Mrs. Viper can't catch a break. She had two minor surgeries in the past three months. She got bogged down with work stress. And now, three days after strongly finishing her leg of the Akron Marathon, she wrenches her back getting out of the shower.
She blames something else for the pain that now has her on a steroid regimen, but whatever the cause is irrelevant in the face of stalling our post-race "stay active" plan.
This sucks.
We both have some fitness goals, but it's tough to enact an exercise routine when one of us is stuck with doctor's orders to rest.
Mrs. Viper feels frustrated and discouraged by this new setback. Who can blame her? It has been one thing after another. It's hard to find a groove this way.
Most runners deal with injuries throughout the year, but this is ridiculous. These are freakish occurrences and have nothing to do with the typical "too much, too soon" maladies, which would be more preferable at this point. At least she would have a good reason why she hurts.
My role of head male cheerleader has been relegated to head male nurse. Instead of laying out Mrs. Viper's running outfit this morning, I arranged her medicine next to a glass for water.
Wait, did I just write about laying out my wife's clothing? Yeah, as if she'd let me pick out what she wears! I can barely match my socks, let alone a whole ensemble. But enough about my colorblindness.
The point is we should be building on our experiences at the Akron Marathon, not trying to decide whether the floor is better for her back than the couch.
When you hit a rough patch it shakes your faith. You start to wonder if this will ever end. How do you stay positive during a series of unfortunate incidents?
There was a pretty bad stretch in my life back in the 1990s. It took me to a low place for a number of years, but the experience taught me a lot about perseverance.
The ability to persevere separates those who win Charles Darwin's game of survival of the fittest. That doesn't mean you always have to present a "never say die" attitude, but know that the only constant is change. Life will get better.
Showing posts with label Accentuate the Positive Split. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Accentuate the Positive Split. Show all posts
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Monday, September 28, 2009
Race Report: Some Will Win, Some Will Lose
Ten seconds per mile. That's all I needed.
My negative split plan went all weird after the fourth mile of the Akron Marathon. I told myself to stay patient, don't panic. But I hit the 10-mile mark too fast. My 20-mile split was right on target, and I stayed confident. I told myself to hold on. However, as the final 10-K went uphill, my performance went down hill.
First 10 miles: The plan was to start off with 9:21-9:26 mile pace and hit the 10-mile mark between 1:33:30 and 1:34:20. I knew my first mile or two would probably be slow because of the crowd. I lined up about 30 feet behind the four-hour pacer and planned to stick close to him until things settled. My first two miles were 9:30 and 9:35, but I didn't panic. I just kept close to the pacer and hoped he would help me make up time.
Mile three was 9:59, and I was starting to get antsy. The pacer walked through the next water stop, and I passed him. I heard him say he was 18 seconds behind pace. I tried to keep my pace even and waited for the pacer to retake me, which he did about five minutes later. My fourth mile shocked me: 7:42. I still don't think I was running that fast, and I wonder if the course was a little mismeasured here. Regardless, I tried to back off.
My next mile was 9:18, closer to my goal, but that's as close as I got even though I had let the pace group open a significant gap. I hit the 10-mile mark at 1:31:38, right at my marathon goal pace. Don't panic. I calmed myself by thinking of all your comments, that I was so ready that I wouldn't have to log too many 9:20-ish miles. The clock was almost right at my goal time, so I thought maybe I'd beat four hours gun time. That would be cool, right?
Second 10 miles: The plan was to pick up the pace to 9-9:10 per mile and hit the 20-mile split between 3:03:30 and 3:06:00. Mile 11 contains the demonic Howard Street Hill. I've tried every which way, including loose, to approach to this hill. I don't have an answer for what works. That mile was 9:01, so I backed off and ran the next mile at 9:22. I repeated this pattern -- 9-ish mile, 9:20-ish mile -- for most of the next eight miles.
I made it through the lonely stretches of the Towpath and the difficult uphills of Sand Run (where my legs seized on me last year). I knew I was struggling a bit, but I was relieved to see the clock read 3:03:52 at 20 miles. I was still on target with 9:12 per mile, despite the positive split. Hold on to that feeling.
Final 10-K: The plan was to run all out to finish in less than four hours, which meant 57:07 or less. I didn't get off to a good start, logging the 21st mile at 9:23. It only got worse as I trudged up the Bastard Garman Hill. By the top of it, I had logged my first mile over 10 minutes. I recovered slightly for a 9:25 mile, but then fell off again for a 10:29. A new pattern. An unfortunate pattern.
I already knew I wouldn't make it. I would have had to cover the next 2.2 miles of rolling hills in less than 15 minutes. I grit my teeth and pushed on. By this point, I was audibly talking to myself between grunts: "Come on! ... Go legs! ... Don't stop!" I had no gears left to kick in. I covered the final 10-K in 1:00:55.
The clock read 4:06:xx when I crossed the finish line. My chip time was 4:04:xx. A very significant PR by 18 minutes, but a frustrating 10 seconds per mile too slow for my ultimate goal. Again, I succumbed to Start Too Fast Goblin.
I didn't achieve THE goal, but it's not the end of the world. That was my post-race beverage, along with a couple Duvels and some Sierra Nevada Torpedo.
Thanks Supporters
Thanks to all you imaginary friends in my computerwebs for cheering me on, reading my ramblings, and giving good and bad advice throughout my training. But most of all, thank you to those who were there in person.
I had great race day cheering sections, including my usual group of friends at the 23rd mile marker, my folks and other folks near the finish just before the turn into the stadium, and my biker companion who dropped Martini and I off at the start, cheered me on throughout the whole race, and had my post-race beverage on hand at the finish. It doesn't get better than that.
My negative split plan went all weird after the fourth mile of the Akron Marathon. I told myself to stay patient, don't panic. But I hit the 10-mile mark too fast. My 20-mile split was right on target, and I stayed confident. I told myself to hold on. However, as the final 10-K went uphill, my performance went down hill.
First 10 miles: The plan was to start off with 9:21-9:26 mile pace and hit the 10-mile mark between 1:33:30 and 1:34:20. I knew my first mile or two would probably be slow because of the crowd. I lined up about 30 feet behind the four-hour pacer and planned to stick close to him until things settled. My first two miles were 9:30 and 9:35, but I didn't panic. I just kept close to the pacer and hoped he would help me make up time.
Mile three was 9:59, and I was starting to get antsy. The pacer walked through the next water stop, and I passed him. I heard him say he was 18 seconds behind pace. I tried to keep my pace even and waited for the pacer to retake me, which he did about five minutes later. My fourth mile shocked me: 7:42. I still don't think I was running that fast, and I wonder if the course was a little mismeasured here. Regardless, I tried to back off.
My next mile was 9:18, closer to my goal, but that's as close as I got even though I had let the pace group open a significant gap. I hit the 10-mile mark at 1:31:38, right at my marathon goal pace. Don't panic. I calmed myself by thinking of all your comments, that I was so ready that I wouldn't have to log too many 9:20-ish miles. The clock was almost right at my goal time, so I thought maybe I'd beat four hours gun time. That would be cool, right?
Second 10 miles: The plan was to pick up the pace to 9-9:10 per mile and hit the 20-mile split between 3:03:30 and 3:06:00. Mile 11 contains the demonic Howard Street Hill. I've tried every which way, including loose, to approach to this hill. I don't have an answer for what works. That mile was 9:01, so I backed off and ran the next mile at 9:22. I repeated this pattern -- 9-ish mile, 9:20-ish mile -- for most of the next eight miles.
I made it through the lonely stretches of the Towpath and the difficult uphills of Sand Run (where my legs seized on me last year). I knew I was struggling a bit, but I was relieved to see the clock read 3:03:52 at 20 miles. I was still on target with 9:12 per mile, despite the positive split. Hold on to that feeling.
Final 10-K: The plan was to run all out to finish in less than four hours, which meant 57:07 or less. I didn't get off to a good start, logging the 21st mile at 9:23. It only got worse as I trudged up the Bastard Garman Hill. By the top of it, I had logged my first mile over 10 minutes. I recovered slightly for a 9:25 mile, but then fell off again for a 10:29. A new pattern. An unfortunate pattern.
I already knew I wouldn't make it. I would have had to cover the next 2.2 miles of rolling hills in less than 15 minutes. I grit my teeth and pushed on. By this point, I was audibly talking to myself between grunts: "Come on! ... Go legs! ... Don't stop!" I had no gears left to kick in. I covered the final 10-K in 1:00:55.
The clock read 4:06:xx when I crossed the finish line. My chip time was 4:04:xx. A very significant PR by 18 minutes, but a frustrating 10 seconds per mile too slow for my ultimate goal. Again, I succumbed to Start Too Fast Goblin.
I didn't achieve THE goal, but it's not the end of the world. That was my post-race beverage, along with a couple Duvels and some Sierra Nevada Torpedo.
Thanks Supporters
Thanks to all you imaginary friends in my computerwebs for cheering me on, reading my ramblings, and giving good and bad advice throughout my training. But most of all, thank you to those who were there in person.
I had great race day cheering sections, including my usual group of friends at the 23rd mile marker, my folks and other folks near the finish just before the turn into the stadium, and my biker companion who dropped Martini and I off at the start, cheered me on throughout the whole race, and had my post-race beverage on hand at the finish. It doesn't get better than that.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Flashback Friday: All Good Runs Must End
I guess I can't kick your face in with my awesomeness every run. It seems my strong weekend caught up to me at the track, when I felt like I was running through a cement mixer for 12 repeats of 400 meters. This time there was nothing secret about my attempt to run these intervals at sub-1:40. You'll see fewer FAILs at FailBlog.org.
Here's the statistical rundown:
Today's lesson? Don't change your goal pace on your last day of 400-meter intervals. Had I kept my goal at 1:45, I'd have had only one failure. Next week is my last high repetition track session, as I aim to complete the Yasso 800 regiment. After that I'll do just enough track work to keep my legs fresh before the marathon.
Back Talk
Wherein my readers are apparently too drunk to know what day or month it is.
Al is envious that my state has fewer blue laws than hers: "I'm jealous you could buy beer on Sunday."
Answer: "Last night" for a Tuesday post is actually a Monday, but I can buy beer on Sunday too.
Spike can't hold his Rolling Rock, as he displays some fuzzy math and his anxiety for the fall marathon season to begin: "3 x 3 = 9, you ran 33 extra miles in the 9th month. All this means that you should run your marathon in a Rolling Rock shirt."
Answer: But (33/Pi) x August = the eighth month. Mmm ... Pi.
Happy Hour is nearly upon us, teammates. Have a finely brewed weekend and good luck to all you racers. Run well and drink well. Cheers!
Here's the statistical rundown:
- Intervals: 12 x 400 meters
- Goal pace: Sub-1:40 per interval (6:42 per mile)
- Lap 1: 1:37.47 (6:30 per mile)
- Lap 2: 1:39.27 (6:38 per mile)
- Lap 3: 1:39.1 (6:38 per mile)
- Lap 4: 1:42.56 (6:50 per mile) FAIL
- Lap 5: 1:43.76 (6:54 per mile) FAIL
- Lap 6: 1:43.03 (6:54 per mile) FAIL
- Lap 7: 1:44.4 (6:58 per mile) FAIL
- Lap 8: 1:42.81 (6:50 per mile) FAIL
- Lap 9: 1:39.5 (6:38 per mile)
- Lap 10: 1:42.88 (6:50 per mile) FAIL
- Lap 11: 1:46.65 (7:06 per mile) FAIL
- Lap 12: 1:42.5 (6:50 per mile) FAIL
- Average pace: 1:41.99 (6:46 per mile) FAIL
- Total distance: 7.7 miles
Today's lesson? Don't change your goal pace on your last day of 400-meter intervals. Had I kept my goal at 1:45, I'd have had only one failure. Next week is my last high repetition track session, as I aim to complete the Yasso 800 regiment. After that I'll do just enough track work to keep my legs fresh before the marathon.
Back Talk
Wherein my readers are apparently too drunk to know what day or month it is.
Al is envious that my state has fewer blue laws than hers: "I'm jealous you could buy beer on Sunday."
Answer: "Last night" for a Tuesday post is actually a Monday, but I can buy beer on Sunday too.
Spike can't hold his Rolling Rock, as he displays some fuzzy math and his anxiety for the fall marathon season to begin: "3 x 3 = 9, you ran 33 extra miles in the 9th month. All this means that you should run your marathon in a Rolling Rock shirt."
Answer: But (33/Pi) x August = the eighth month. Mmm ... Pi.
Happy Hour is nearly upon us, teammates. Have a finely brewed weekend and good luck to all you racers. Run well and drink well. Cheers!
Monday, August 24, 2009
Weekend Overload
My legs have that satisfactory twinge of overuse after a weekend full of 28 miles. Friday's two-a-day, Saturday's track and Sunday's long run took its toll. And tonight, I plan on three more miles as recovery. Finally, I'm feeling back on track with my training.
Post Happy Hour Four
Friday evening didn't go quite as I had described. After work, I ended up at local favorite The Winking Lizard for dinner, and I couldn't pass up a Franziskaner on draught. I also couldn't pass up the Bleu Shroom Burger, which made for a melodious four-miler afterward. I felt fast, but was woefully slow.
Making Up for Lost Time
Bless me, Johnnie, for I have sinned. My last track session was 16 days from Saturday. I had to get back out on the Oval of Doom. The schedule called for 11 repeats of 400 meters. Here is the statistical rundown:
Long Coast on E
By the time I got to the 10-mile mark of Sunday's 14-miler, my legs felt empty. I finished with a two-minute positive split on the second half, but averaged 10:07 per mile overall--right in my long run pace zone.
Post Happy Hour Four
Friday evening didn't go quite as I had described. After work, I ended up at local favorite The Winking Lizard for dinner, and I couldn't pass up a Franziskaner on draught. I also couldn't pass up the Bleu Shroom Burger, which made for a melodious four-miler afterward. I felt fast, but was woefully slow.
Making Up for Lost Time
Bless me, Johnnie, for I have sinned. My last track session was 16 days from Saturday. I had to get back out on the Oval of Doom. The schedule called for 11 repeats of 400 meters. Here is the statistical rundown:
- Intervals:
11 x 400 meters - Goal pace: Sub-1:45 per interval (7:02 per mile)
- Fastest Lap (6): 1:37.37 (6:30 per mile)
- Slowest Lap (7): 1:43.9 (6:54 per mile)
- Average pace: 1:39.6 (6:38 per mile)
- Total distance: 7.2 miles
Long Coast on E
By the time I got to the 10-mile mark of Sunday's 14-miler, my legs felt empty. I finished with a two-minute positive split on the second half, but averaged 10:07 per mile overall--right in my long run pace zone.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Through a Wall
An oral history of the final stages of a 20-miler:
"How do you feel?" my biker companion asked me around Mile 16.
"Keh," I grunted.
"Do you feel OK?" my biker companion asked me around Mile 17.
"Geh," I gasped.
"Way to pick up the pace. How are feeling?" my biker companion asked me around Mile 18.
"Fah," I whispered.
"You're doing great," my biker companion said around Mile 19.
"Than," I huffed.
The first 10 miles on Sunday felt great. The next five miles even felt pretty good, considering I had run a 10-mile tempo run the day before (9:09 per mile; 47:04/44:22 negative split). Then, the run got hard. Very hard.
Miles 15-18 nearly broke me. I could feel my legs getting heavier with each step. It didn't help that a short stretch of the Towpath had recently been paved with asphalt, and I swear my feet were sticking to it. Every rise was a battle.
Shortly before the 18th mile marker, a pebble found its way into my shoe after I got off another paved section of the path to run in the grass (the majority of the Towpath is crushed limestone). I stopped to remove the bastard at the next bench. I didn't want to get back up.
I felt like I was running 20 miles -- after 10 miles the day before. I felt like I was running the most I'd ever run in a week, which is exactly what I was doing. I felt beat.
After removing the pebble, I had to climb up an underpass ramp. My biker companion went ahead of me to maintain momentum. I mumbled to myself like a crazy person as I charged uphill, exhaling short guttural syllables that at one time had been words.
Night was falling fast, and I did not want to be in the middle of a park in the dark. I reached the top of the incline and picked up my pace for the home stretch. Words returned to me, and I realized that was my wall.
The end of the run did not feel as triumphant as my 18-miler two weeks ago. Although my final mile felt strong, I was spent. I finished with a positive split second half (1:42:05/1:44:21). I was disappointed about falling off pace during the final 10 miles, but the overall pace was still within my goal range.
This is another step-down week before the Summer Un-Solstice Challenge on Aug. 15.
"How do you feel?" my biker companion asked me around Mile 16.
"Keh," I grunted.
"Do you feel OK?" my biker companion asked me around Mile 17.
"Geh," I gasped.
"Way to pick up the pace. How are feeling?" my biker companion asked me around Mile 18.
"Fah," I whispered.
"You're doing great," my biker companion said around Mile 19.
"Than," I huffed.
The first 10 miles on Sunday felt great. The next five miles even felt pretty good, considering I had run a 10-mile tempo run the day before (9:09 per mile; 47:04/44:22 negative split). Then, the run got hard. Very hard.
Miles 15-18 nearly broke me. I could feel my legs getting heavier with each step. It didn't help that a short stretch of the Towpath had recently been paved with asphalt, and I swear my feet were sticking to it. Every rise was a battle.
Shortly before the 18th mile marker, a pebble found its way into my shoe after I got off another paved section of the path to run in the grass (the majority of the Towpath is crushed limestone). I stopped to remove the bastard at the next bench. I didn't want to get back up.
I felt like I was running 20 miles -- after 10 miles the day before. I felt like I was running the most I'd ever run in a week, which is exactly what I was doing. I felt beat.
After removing the pebble, I had to climb up an underpass ramp. My biker companion went ahead of me to maintain momentum. I mumbled to myself like a crazy person as I charged uphill, exhaling short guttural syllables that at one time had been words.
Night was falling fast, and I did not want to be in the middle of a park in the dark. I reached the top of the incline and picked up my pace for the home stretch. Words returned to me, and I realized that was my wall.
The end of the run did not feel as triumphant as my 18-miler two weeks ago. Although my final mile felt strong, I was spent. I finished with a positive split second half (1:42:05/1:44:21). I was disappointed about falling off pace during the final 10 miles, but the overall pace was still within my goal range.
This is another step-down week before the Summer Un-Solstice Challenge on Aug. 15.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Flashback Friday: Hello, McFly?
I could hear Huey Lewis singing in my head as I loped along slowly back home after an epic defeat at the track. My defeat.
I returned to 800-meter intervals for the first time in a month, when I was running 800s in the 3:45 range. After all my 400s since then, I knew I was faster and ambitiously set my goal at 3:20 per 800. Period, I said.
Seriously?
I cruised around for the first interval, nailing it. But I knew I was in trouble. The next 800 was seven seconds slower. I couldn't control my breath, and it destroyed my pacing. The final two intervals were consistent, but 12 seconds slower than my first.
By the time I finished, I felt as if I had been whisked into the past at 88 miles per hour. What was I, a first-timer? Why wasn't I hitting my times? I gotta get back in time.
My next attempt at 800s will be in two weeks, as I alternate speed work between 400s and 800s. By then, I hope I'm back to the future.
And now the statistical rundown:
This was a rough outing. So what happened?
Perhaps the heat and humidity got to me. Or perhaps the wimpy, but fast two-miler yesterday morning wore on me. Or perhaps I set my speed goal too high. Or perhaps I screwed up my pacing by running the first lap like a 400-meter interval, blowing up my second lap. Running too fast: a typical rookie mistake.
Or I have this theory: I was running too far. The track I typically run at gets a huge puddle at one curve after a rain, which it did in buckets Wednesday. This puddle usually forces me into Lane 4. Not a problem if I'm running 400 meters, because the staggered start and finish lines compensate for the added distance from the inside lane to the outer lanes. However, I did not consider that if I stay in the fourth lane for the second 400 meters and use the same finish line, I am running farther than 800 meters.
Duh. Hello, anybody home?
I probably should have known this prior to yesterday. This is how I ran 800s in the past, sticking to my one lane, not considering the extra distance. So maybe those weren't FAILs above (or in the past). But I'll leave them there for your amusement.
Are there markings for 800 meters in outer lanes? Tracks have all those esoteric lines and triangles, and I have no idea what they're supposed to mean.
Back Talk
Wherein I don't bother think of anything clever to describe Back Talk.
Dr. Nic thinks I should be more careful with my words: "Did the Laphroaig come before the trip to Dick's, as written? If so ... I think you should have included a disclaimer to only drink that kind of alcohol before driving if you're a board-certified member of the BHI."
Answer: If you're following my example, you have bigger problems.
Happy Hour is nearly upon us, teammates. Have a finely brewed weekend and good luck to you racers out there. Run well and drink well. Cheers!
Now make like a tree and get out of here ...
I returned to 800-meter intervals for the first time in a month, when I was running 800s in the 3:45 range. After all my 400s since then, I knew I was faster and ambitiously set my goal at 3:20 per 800. Period, I said.
Seriously?
I cruised around for the first interval, nailing it. But I knew I was in trouble. The next 800 was seven seconds slower. I couldn't control my breath, and it destroyed my pacing. The final two intervals were consistent, but 12 seconds slower than my first.
By the time I finished, I felt as if I had been whisked into the past at 88 miles per hour. What was I, a first-timer? Why wasn't I hitting my times? I gotta get back in time.
My next attempt at 800s will be in two weeks, as I alternate speed work between 400s and 800s. By then, I hope I'm back to the future.
And now the statistical rundown:
- Intervals:
4 x 800 meters - Goal pace: 3:20 or less per interval (6:42 per mile)
- Lap 1: 3:19.1 (6:40 per mile)
- Lap 2: 3:26.53 (6:54 per mile) FAIL
- Lap 3: 3:31.5 (7:04 per mile) FAIL
- Lap 4: 3:31.96 (7:04 per mile) FAIL
- Average pace: 6:56 per mile
- Total distance: 4.7 miles
This was a rough outing. So what happened?
Perhaps the heat and humidity got to me. Or perhaps the wimpy, but fast two-miler yesterday morning wore on me. Or perhaps I set my speed goal too high. Or perhaps I screwed up my pacing by running the first lap like a 400-meter interval, blowing up my second lap. Running too fast: a typical rookie mistake.
Or I have this theory: I was running too far. The track I typically run at gets a huge puddle at one curve after a rain, which it did in buckets Wednesday. This puddle usually forces me into Lane 4. Not a problem if I'm running 400 meters, because the staggered start and finish lines compensate for the added distance from the inside lane to the outer lanes. However, I did not consider that if I stay in the fourth lane for the second 400 meters and use the same finish line, I am running farther than 800 meters.
Duh. Hello, anybody home?
I probably should have known this prior to yesterday. This is how I ran 800s in the past, sticking to my one lane, not considering the extra distance. So maybe those weren't FAILs above (or in the past). But I'll leave them there for your amusement.
Are there markings for 800 meters in outer lanes? Tracks have all those esoteric lines and triangles, and I have no idea what they're supposed to mean.
Back Talk
Wherein I don't bother think of anything clever to describe Back Talk.
Dr. Nic thinks I should be more careful with my words: "Did the Laphroaig come before the trip to Dick's, as written? If so ... I think you should have included a disclaimer to only drink that kind of alcohol before driving if you're a board-certified member of the BHI."
Answer: If you're following my example, you have bigger problems.
Happy Hour is nearly upon us, teammates. Have a finely brewed weekend and good luck to you racers out there. Run well and drink well. Cheers!
Now make like a tree and get out of here ...
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Returning to Form
While some people call me a wuss for sitting out the last couple weeks because of the weather, I am not the one who is now laid up with sickness and not running this week. I tallied another three miles last night at a semi-difficult pace to shake off the humiliation of Tuesday's last place effort. My pace was a minute and 10 seconds faster this go around.
It has been good to get back to consistent running. In the last four days my mileage has more than doubled for the month. The streets are mostly clear, and the snow on the sidewalks is now more manageable for running.
The temperatures have climbed above zero. And today the temperature is not only going to be positive, but -- my goodness! -- above freezing, well, almost. Close enough. You'd better believe I'm going to be out there again this evening.
It has been good to get back to consistent running. In the last four days my mileage has more than doubled for the month. The streets are mostly clear, and the snow on the sidewalks is now more manageable for running.
The temperatures have climbed above zero. And today the temperature is not only going to be positive, but -- my goodness! -- above freezing, well, almost. Close enough. You'd better believe I'm going to be out there again this evening.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Running Roulette: Track or Ice Rink?
You lose.Well, most of you lose.
Vanilla, you were over. Xenia, how about you eat some crow. Brooke, your lucky streak has ended. Nitmos, you might as well uncross your fingers; gambling just isn't your sport.
Your bets were unwisely placed. I fell not once last night during my snowy speed intervals. ("Speed" being used very loosely.) The thing I did do once was hit my goal pace range (3:38-3:48).
Note to self: Slippery surfaces are not conducive to fast running.
(Yes, Sarah, you told me so. You were right. But don't get too cocky. Even a broken clock is right twice a day.)
The only reader who had faith in my balance and coordination was TFH. The backhand of that compliment is that she called my planned 3 x 800 session a "sissy workout."
"You need the snow to make it worthwhile," she wrote.
Well, I guess then it was very worthwhile. There was plenty of snow. By the end of the second 800-meter interval, I was shaking off ice clumps from the bottoms of my shoes. I'll blame my slow splits on the added weight to my feet.
The Numbers:
- Intervals: 3 x 800 meters
- Lap 1: 3:46
- Lap 2: 3:51
- Lap 3: 4:03
- Falls: 0
- Totals: 3:53.3 average (7:49 pace); 4.2 miles (includes warm up, recovery laps and cool down)
But I never really thought I'd fall. Unlike you.
What most of you failed to remember was how I spent my youth playing ice hockey, which I only mentioned here, here, here and here.
I guess I've kept it pretty quiet.
The truth is I'm pretty stable on the ice. I started ice skating seriously when I was 8 years old. (See that? My ice-skating skills are legally allowed to drink.) The ice arena was my babysitter. It was also once my employer.
Skating to me is like riding a bike, more so than actually riding a bike. I might fall when there are a couple of leaves on the ground, but not so with ice.
And yes, Vava, this does mean I'm as sure-footed as a mountain goat. Ice doesn't faze me.
(Pause, to knock on wood.)
So, Marcy, to answer your question, the way I roll in the winter is indeed sans YakTrax or "whatever gripping dealy." I wear my regular running shoes. Nothing special.
I keep hearing about YakTrax, and I've been talking about screw-shoes for like a year now. In reality, I probably won't pursue either until I really bite it on the ice.
Question of the day: What is the Irony Score of running on an icy track that is behind an ice arena? What if said ice arena is the very same ice arena where I learned to ice skate?
I think J. Peterman would call that perfect irony.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Race Report: Double Negative
The Band-Aid Edition of the Towpath Marathon Race Report: I didn't break four hours, but I set a new PR, and I'm happy with that.
And now, the short story made long.
I Need a Medic!
The parking for the Towpath Marathon and the starting line were much farther apart than anticipated, about a quarter-mile. And of course, I was running late and therefore running there. However, I could have avoided this predicament.
Martini and I were walking toward the start at about 7:55 a.m., and the man in the golf cart was driving back and forth between the start and the parking area, yelling through a bull horn that the race was about to begin. Just then I realized I had forgotten to tape the nips.
For a moment I considered running without protection, but Martini brought me to my senses, which is a good thing because it wasn't pretty the last time I raced without taped nipples.
So, with only a few minutes to spare before race time, I jogged back to the parking area, where the ambulances were, to ask a paramedic for tape. Usually, I prefer to warm up during the first few miles of a marathon, but instead I warmed up running back to the start.
Some other runners asked me as I passed them, "How far away is the start?" I told them I had no idea.
Positive Split
I had somehow managed to convince Martini that the negative split was a good plan, so we planned to run together for as long as possible, keeping each other in check for the early, slow miles.
Oddly, my right ankle felt wonky for the first three miles, but I ran it out. Overall, I was in good spirits and feeling strong. We linked up with a young woman who had goals similar to mine ("I'd like to come in under four hours, but I'll be happy with 4:15," she said), and when we told her we were attempting a negative split race, she said, "That's what I do."
The three of us ran together for the next 10 miles, forming our own little pace group when two others latched onto us. We hit the halfway mark at 2:02, feeling good about our 9:20 per mile pace.
Doubly Positive
Our five-runner group started to break up at the next aid station. The experienced negative splitter dropped us when Martini and I walked to drink our water, and we in turn dropped the other two runners when we started up again.
Our negative split plan was predicated on the two-thirds rule. That is, we'd run comfortably for the first two-thirds of the race and then pick up the pace for the final third, at the 17th mile marker.
However, I started to fade before then. Part of the reason, I think, is because we started to pick up the pace a little too soon. While we ran the first half at a 9:20 pace, we started clocking consistent sub-9:10s immediately afterward. One of my fastest miles (at 9:00) was mile 15, which concluded at the site of the finish line, where the biggest crowd was. My cheering section, apparently, amped me up.
Martini started to separate from me just before our two-thirds mark. I saw him look back for me when he passed the marker, probably intending to say it was time to kick it up. He started to gain on the experienced negative splitter. Meanwhile, I started logging slower and slower miles.
Regrouping to Finish
My last sub-10:00 mile was the 18th at 9:38, but the next mile smashed me in the mouth. Mile 19 was my last sub-11:00 mile. I was starting to feel the wear and tear. Had I not decided to switch to Nitmos's War of Posts method, I probably would have been fine. But as it was, I saw my four-hour goal slip away.
However, I still had other goals and challenges to meet. And thankfully, I had my lucky PR charm at the race, and I knew that I'd set a new personal best if I just kept it together from point to point. Regardless, those last miles were a slog-fest.
From there, I did my best to stop focusing on the way my body felt. Instead, I started paying attention to the other runners.
Miles Per Character
The old man and the lean: I had passed him so long ago that I'm not sure what mile it was. But approaching the next mile marker, I heard a voice at my left ear. "Twenty miles and I finally passed someone," the old man said. He hobbled past me in the same leaning shuffle he'd been running with since I had passed him before. I wish I could tell you I regrouped to re-pass him, but chalk him up as another old-timer who's faster than I am.
Martini and the experienced negative splitter: After mile 21, I saw Martini again -- going the other direction -- and he had caught up to the young woman we were running with earlier. They looked strong and we exchanged motivational shouts. (Martini ended up finishing behind her but still under four hours.)
Delusional first-timer: On the final leg of the marathon, with about 3.5 miles to go, I passed a young man walking. I must have motivated him to run again because he crept up behind me, and I heard him chirp, "Don't worry, man. We got this." I think those words were more for him than for me, but I kept up the conversation. He was running his first marathon and was a student at my alma mater. He asked what my goal was, and I told him four hours, but I'd be happy with 4:25. "And I think we're on a good pace to beat that," I added. He agreed and said, "Yeah, I think we're doing about a 3:50." I didn't have the heart to tell him that we'd be lucky to hit 4:10, which I was still on pace for at that time. Soon aferward, he fell behind.
A slower old-timer for once: Around mile 24, I came upon a older man who kept alternating running and walking, running and walking. As I came alongside him, he looked at his watch and said, "I'm supposed to be finishing right now. I don't think I'm doing too good." I told him he was doing great and to stop worrying. Apparently, I was Mr. Motivational again. He started running to pass me, and then I passed him as he slowed down to a walk. He refused to stay passed, but after a few more attempts to stay ahead of me, he fell behind for good.
To the Beer Tent!
I managed to pass a few more people before the finish, which makes me feel like the negative split is possible. (Take note, Vanilla.) I just need to practice it more.
One nice thing about a small race is the announcer has time to look up your number and call out your name. I crossed the finish with 4:23-something on the clock, and didn't stop my watch until 4:24:16. I'm still awaiting official chip-time results. Either way, it's a new PR.
I walked around in a daze for a few minutes. I had managed to keep running for a lot more of this marathon than my previous two. I felt the slight tinge of disappointment for not hitting my ultimate goal, but then let it wash away as I considered the race and the goals and challenges I had set for myself.
Goals:
All in all, I'm happy I ran the Towpath Marathon. It was a nice race and well-organized. However, I'm not sure I'll do it again. (Certainly not if I run a marathon two weeks before.) The out-and-back course got really crowded near the the turnarounds and the finish area was a bit jumbled. But it's a very nice small race with a very scenic route. The volunteers were great and the spectators, though few in number, were mighty in spirit.
Thank you, everyone who dropped by to wish me luck for this weekend. Cheers!
And now, the short story made long.
I Need a Medic!
The parking for the Towpath Marathon and the starting line were much farther apart than anticipated, about a quarter-mile. And of course, I was running late and therefore running there. However, I could have avoided this predicament.
Martini and I were walking toward the start at about 7:55 a.m., and the man in the golf cart was driving back and forth between the start and the parking area, yelling through a bull horn that the race was about to begin. Just then I realized I had forgotten to tape the nips.
For a moment I considered running without protection, but Martini brought me to my senses, which is a good thing because it wasn't pretty the last time I raced without taped nipples.
So, with only a few minutes to spare before race time, I jogged back to the parking area, where the ambulances were, to ask a paramedic for tape. Usually, I prefer to warm up during the first few miles of a marathon, but instead I warmed up running back to the start.
Some other runners asked me as I passed them, "How far away is the start?" I told them I had no idea.
Positive Split
I had somehow managed to convince Martini that the negative split was a good plan, so we planned to run together for as long as possible, keeping each other in check for the early, slow miles.
Oddly, my right ankle felt wonky for the first three miles, but I ran it out. Overall, I was in good spirits and feeling strong. We linked up with a young woman who had goals similar to mine ("I'd like to come in under four hours, but I'll be happy with 4:15," she said), and when we told her we were attempting a negative split race, she said, "That's what I do."
The three of us ran together for the next 10 miles, forming our own little pace group when two others latched onto us. We hit the halfway mark at 2:02, feeling good about our 9:20 per mile pace.
Doubly Positive
Our five-runner group started to break up at the next aid station. The experienced negative splitter dropped us when Martini and I walked to drink our water, and we in turn dropped the other two runners when we started up again.
Our negative split plan was predicated on the two-thirds rule. That is, we'd run comfortably for the first two-thirds of the race and then pick up the pace for the final third, at the 17th mile marker.
However, I started to fade before then. Part of the reason, I think, is because we started to pick up the pace a little too soon. While we ran the first half at a 9:20 pace, we started clocking consistent sub-9:10s immediately afterward. One of my fastest miles (at 9:00) was mile 15, which concluded at the site of the finish line, where the biggest crowd was. My cheering section, apparently, amped me up.
Martini started to separate from me just before our two-thirds mark. I saw him look back for me when he passed the marker, probably intending to say it was time to kick it up. He started to gain on the experienced negative splitter. Meanwhile, I started logging slower and slower miles.
Regrouping to Finish
My last sub-10:00 mile was the 18th at 9:38, but the next mile smashed me in the mouth. Mile 19 was my last sub-11:00 mile. I was starting to feel the wear and tear. Had I not decided to switch to Nitmos's War of Posts method, I probably would have been fine. But as it was, I saw my four-hour goal slip away.
However, I still had other goals and challenges to meet. And thankfully, I had my lucky PR charm at the race, and I knew that I'd set a new personal best if I just kept it together from point to point. Regardless, those last miles were a slog-fest.
From there, I did my best to stop focusing on the way my body felt. Instead, I started paying attention to the other runners.
Miles Per Character
The old man and the lean: I had passed him so long ago that I'm not sure what mile it was. But approaching the next mile marker, I heard a voice at my left ear. "Twenty miles and I finally passed someone," the old man said. He hobbled past me in the same leaning shuffle he'd been running with since I had passed him before. I wish I could tell you I regrouped to re-pass him, but chalk him up as another old-timer who's faster than I am.
Martini and the experienced negative splitter: After mile 21, I saw Martini again -- going the other direction -- and he had caught up to the young woman we were running with earlier. They looked strong and we exchanged motivational shouts. (Martini ended up finishing behind her but still under four hours.)
Delusional first-timer: On the final leg of the marathon, with about 3.5 miles to go, I passed a young man walking. I must have motivated him to run again because he crept up behind me, and I heard him chirp, "Don't worry, man. We got this." I think those words were more for him than for me, but I kept up the conversation. He was running his first marathon and was a student at my alma mater. He asked what my goal was, and I told him four hours, but I'd be happy with 4:25. "And I think we're on a good pace to beat that," I added. He agreed and said, "Yeah, I think we're doing about a 3:50." I didn't have the heart to tell him that we'd be lucky to hit 4:10, which I was still on pace for at that time. Soon aferward, he fell behind.
A slower old-timer for once: Around mile 24, I came upon a older man who kept alternating running and walking, running and walking. As I came alongside him, he looked at his watch and said, "I'm supposed to be finishing right now. I don't think I'm doing too good." I told him he was doing great and to stop worrying. Apparently, I was Mr. Motivational again. He started running to pass me, and then I passed him as he slowed down to a walk. He refused to stay passed, but after a few more attempts to stay ahead of me, he fell behind for good.
To the Beer Tent!
I managed to pass a few more people before the finish, which makes me feel like the negative split is possible. (Take note, Vanilla.) I just need to practice it more.
One nice thing about a small race is the announcer has time to look up your number and call out your name. I crossed the finish with 4:23-something on the clock, and didn't stop my watch until 4:24:16. I'm still awaiting official chip-time results. Either way, it's a new PR.
I walked around in a daze for a few minutes. I had managed to keep running for a lot more of this marathon than my previous two. I felt the slight tinge of disappointment for not hitting my ultimate goal, but then let it wash away as I considered the race and the goals and challenges I had set for myself.
Goals:
- Break four hours: Not this time. Result: FAIL!
- PR: I held it together. Result: Success
- Find a race strategy that works for me: I had more in the tank during those final few miles than I had in my previous Akron experiences. Martini's success and meeting someone else who was using the negative split approach and succeeded in her goals makes me feel like I too can pull it off with some more practice. Result: Success
- Enjoy another run in the park: The Towpath is usually very nice, but this weekend the leaves were in full color-change mode. Those trees were beautiful. Maybe too beautiful. In fact, they probably slowed me down! Bastards! But I guess it was a nice run. Result: Success
- Leggo my ego: As soon as I knew four hours was out of reach, I let it go and regrouped to acheive my next time goal. Result: Success
- Run the best race possible: I PR-ed didn't I? Result: Success
- Be satisfied with the result no matter the number: I admit I had some feelings of disappointment at the end, but I quickly got over it. I took comfort in the fact that I've now PR-ed at every distance I've raced this year. Result: Success
All in all, I'm happy I ran the Towpath Marathon. It was a nice race and well-organized. However, I'm not sure I'll do it again. (Certainly not if I run a marathon two weeks before.) The out-and-back course got really crowded near the the turnarounds and the finish area was a bit jumbled. But it's a very nice small race with a very scenic route. The volunteers were great and the spectators, though few in number, were mighty in spirit.
Thank you, everyone who dropped by to wish me luck for this weekend. Cheers!
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