our previous best.
Our Comrade BrianFlash thinks my marathon race pace goal shouldn't be too fast or too slow, but just right: "I like the Surgei Bubka approach to setting PRs--beat each one by a whisker so you can set another during the next race.
"I say--go 3:59:59!"
Answer: It seems I've inadvertently already applied Bubka's strategy in my last 5-K. Perhaps I'll run as hard as I can at the marathon and then wait in front of the finish line if I'm early. That way I know how fast I could have been, but still save a PR for next time.
Happy Hour is almost upon us, teammates! Have a finely brewed weekend. Run well and drink well. Cheers!
Friday, June 4, 2010
Flashback Friday: What Goes In
I first started to truly think about food's effect on performance after reading a 2005 interview with Sally Jenkins, a Washington Post sports columnist and coauthor of Lance Armstrong's book, It's Not About the Bike.
In the Poynter Institute interview, Jenkins compared athletes performing under pressure to journalists writing under deadline and how the brain functions in high-stress situations. She argued that the brain robs the body of energy in order to think. Therefore, the better shape we're in, the better we'll react to pressure.
A big part of that equation is what we eat.
"Any athlete will tell you that what goes into your body is what comes out, in the performance," Jenkins said.
The interview inspired me to pursue a healthier lifestyle so that I could better deal with the deadlines of my then-new job. Consequently, I started running the next March. (Seriously, read the interview.)
It didn't take me long to latch onto the concept of food as fuel. Running lets you know pretty quickly if what you ate beforehand was a good choice or not.
For instance, beef jerky and Mountain Dew will not take you very far. A better choice would include a mix of complex carbohydrates, sodium and potassium -- like, say, a Fiber One bar and a piece of fruit. And for goodness sake, drink water, not soda pop.
"A marathoner doesn't drink a Coke and eat a glazed doughnut before a race, because he'll collapse," Jenkins said.
Ryan Hall recently wrote about staying hydrated at his blog, suggesting that a glass of water first thing in the morning will give you a jumpstart on your daily hydration needs. He also drinks eight ounces of water before and after a meal to help with digestion. That's a smart way to get your water and help avoid the grumble gut on your run.
I'm pretty good about drinking water throughout the work day, as I have a 32-ounce bottle at my desk. I tend to drink two full bottles before I go home, but then I kind of forget about hydration.
I need to get better about drinking water at home and on the weekends. Eating smarter before a run will always be a battle, which is why I prefer to run before I eat.
Back Talk
Wherein we exchange our water for something a little more appropriate.
The multi-blogged TinaGirl was worried that the Sierra Nevada Summerfest had sullied my enjoyment of this brewery's, uh ... er, brews: "Sierra Nevada is in my very own backyard (well at least on the other end of town) and for a small brewing company they have many different options, so you may not have enjoyed Summerfest enough but there are lots more 'heavy Hitters' to choose from!"
Answer: Never fear. Sierra Nevada has been on my A list for years. I'm always willing to try one of their new creations. The Porter and Stout are still my favorite. The Summerfest was exactly as advertised -- very refreshing. In fact, I had one last night after another bout with Memorial Hill.
On that note, Happy Hour is nearly upon us, teammates. Have a finely brewed weekend. Run well and drink well. Cheers!
In the Poynter Institute interview, Jenkins compared athletes performing under pressure to journalists writing under deadline and how the brain functions in high-stress situations. She argued that the brain robs the body of energy in order to think. Therefore, the better shape we're in, the better we'll react to pressure.
A big part of that equation is what we eat.
"Any athlete will tell you that what goes into your body is what comes out, in the performance," Jenkins said.
The interview inspired me to pursue a healthier lifestyle so that I could better deal with the deadlines of my then-new job. Consequently, I started running the next March. (Seriously, read the interview.)
It didn't take me long to latch onto the concept of food as fuel. Running lets you know pretty quickly if what you ate beforehand was a good choice or not.
For instance, beef jerky and Mountain Dew will not take you very far. A better choice would include a mix of complex carbohydrates, sodium and potassium -- like, say, a Fiber One bar and a piece of fruit. And for goodness sake, drink water, not soda pop.
"A marathoner doesn't drink a Coke and eat a glazed doughnut before a race, because he'll collapse," Jenkins said.
Ryan Hall recently wrote about staying hydrated at his blog, suggesting that a glass of water first thing in the morning will give you a jumpstart on your daily hydration needs. He also drinks eight ounces of water before and after a meal to help with digestion. That's a smart way to get your water and help avoid the grumble gut on your run.
I'm pretty good about drinking water throughout the work day, as I have a 32-ounce bottle at my desk. I tend to drink two full bottles before I go home, but then I kind of forget about hydration.
I need to get better about drinking water at home and on the weekends. Eating smarter before a run will always be a battle, which is why I prefer to run before I eat.
Back Talk
Wherein we exchange our water for something a little more appropriate.
The multi-blogged TinaGirl was worried that the Sierra Nevada Summerfest had sullied my enjoyment of this brewery's, uh ... er, brews: "Sierra Nevada is in my very own backyard (well at least on the other end of town) and for a small brewing company they have many different options, so you may not have enjoyed Summerfest enough but there are lots more 'heavy Hitters' to choose from!"
Answer: Never fear. Sierra Nevada has been on my A list for years. I'm always willing to try one of their new creations. The Porter and Stout are still my favorite. The Summerfest was exactly as advertised -- very refreshing. In fact, I had one last night after another bout with Memorial Hill.
On that note, Happy Hour is nearly upon us, teammates. Have a finely brewed weekend. Run well and drink well. Cheers!
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Race Report: Thank the Hills
The Tallmadge Memorial 5-K was Monday. This was my fourth time running it. Each time has been faster than the last. I gained a second in the chute. I've done extra-long reports on this race. Now, here's an extra-short version in haiku:
7:09
Weave with Martini
Fighting the tight crowd down hill
My fastest first mile?
7:33
Hot and humid now
Slog starting to set in now
Big uphill comes now
7:44 (1.1 miles @ 7:02 pace)
Past the last marker
Pass that kid into the chute
A personal best
The Aftermath
This race gave me faith in the hill training I have been focusing on in the last month or so. In fact, I ran 10 miles on Saturday on a portion of the Buckeye Trail, a very hilly and technical out-and-back that left my legs feeling like jelly afterward. Last year, I started track sessions in March. I haven't stepped on the oval of doom yet this year.
My revised goals turned out to be unnecessary. I picked off my top two original goals, but the rest will have to wait until next time. That is, after all, the great thing about running: There's always more to accomplish.
A new feature to this year's race was a separate start for men and women, which I think was done to thin the herd at this growing, small-town race. It worked out well, and it was neat to be able to cheer for most of the women before the start of my race.
The giveaway shirts were a huge upgrade over last year's hideous golden puke-colored technical T-shirts. Instead we got a fairly attractively designed, blue Asics technical tank top, which I will actually wear. Good job, Ritchie's!
I said this was going to be an extra-short report, but here I am prattling on ...
7:09
Weave with Martini
Fighting the tight crowd down hill
My fastest first mile?
7:33
Hot and humid now
Slog starting to set in now
Big uphill comes now
7:44 (1.1 miles @ 7:02 pace)
Past the last marker
Pass that kid into the chute
A personal best
The Aftermath
This race gave me faith in the hill training I have been focusing on in the last month or so. In fact, I ran 10 miles on Saturday on a portion of the Buckeye Trail, a very hilly and technical out-and-back that left my legs feeling like jelly afterward. Last year, I started track sessions in March. I haven't stepped on the oval of doom yet this year.
My revised goals turned out to be unnecessary. I picked off my top two original goals, but the rest will have to wait until next time. That is, after all, the great thing about running: There's always more to accomplish.
A new feature to this year's race was a separate start for men and women, which I think was done to thin the herd at this growing, small-town race. It worked out well, and it was neat to be able to cheer for most of the women before the start of my race.
The giveaway shirts were a huge upgrade over last year's hideous golden puke-colored technical T-shirts. Instead we got a fairly attractively designed, blue Asics technical tank top, which I will actually wear. Good job, Ritchie's!
I said this was going to be an extra-short report, but here I am prattling on ...
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Breaking the Silence, Ending the Streak
Sorry to get all Half-Fast on you. You know how it goes. Work gets busy. Running is little to none. Blogging material escapes you. To make a short story longer, I didn't feel like blogging and now I do.
With deadlines met and my idle thoughts returning, I got back outside to run after a three-day break. Of course, I picked a day that was supposed to approach record temperatures. And so I picked a route that would keep me mostly in the shade, Hampton Hills.
I didn't feel like wearing shoes, but I also wasn't sure if my feet could handle my first barefoot run on rough trails so I brought along the Hippie Shoes just in case.
The trail I run at this park is kind of like a three-part course over 3.2 miles. The first part is in the woods on mostly smooth dirt, with a river crossing and a steep uphill. The second part is through a field of rolling hills and tall grass. The third part returns to the woods with less than smooth dirt and gravel and steep downhills and a few uphills.
My soles were fine and dandy until that third part. I left the huaraches in the car. My plan was to run one loop barefoot to see how it felt and grab the Hippie Shoes, if necessary, for a second loop. Oh yes, the footwear was necessary.
The jagged rocks and gravel, steep wood-plank steps and exposed roots tortured my feet during that final third of the trail. My form was already suffering from fatigue. I couldn't relax and adapt my footfalls to the terrain. But overall, I was happy with mylongest toughest barefoot run yet.
After I grabbed my Hippie Shoes, I reversed route to find the Enthusiast and Dobson. I was hoping to run two loops for 6.4 miles, but my first lap was so slow that I didn't have time for a full second without making my companions wait. Instead, I ran to them and we all ran back to the trailhead -- about 5 miles total for the day.
And because I know my audience ...
Still cute after ruining your shoes ...
Beer Tasting Snapshots
I tried two new-to-me brews in the last week, but since I skipped my usual Tuesday post, I'll have to catch you up with a quick update:
Unibroue Terrible: Bubbly dark Belgian ale, 10.5 ABV, 4.4 Hiccups
New Holland Imperial Hatter: Well-balanced hops, 9.4 ABV, 4.2 Hiccups
[Drunkard's note: The Booze Hounds Beer Rating scale (0-5 Hiccups) is based on a complex mathematical formula that would be impossible to explain to such a dunderheaded audience. Let's just say the higher the score, the more likely I am to drink it again. If Natty Light is your control beer, mark it zero.]
With deadlines met and my idle thoughts returning, I got back outside to run after a three-day break. Of course, I picked a day that was supposed to approach record temperatures. And so I picked a route that would keep me mostly in the shade, Hampton Hills.
I didn't feel like wearing shoes, but I also wasn't sure if my feet could handle my first barefoot run on rough trails so I brought along the Hippie Shoes just in case.
The trail I run at this park is kind of like a three-part course over 3.2 miles. The first part is in the woods on mostly smooth dirt, with a river crossing and a steep uphill. The second part is through a field of rolling hills and tall grass. The third part returns to the woods with less than smooth dirt and gravel and steep downhills and a few uphills.
My soles were fine and dandy until that third part. I left the huaraches in the car. My plan was to run one loop barefoot to see how it felt and grab the Hippie Shoes, if necessary, for a second loop. Oh yes, the footwear was necessary.
The jagged rocks and gravel, steep wood-plank steps and exposed roots tortured my feet during that final third of the trail. My form was already suffering from fatigue. I couldn't relax and adapt my footfalls to the terrain. But overall, I was happy with my
After I grabbed my Hippie Shoes, I reversed route to find the Enthusiast and Dobson. I was hoping to run two loops for 6.4 miles, but my first lap was so slow that I didn't have time for a full second without making my companions wait. Instead, I ran to them and we all ran back to the trailhead -- about 5 miles total for the day.
And because I know my audience ...
Still cute after ruining your shoes ...I tried two new-to-me brews in the last week, but since I skipped my usual Tuesday post, I'll have to catch you up with a quick update:
Unibroue Terrible: Bubbly dark Belgian ale, 10.5 ABV, 4.4 Hiccups
New Holland Imperial Hatter: Well-balanced hops, 9.4 ABV, 4.2 Hiccups
[Drunkard's note: The Booze Hounds Beer Rating scale (0-5 Hiccups) is based on a complex mathematical formula that would be impossible to explain to such a dunderheaded audience. Let's just say the higher the score, the more likely I am to drink it again. If Natty Light is your control beer, mark it zero.]
Friday, May 7, 2010
Flashback Friday: 46 91.5 Miles to Go
My weekly giant slalom interval improved by another 1:28 over last week. My goal is to keep my pace even on the downhill of Memorial Parkway and the flatland of the Towpath.
I bombed down at an 8:10 mile pace. I stopped for a quick drink of water at the entry to the Towpath and then ran an 8:11 mile out to my turnaround, followed by a 7:52 back to the bottom of the hill. Success!
My uphill pace is also slowly improving. My first attempt was roughly a 12:21 mile pace, and I ran up yesterday at a 10:44 pace.
My overall effort was a solid 8:50 per mile. I've also gotten better at not almost falling on the descent.
Back Talk
Wherein I get my own words thrown in my face. Who knew you people actually paid attention?
Xenia proves she knows how to dig up shit from the past in regard to my 60-mile goal: "Didn't you want to hit an average of 20 miles per week? If so, then your 60 mile May is insufficient. You suck big hairy monkey balls at math so I thought I'd help you out. No need to thank me."
Answer: No, I won't thank you, but a curse word comes to mind for reminding me of this post. My running log's "Yearly Goal Progress" reads -151.6 miles. My average weekly rate so far is 11.7 miles. If my math is anywhere near correct (unlikely), I will have to average 105.5 miles each month from here on out. Another curse word come to mind.
Happy Hour is nearly upon us, teammates. Have a finely brewed weekend. Run well and drink well. Cheers!
I bombed down at an 8:10 mile pace. I stopped for a quick drink of water at the entry to the Towpath and then ran an 8:11 mile out to my turnaround, followed by a 7:52 back to the bottom of the hill. Success!
My uphill pace is also slowly improving. My first attempt was roughly a 12:21 mile pace, and I ran up yesterday at a 10:44 pace.
My overall effort was a solid 8:50 per mile. I've also gotten better at not almost falling on the descent.
Back Talk
Wherein I get my own words thrown in my face. Who knew you people actually paid attention?
Xenia proves she knows how to dig up shit from the past in regard to my 60-mile goal: "Didn't you want to hit an average of 20 miles per week? If so, then your 60 mile May is insufficient. You suck big hairy monkey balls at math so I thought I'd help you out. No need to thank me."
Answer: No, I won't thank you, but a curse word comes to mind for reminding me of this post. My running log's "Yearly Goal Progress" reads -151.6 miles. My average weekly rate so far is 11.7 miles. If my math is anywhere near correct (unlikely), I will have to average 105.5 miles each month from here on out. Another curse word come to mind.
Happy Hour is nearly upon us, teammates. Have a finely brewed weekend. Run well and drink well. Cheers!
Thursday, April 29, 2010
The Hills Are Alive with the Sound of Mis'ry
I'd hate to jinx myself, but my ankles are awesome. I was tearing down the Memorial Parkway hill at an 8:15 clip, spinning my feet, when my left foot landed on a rock or in a hole or something that caused it to roll and me to almost French kiss the glass strewn curb.
For a moment, I must have looked like one of those collapsing toy figurines, as I stumbled and recovered -- ungracefully but effectively -- and continued onward. There was a twinge in my ankle, but everything seemed fine after a few tentative steps. There is no hint of a strain or sprain today.
My only theory for why my ankles are super rad is running barefoot or in minimalist shoes. My feet and supporting muscles and ligaments have gotten stronger and more resilient, and I've started to figure out how to react when I land on things that hurt.
My 4.5-mile hill interval was completed at 9:09 mile pace, an improvement of 2:23 over last week's total time.
They're Cheats
You are letting the cheaters get away with it if you don't go change your vote to "Viper." I'm the only person who competed in the Last Mile Brewing Virtual Halfathon who wrote a race report that takes as long to read as running a half marathon. The other contenders? Look how short those performances are! That can't be legal. Do the right thing: Vote for Viper.
For a moment, I must have looked like one of those collapsing toy figurines, as I stumbled and recovered -- ungracefully but effectively -- and continued onward. There was a twinge in my ankle, but everything seemed fine after a few tentative steps. There is no hint of a strain or sprain today.
My only theory for why my ankles are super rad is running barefoot or in minimalist shoes. My feet and supporting muscles and ligaments have gotten stronger and more resilient, and I've started to figure out how to react when I land on things that hurt.
My 4.5-mile hill interval was completed at 9:09 mile pace, an improvement of 2:23 over last week's total time.
They're Cheats
You are letting the cheaters get away with it if you don't go change your vote to "Viper." I'm the only person who competed in the Last Mile Brewing Virtual Halfathon who wrote a race report that takes as long to read as running a half marathon. The other contenders? Look how short those performances are! That can't be legal. Do the right thing: Vote for Viper.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Flashback Friday: What Goes Down,
Must ... Fuck, Are You for Serious?
What are you trying to say, boy? Well, I did it. I got out there. After more than a week, I ran. And it was good.
I'm not ready to declare an end to my funkiness, but I can at least stop staring at the big goose egg in my mileage counter for this week.
I decided to exorcise my running demons by descending into the valley of death, down Memorial Parkway to the Towpath, which is the biggest hill in Akron, in my estimation. (From the summit of Summit County, Ohio, into the Cuyahoga River valley.)
I ran about 4.5 miles total, but about 1.6 of those miles were spent stumbling down, then death-marching up a hill that averages between 8 to 12 percent grade, but has a stretch that peaks at about 20 percent grade. I mean, it's no mountain, but it tuckered me out.
My quads and hammies felt like hot pepper jelly afterward, and my calves are all like, "Dude, that was just mean."
Back Talk
Wherein we're disappointed with the media. Again.
Miss Zippy wasn't impressed with the reporting on the Boston Marathon: "I was trying to find coverage on TV and could find none. Still amazes me that the biggest running event doesn't make it, but I guess we are a minority. I did follow a few friends though -- it's so interesting to watch someone's race unfold."
Answer: From what I hear, you had to pay for terrible coverage. Couldn't we at least get a tape-delay?
Old Jess thinks maybe my funk is a result of a mysterious identity: "Maybe you ARE [Jayson] Blair, hiding under this pseudonym of 'Viper.' That's why no pics of you, huh? Finally. I have solved the mystery."
Answer: To add a little intrigue to this theory, I also went to school with a guy who was partly responsible for outing
Happy Hour is nearly upon us, teammates, and boy-howdy is it a nice day for patio drinking! Have a finely brewed weekend. Run well and drink well. Cheers!
Monday, April 12, 2010
Sniffles and Trails
My nose, sinuses and throat have been giving me fits. Maybe it's allergies, like everyone else, even though I was trying to be different. Regardless, I finally sniffled it up and headed out for a run with Martini, the Enthusiast and Dobson at O'Neil Woods, the former farmstead of another of Akron's tire barons, William O'Neil, who founded General Tire in 1915.
The Deer Run trail is a hilly 1.8-mile loop. This was my first time running this trail and I chose to wear my hippie shoes. Martini was out to get some distance, while the Enthusiast was shooting for her first-ever trail run. I ran my first lap with the Enthusiast and Dobson and let Martini go ahead at his pace.
The trail itself is not as rough or as long as the Perkins Trail I've been running recently, but its hills are steeper and longer. In the direction we ran, the downhill was all stairs, which I found to be as unpleasant as I did the first time I dealt with stairs during my first-ever run in the huaraches.
The Enthusiast struggled some with the trails, but did a wonderful job keeping her head up and tackling those steep uphills, churning those legs against gravity. The sight of the parking lot was a welcome site after we climbed the final hill.
I barely managed to make a pit stop and grab a squirt of water before Martini came through the bushes after his second loop. He was running much faster than I anticipated and knew it would be challenge to keep good form in the hippie shoes and keep up at that pace.
My four-day layoff from running and the difficulty I had breathing was soon very evident. I started launching a barrage of snot rockets left and right. The brutal uphill was upon me too quickly. My granny gear only got me about halfway up before I had to walk the rest, which was actually faster.
We arrived back at the parking lot 14 minutes faster than my first lap. That was enough for me for one day. Martini took another lap, while I relaxed in the cool grass with the Enthusiast and Dobson.
The Deer Run trail is a hilly 1.8-mile loop. This was my first time running this trail and I chose to wear my hippie shoes. Martini was out to get some distance, while the Enthusiast was shooting for her first-ever trail run. I ran my first lap with the Enthusiast and Dobson and let Martini go ahead at his pace.
The trail itself is not as rough or as long as the Perkins Trail I've been running recently, but its hills are steeper and longer. In the direction we ran, the downhill was all stairs, which I found to be as unpleasant as I did the first time I dealt with stairs during my first-ever run in the huaraches.
The Enthusiast struggled some with the trails, but did a wonderful job keeping her head up and tackling those steep uphills, churning those legs against gravity. The sight of the parking lot was a welcome site after we climbed the final hill.
I barely managed to make a pit stop and grab a squirt of water before Martini came through the bushes after his second loop. He was running much faster than I anticipated and knew it would be challenge to keep good form in the hippie shoes and keep up at that pace.
My four-day layoff from running and the difficulty I had breathing was soon very evident. I started launching a barrage of snot rockets left and right. The brutal uphill was upon me too quickly. My granny gear only got me about halfway up before I had to walk the rest, which was actually faster.
We arrived back at the parking lot 14 minutes faster than my first lap. That was enough for me for one day. Martini took another lap, while I relaxed in the cool grass with the Enthusiast and Dobson.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Really, How Bad Is a Doughnut for You?
What about Two?
As I feel the surge of sugar flow through my veins after a second maple frosted doughnut of the day -- lunch deserves a dessert, right? -- I'm starting to worry about the effects of two doughnuts today will have on my running. (The first one this morning was cream filled.)
Probably not much.
Chances are I'll burn off these zillion-and-a-half calories in the next month or so, but still I'm thinking about my eventual plan of attack for the Akron Marathon.
Last year, I was bound and determined to break the four-hour mark and dedicated myself to weekly track work. The result was a 17:48 PR, but about five minutes shy of my goal.
[Drunkard's note: Yes, this is the part where you groan and think, "Criminy, are we going to have to go through another seven months of him going on and on about beating four hours in the marathon again?" The answer is yes, it is.]
Sunday, while I was plodding down Quick Road at the beginning of my nine-miler, I had a flash of inspiration.
There were few cars on the road, but everyone of them seemed to be either coming from or going to one of the three or four park areas on Quick Road. These areas are mostly just large fields with giant hills, which are perfect for sledding.
In the summer, these areas are far less populated. And then I thought, "It would be a bitch to run repeats on those hills." Thus, my marathon training plan started to come into focus. Frank Shorter is often credited with saying, "Hill repeats are speed work in disguise."
As many of you know from my past whining, the Akron Marathon is a hilly course. From the Demonic Howard Street Hill at Mile 11 to the Bastard Garman Hill at Mile 22, your thighs will be in pain.
I hoped last year's focus on speed work would give my legs the strength they needed to conquer these hills, while giving me the speed to achieve my goal time. I now believe that I must fight fire with fire. If I want to be beat the hills, I need to run more hills.
When I compose my training schedule for my fourth crack at Akron, I will be including barefoot repeats on those gnarly hills. No ifs, ands or buts -- I will beat four hours in the marathon this year. And these doughnuts will be just a faded memory.
Probably not much.
Chances are I'll burn off these zillion-and-a-half calories in the next month or so, but still I'm thinking about my eventual plan of attack for the Akron Marathon.
Last year, I was bound and determined to break the four-hour mark and dedicated myself to weekly track work. The result was a 17:48 PR, but about five minutes shy of my goal.
[Drunkard's note: Yes, this is the part where you groan and think, "Criminy, are we going to have to go through another seven months of him going on and on about beating four hours in the marathon again?" The answer is yes, it is.]
Sunday, while I was plodding down Quick Road at the beginning of my nine-miler, I had a flash of inspiration.
There were few cars on the road, but everyone of them seemed to be either coming from or going to one of the three or four park areas on Quick Road. These areas are mostly just large fields with giant hills, which are perfect for sledding.
In the summer, these areas are far less populated. And then I thought, "It would be a bitch to run repeats on those hills." Thus, my marathon training plan started to come into focus. Frank Shorter is often credited with saying, "Hill repeats are speed work in disguise."
As many of you know from my past whining, the Akron Marathon is a hilly course. From the Demonic Howard Street Hill at Mile 11 to the Bastard Garman Hill at Mile 22, your thighs will be in pain.
I hoped last year's focus on speed work would give my legs the strength they needed to conquer these hills, while giving me the speed to achieve my goal time. I now believe that I must fight fire with fire. If I want to be beat the hills, I need to run more hills.
When I compose my training schedule for my fourth crack at Akron, I will be including barefoot repeats on those gnarly hills. No ifs, ands or buts -- I will beat four hours in the marathon this year. And these doughnuts will be just a faded memory.
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