Category: Uncategorized

One week out from the Luray International Triathlon.  Let’s start here: my training has not been up to my usual standard of consistency or performance.  At this point though, not much I can do except ready myself mentally, try to go through a strong pre-race-week routine (hydrate!  stretch! don’t overeat!) and hope for the best.  I’ve settled on switching my category at the packet pickup from the “age group” to the “novice” segment, which seems okay for my first time in a non-running race.

I won’t lie though, my anxiety level is higher than it has been for any race I’ve done since my first marathon.  There’s just so much more ‘stuff’ needed for a triathlon.  It’s all a bit overwhelming.  We’re camping the night before, so I also need to think through my packing list for the race.  Here’s my list (culled from other websites aimed at newbies).  I’ve marked with an asterisk things that I would normally take for a running race.

Pre-RUN GEAR LIST

• Sweatshirt*
• Water bottle*
• Liquid Bandaid* (pre-race nipple treatment)
• Baby Powder
• Glide*
• Vitamins*
• Breakfast (granola bar or something)*
• Participants Guide Printed Out
• Race numbers, timing chip, etc. (provided in packet)
• Floor Pump

Swim Leg

• Goggles
• Cap (provided in packet)
• Towel
• Water tray for feet
• [I’m going without a wetsuit]

Bike Leg

• Bike
• Helmet
• Gloves
• Water Bottle (with gatorade or something in it)
• Spare tube/levers
• CO2 Cannister/pump
• Glasses*
• Running Shoes** (I don’t yet use clipless pedals…watch be blow up the second transition!)
• Socks** (make sure there’s two!)

**Note THAT these things would normally ALREADY be on my body for most running races, so I wouldn’t have to worry about them.

Run Leg

• Belt (for number)*
• Cap*
• Gels*

 

We all have our peak time of day (or night).  It’s that moment when you feel most awake–at your sharpest.  For me, that time starts at about 9:00 AM.  I’m usually an early riser (up by 5:00), so that’s about 4 hours after I get up.  Not ideal for someone who likes to work out in the morning, but I get by.

This poses a particular challenge on race day as I have no control over the start time and, as you probably know, most races start early in the morning to avoid the later-day heat and to return the roads back to civilization as soon as possible.  For a 7AM start, I’m up by 4, so at least I can get 3 waking hours in before the gun goes off.

My question is whether I can train myself to sleep in later, and run as well on less pre-race awake time?  I’ve read that baseball players, playing mostly night games these days, are thrown off by the unroutine timelines of day games.  Of course, one of the sources is Kerry Wood, who blames the day games at Wrigley Field for why “the Cubs always lose.”  Um, yeah.  Sure.

So if ballplayers can be trained to perform late at night, which is somewhat unnatural behavior for a diurnal species, perhaps runners can train themselves to perform at their best earlier, moving their peak time up in the day.

This somewhat dated article suggests it would be a fight against human nature.  According to (albeit limited) study in this area, our peak exercise time is between 3 and 6 pm based on the normal rhythms of the day (and after a 2pm nap, which I could be down with).  I’d love to test this theory, but with work and kids occupying most of my normal daytime hours (and most early evenings), it ain’t gonna happen.

For my next trail run later this month, I’m going to try shifting my sleep time up so that 4:30 AM feels more like 7:00 AM.  Maybe then 8AM will feel more like noon and I’ll be closer to my peak?  Worth a shot maybe.

Once upon a time, I really only had one goal with my running:  to get into some kind of decent physical shape and complete a marathon.  I’ve overcome the initial motivational challenges of just getting going, injuries (major and minor), and now feel like I’ve pretty much gotten there.  Not really exactly where I want to be physically–is anyone really there?, but close enough that I can probably put a flag in it and call it mission accomplished.  My first marathon was in 2010.

Once I got through that, it was on to the next marathon, but like most multi-marathon runners I know, there’s a rhyme or reason to how races are selected:  geographies, variety, quality of medals, race ‘speed,’ all perfectly valid criteria.

For me, I started combining racing with travel destinations that my wife and I would both like to visit.  After all, if I’m going to spend hours out of the house running, the least I can do is thank my wife by taking her on a nice trip somewhere.  That’s how Easter Island and Chicago got on the calendar.

Then, earlier this year, I completed my first sub-4:00 marathon.  In fact, it was my first sub-3:30 marathon.  This September, a Boston-qualifying time probably comes into the realm of possibility as I fall into the next age group and ‘only’ need to come in under 3:25 (plus a margin under that of 2-3 minutes to be sure).

So there’s a number of goals on my plate:

• Seven Continents:  Having completed the Americas, Europe and Africa, only Asia, Australia and Antarctica remain.  Definitely looking at Tokyo (Asia), Gold Coast (Australia) and the 2020 Antarctica Marathon.  This is the most finite of the goals, which is a plus, but these take the most planning and money–a serious encumberance.  [On an aside, there’s a bit of discussion about whether New Zealand counts as it’s own Continent, making the challenge “8 Continents” instead of 7.  My position on this is to let Football Confederations be the guide, where they exist (sorry Antarctica!).  Until NZ breaks away from Oceana, it’s part of Australia for the purposes of this challenge.]
• Six So-Called ‘Majors:’ Chicago, London, Berlin are done.  Only New York (denied by the lottery for the third straight year!), Tokyo and Boston remain.  I will run all three of those, so it’s just a matter of when.  Again, a pretty finite goal, though getting to Boston requires either qualifying or raising a ton of money for charities that I’m not really passionate about (I’ve reviewed the list). Tokyo is an expensive marathon too due to the travel costs and time commitment.
• Qualify for Boston:  I’d really like to find a flat, fast course in the Fall or Spring for this, to see if I can get into the 2019 race.  This is a solid goal and is relatively cheap.  It probably requires more dedicated focus than I have at the moment (as evidenced by this list).  I probably need to put all my attention on the Fall race season, finding a flat, fast course, so that the Spring season becomes by backup plan. So that’s two marathons that I might not otherwise choose (Sacramento? Phoenix?) for the chance of Boston.  Going to be a tough sell to the Mrs.
• 50 States:  This one is probably out of reach for me.  There’s just a lot of States and I’m not the kind of runner who can run marathons on successive weekends–even slowly.  4/year is probably all my body can safely handle if they’re timed right.  I’m no mathematician, but with only 4 done, it would take me 12 years to get there if I abandon my other goals.  Still, it’s tempting to try and pick races in States I haven’t run yet–particularly if I look at Boston qualifying and am picking two races based purely on speed.

Not sure which direction I’m going in yet, but have to get my first triathlon out of the way first (next month) before I even get moving on any of these.  Only driver for bringing this up is that it’s registration season for Fall and Spring (even a bit late for Fall).

This is a spectacular event.  The ‘Festival’ includes a 5k on Saturday morning, followed by three separate categories–marathon, half-marathon and 10k on Sunday all run simultaneously.  It’s relatively flat, cool, and well-run.  Not a huge spectator turnout, but for the chance to run down the Rehoboth Boardwalk (twice) and to barrel through a beautiful State park…it’s wonderful.  It’s THE race for those looking to tick Delaware off of their 50-State challenge list.

There’s races for fun, and races for time.  You have to know which is which going into it as the planning and mindset are totally different during the weeks before the race and the start prep.  This was to be a fun race; it was a chance for my family to come to Rehoboth Beach a bit before the season starts to just enjoy it without all the hubbub of Funland and the craziness of the crowds.  Unfortunately, the elementary school talent show was scheduled for the same weekend, so it went from a nice family weekend to a ‘dad goes to the beach by himself for a weekend’ weekend.

Probably best that way in hindsight, as Rehoboth off-season is a shadow of Rehoboth in-season.  Very few things are open, it was chilly and damp, so the beach wasn’t really an option, and we were in a hotel instead of our usual condo, so space was a bit limited.  Even the hotel pool was cold (it never dawned on me that it wasn’t heated, warm as it is during the Summer).

In any case the race would go on, and I was running it as my Spring marathon.  Registration was flawless, and I decided to enter both the marathon and the 5k as a warm-up race the day before.  Normally, I’ll run an easy 5-10k before a marathon to loosen everything up, so this was on-schedule.  The weather forecast was daunting: 50 degree highs and heavy rain forecasted all weekend.  Yuck.

Saturday morning was indeed rainy as I made my way from Rehoboth to Dewey, a 10 minute drive.  The bib pick up and expo were in a small conference center off of Route 1 and was quick and efficient.  On a side note, the expo had a few interesting vendors and I managed to pick up two pairs of trainers in my style and size for half-price.  Both were slightly used (part of their return policy), but couldn’t pass them up.  The only downside is that I couldn’t either get a refund or transfer the marathon ‘after-party’ pass I purchased for the Mrs. They were strict on ID there and then and a wristband that we’d have to wear for 24 hours.  Wish there was another way.

The rain stopped briefly for the 5k.  ‘Don’t run hard,’ I kept telling myself.  ‘This is just a warm-up run.’ Dammit.  I got caught up in the excitement of the start.  It was chip-timed, and really came off like a very professionally run race (which it was).  Also, you start out and make a left turn 50 yards after the start.  It seemed very treacherous after the rain as everything was wet, water had pooled there, and I had slipped on the road striping on my way to the start.  Finally, I told myself to run the first mile, then back off and coast through the last two.

If it hasn’t come through in this blog yet, this is proof that I’m an idiot.  I shot out of the start like a cannon.  First mile was 5:40.  The race has a turnaround at the midway point, so I could see who was in front of me.  I hit the turn at 9:34 and there couldn’t have been more than 10 people in front of me at that turn, so I kept going.  Second mile, 6:00.  My legs were starting to feel it, but damn, I was in the front group and there were prizes for the top three in each age group.  Screw it…keep running hard.  Final chip time was 19:59–my first sub-20-minute 5k (yes barely, but it still counts!).  Gun time was 20:08 (which was due to a wheelchair racer getting a 10-second head start on the field.

They had a brief award ceremony and I was chuffed to learn that I had WON the Male Masters (over 40) category.  My first running win in any category ever.  I took home a nice trophy, a glass window (sun-catcher) medallion, and the race medal.

Next challenge was how to find a one-day recovery so that tomorrow wouldn’t be awful.  Started off with a light swim in the hotel’s freezing pool, then a hot shower, stretching and nap.  It was a very easy Saturday of reading, watching Lionel Messi dominate the El Classico, and having some sensible meals.

Sunday morning came early and it was pouring when I left the room.  This was not going to be a good day if this kept up.  Temperature was in the 40s, which was chilly, but the rain, oh boy.  I don’t love running in the rain.  Much of the course is trail-based (crushed stone), so I pictured it being a muddy mess too.

The start line was about 5 miles away from the finish, so they had shuttle busses to get you there.  Well coordinated…plenty of space. The start itself was freezing.  While the rain had stopped, it was on an exposed coastal lot, and the cold wind was howling.  We were freezing our asses off, huddled around the down-wind side of a WWII-era guard tower (the namesake of the Tower Challenge, which is a separate prize for completing the 5k and Marathon).  There was a “VIP Package” option available during registration that gave you access to the inside bathrooms and lounge area.  This is the only time I’ve ever regretted not springing for that.  It was that cold.  I’d planned on ditching my jacket, but no way Jose…it was staying put.  I was wishing I had gloves too.

The start was very laid back. No real waves as there were under 750 marathoners (the half-marathon group went out a half-hour or so later).  There were pacers, which was a nice touch.  I decided to stick myself in between the 3:30 and 3:45 pacers with the plan that I’d start with the front group and end with the back.  After the 5k the day before, my expectations were low.

We started out down the driveway from the park area and made a quick turn onto Route 1.  The road wasn’t closed, but a lane was, so there was ample room on the right side of the road for us.  I never felt in danger in any way, and though we were a bit tight for the first mile or so, it opened up quickly.  We were only on Route 1 for 1.75 miles before heading into Rehoboth and toward the boardwalk.

The boardwalk run was a trip.  Having spent each of the last 10 or so summers there, it was fun to run past all of the landmarks.  A good crowd had come out in the early morning, so there was excellent support.  It had warmed up enough that I had planned to strip off my jacket at the end of the boardwalk (unsheltered from the coastal wind) and either tie it around my waist or even leave it near my hotel to pick up later.

As we headed into the Gordon’s Pond area, a path I’ve run numerous times on holiday, I was feeling surprisingly strong.  To use this race to qualify for Boston, I would have to run under 7:20 per mile.  I was right there at each split:  7:18, 7:12, 7:13, 7:14.

At the half-way point, which is near Lewes, Delaware, I was in excellent shape with a 1:34 time and a 7:14 average per-mile split.  That stretch is probably the toughest on the course, as there’s a steady climb over the bridge for the Intercoastal Waterway near the Lewes Ferry dock.  No cover from the wind, no cover from the sun (and the sun had peeked out at this point).  It wasn’t even very scenic. Just a slog up the hill.  I was determined, at that point, to keep going as long as I could at that pace.

Mile 16 was the breaking point.  I felt my legs going and couldn’t sustain the earlier pace.  I slowed down massively to 8 minutes per mile, just hoping I could catch a second wind and not give up all of the extra time I had banked from my fast start.

The trip back down the boardwalk wasn’t as exhilarating as the trip out, though the crowd had grown and that part was pretty motivating.  From there, it’s back to Route 1 and a real battle to the finish.  This is where the prior day’s 5k really came back to bite me as I just had nothing left in the tank.  The only saving grace is that I never saw the 3:30 pacer, so I knew I was ahead of that pace.  If I could just beat him to the line, I’d be good.

Sure enough, I limped over the line at 3:27:27–shattering my PR by 30 minutes and giving me hope for a BQ at some point in my life.  In September, my qualifying time goes from under 3:15 to under 3:25, so this was close…had I already had a 3:25 target, I’m pretty sure I could have found the extra time here, but there was no way I was getting under 3:15 on this morning (and, for those who don’t know, you have to get considerably under the time to get into the race…usually about 2.5 minutes under as they take the fastest qualified runners in each age group).

The finish was at the 5k start, so there was a sharp right turn and 50 yards to the banner.  A good crowd had arrived at the end and I found the strength to run over the finish (always…where does that come from???).  I received my medals (finisher and challenge medal) and took part in the nice banquet-like spread, where I met some very nice fellow runners:  One couple in their 50s who were going for the 50-State challenge.  One guy who literally blanked out a mile from the end and was carried over the line by some spectators.  One woman who was devastated not to hit her BQ time, even though she had just run a race in Virginia Beach two weeks before (that’s not enough recovery time from a marathon btw).  One guy from New Jersey who was running his second marathon and was thrilled with his 4:45 time (yay!  happy for him!).  It was really the most social post-race thing I’ve ever been a part of, helped by the free beer, the fact that it was inside, and there were tables and chairs (and stools), which promoted socializing.

Overall, while I was a bit disappointed to have come so close to a BQ time, I was proud of my accomplishments on both days and felt like I had achieved the pinnacle of my fitness level after 7 years of training. It was one of the most gratifying sports-related weekends of my life.

One other bonus:  Free race photos.  Awesome.

Full points to Focus Multisports who put this race together.  It was very well organized, and will go down as one of my favorite races.  I highly recommend it for anyone looking for a Boston time in the Mid-Atlantic area–it’s what you’re looking for:  Fast, Flat, Cool, and well organized.  A no-stress trip to the beach for a run.

I suspect that most people who finish a marathon and start planning their second (or third, or fourth…) at some point set their sights on running the Boston Marathon.  There’s also a some debate about whether running Boston without qualifying (via charity bib) somehow cheapens the experience.

First of all, let’s dismiss that debate;  If you run a race because you were able to raise $1000s of dollars for a charity, then you have achieved a much more important impact than just qualifying for the race.  I’ve run on a charity bib once and found the experience rewarding, yet more draining than training. Qualifying for Boston helps nobody but you (and the races you helped support along the way).

That being said, I imagine the reward of qualifying for Boston carries a personal sense of accomplishment that is unmatched in the sport for most non-elites.

In my case, I’m definitely non-elite.  I’m in my 40s.  I’ve been running less than 10 years.  I have no real running foundation from my youth.  As posted elsewhere on this blog, I’ve still not crossed the 4-hour barrier in a marathon.

So why even talk about qualifying for Boston?  Well, a funny thing happened to me during my last race.

While the final time was somewhat out of the blue (a full 8-minutes faster than the 1:45 I was aiming for), I specifically changed my training program last year with the goal of getting faster:  More speed drills, more running at pace, more focus on nutrition (and weight loss), fewer running workouts (and more cross training) to ward off injury.  It all seems to have worked.

The trouble is, as recently as a month ago, I had pretty much dismissed the idea of ever qualifying for Boston.  Now I’ve run a sub-BQ pace for a half, so doing that for the full doesn’t seem completely out of the question, right?

[Incidentally, the 2018 BQ pace for me is 3:15, so I’m JUST under the cut for registration…and I know that the actual qualifiers have to run faster than that as they take you in time order, but at least I could apply.]

But how?  Despite the fact that I felt strong at the end and had no ill post-race effects (apart from a bit of GI-related issues…my post-race meal was a bad choice), there’s no way I could have continued at that pace for another 13.1.  I was probably 3-5 miles from cramping up.  Obviously lots of long runs ahead of me, but what else can I do to extend, extend, extend for another 1:37 or so.

What have others tried?  Is it just more of the same for longer, or is there some  change I need to make to keep the trend line rising?  How do I stop my legs from cramping up (the cardio engine is there for me).  Advice sought.  Let me know what worked for you.

Everyone training for a marathon is familiar with the long runs.  (If you don’t, they’re (hopefully) the reason your significant other disappears for 2-3 hours once a morning every weekend.  If that’s NOT the reason, then I’m sorry.  This is a terrible way to find out.)  The long runs are a weird, somewhat counter-intuitive workout, particularly for competitive people.  It defies human logic to train for a ‘race’ by just staying on your feet in motion for hours.  Surely you need to push yourself to get better, right?

Well, that’s not the case.  Post after post after post suggests that the long, slow run is best run S-L-O-W.  And by ‘slow,’ I mean very slow…tortoise slow…mind-numbingly slow.

I’m writing this blog as a form of confession:  I have always run my long runs too fast.

As a frame of reference, my most recent half marathon was run at a 7:25 min/mile pace (approx. 4:35 min/km) suggesting I could finish a marathon in under 4 hours at a stroll and could qualify for Boston if I could extend my half- pace for a full.  The reason I can’t do either at the moment comes down to endurance, which seems to come down to the quality of my long runs.

If you read through the posts above (or any of the 100+ pages that come up in a Google search for “long slow run,” it becomes evident that the science behind long runs being beneficial as a part of marathon training seems pretty much settled.  [Though there are some emerging alternative approaches out there.]  The length of those runs may vary, with some plans recommending runs up to 22-miles in prep, while others say that 18 is sufficient (nobody seems to recommend a full-marathon distance as a build-up to a marathon).  The science also seems settled around building up that distance over 16-20 weeks, with three weeks or so of rising mileage, followed by one ‘break’ week with a shorter long run to recover.

The biggest disagreement seems to circle around how fast to run your 18-22 miles in the build-up, though there is a consensus around SLOW.  The range seems to be anywhere from :30-:90 seconds slower than your race pace) or about 85% of your race pace,  70% off your race pace, to 50%.  This post even suggests just running by feel (using the force?).  I know…not helpful.

To get to the ‘right’ answer, it’s probably important to review the basics: what are the long runs supposed to do and not supposed to do:

In the “Supposed to Do” column: 

• Expand your aerobic foundation so that your body has the lungs to get through a marathon
• Simulate the time on your feet, in motion, to make the marathon seem less shocking to key muscle groups (this avoids cramping)
• Offer a rehearsal of sort to help test what nutrition program works, what shoes and socks feel good afterward, what clothes chafe, etc.

In the “Not Supposed to Do” column:

• Not finish the duration of the long run
• Break down muscle fibre (so you need recovery time days or weeks afterward)

That’s pretty much it. This puts me more and more into the “run by feel” category, but ensuring that I’m going darn slow at the start.  At my pace, I’m going to aim for an 8:45-9:00 pace at the start (first half), then pick up the pace a bit if I feel good.  Even at the faster pace, I won’t get below 8:15.  That’s the aim, anyway.

Of course, proof is on the road.  Went out last weekend for an 18-20-miler (2:45ish total time) and only got through 17 miles before calling it (actually, calling my wife to come fetch me in the minivan).  Too fast.  Darn.  This is harder than it sounds.  I’ll try again next weekend in the last long run before my April marathon.

I’ve posted already about my success in last weekend’s Rock n Roll DC Half-Marathon.  What I haven’t written about is how, one week out, the finish of that race still motivates me to get faster.  I decided to give it a week to see if I was still worked up about it.  It comes as no surprise to anyone who knows me, but I am.

How can I possibly be annoyed after smashing my PB and running a Boston Qualifying time (albeit at the Half)?  Here’s why: (@marathonfoto). (that’s my knee behind him)

[Quick side note:  I’ve had some great in-race photos taken by the good folks at Marathonfoto.  I think it’s a great service they provide and I’m glad that race directors have thought of inviting them out to capture the events.  That being said, their prices are obscene.  I completely agree with Ray Maker’s synopsis here on his DCrainmaker blog.  If there’s ever a race picture of me worthy of $30 or more, my assumption is that it’s in newspapers free of charge because I’ll have either broken some kind of record or committed some kind of crime along the way.]

Yes, despite running a 1:37, what irks me is that I was beat to the line by a hot dog.  A guy in a hot dog costume beat me to the finish.  Now, sure, my ‘net’ time was two minutes faster than his.  I’m sure he’s a lovely bloke. I applaud him running the full distance in a costume–love those folks! I didn’t even mind people yelling “go hot dog” for the last four miles (and I initially didn’t know why people were yelling that at me…hot dog costumes don’t look like much from behind).

What bothers me is that I realized, somewhere toward the end, that he was, in fact, dressed like a hot dog, and, knowing that, I still couldn’t catch him at the line.

I can’t get it out of my head.  I even tried having a hot dog for dinner and it didn’t help.  It’s not happening again.  Hot dog…you’re on notice.  I’m gunning for you.  If I see you at the CoDel Marathon, you’re going down.  I’m running even more miles in training.  I’m picking up my pace.  I’m sprinting the end of my workouts.  All in a quest to catch the hot dog.  Is it sane and rational, no.  Not in the least.

We all need to find motivation somewhere.  After 80 days of consecutive workouts (don’t break the chain!), there are days (many of them) when I get up and just don’t feel like lacing up the trainers and hitting the road.  It’s cold (still!), it’s dark (still!) and I’m tired.  That darn hot dog has kept me going this week.  So in many ways, I’m grateful mr. hot dog.

But that won’t stop me from pushing myself harder and beating you to the line if we ever cross again…maybe dressed like this.

I’ve been running seriously for about 7 years.  Before then, pretty much nothing.  I was somewhat athletic in high school, but never near the top in any of the many sports I played.  In college, I swam for a year for my (D3) school, but soon remembered that the only reason I was ever on a swim team was to play water polo and my college didn’t have that option.

I still remember my first ‘competitive’ race.  It was in 2000: the Spring Valley 5k through the toney neighborhood in Washington DC.  I couldn’t even finish it without stopping to catch my breath.  Literally, I stopped about two miles into a three-mile race to bring my heart-rate down.  I did the St. Patrick’s Day 10k later that Spring, but that was a disaster too and so ended my brief flirtation with running.  Or so I had thought.

Fast forward 10 years.  I was heavy, out of shape, and frustrated with my overall lack of fitness.  I had lost my father a few years earlier, way too young, and was determined to be there for my kids as long as possible.  I started running again.  I discovered adidas’ miCoach platform (since converting to Runtastic), and broke through the agony of my earlier competitive runs.

Yet with the emergence of fitness data and easier recording of your own data–not to mention easier comparison with others–the gulf between my own finish times and those of others was put into clear view.

When you set aside the ‘elite’ runners (a class all their own), there seemed to me to be two categories of recreational runner:  The ‘Runners’ and the ‘Plodders.’  The difference seems stark.  Runners look like they’re running.  They’re pushing themselves with every step and working hard to hit the tape at their desired time.  They have an awareness of the pace and are machine-like in their approach to every mile.

Plodders are trying to just get over the line.  Yes, Plodders care about time too, but Plodders are trying to maintain their training pace throughout the race distance and holding on to the finish.  Avoiding having to walk through part of the race is among the goals.

Since 2010, I’ve been a Plodder and I’ve been resigned to being a Plodder the rest of my life.  “I’m just not physically built for this,” or “it’s not in my DNA to go that fast” have been my common refrains.  There’s a sense that the Runners are the high-school track or cross country stars who are just wired for this stuff and the rest of us are just trying to fill in the race numbers.

Somewhat in an attempt to test this theory, I took most of last year off from distance running.  I ran the London Marathon in April (pretty much without training), and then didn’t run anything longer than a half-marathon the rest of the year.  Instead, I ran a few 10K trail races, and spent a lot of time on the track doing speed work (intervals and 1-hour pace runs).  I guess I felt like I was getting faster, but I wasn’t convinced until I started back into distance training in late-December.

The results have been startling.  My long slow run pace, traditionally in the 9:00-9:15 range, is now comfortably a minute faster.  My pace runs, which were in the 8:00 range per mile, are now in the 7:10-7:20 range.  This weekend, I completed the Rock n’ Roll DC Half-Marathon in 1:37:09, which translates into 7:25/mile pace (and I had to stop to retie a shoelace).  I finished in the top 500 of nearly 13,000 finishers.  It’s a Boston qualifying pace (assuming I could keep it up for another 13+ miles).  It’s the first time I’ve considered myself a member of the Runners group.

Lesson here is that there’s no great divide between the two.  I’m not saying anyone can make the jump, but the jump is there to be made with the right training program, some luck on the injury front, and dedication.

70 degrees on Saturday.  18 degrees on Sunday.  Bright sun, rain, or snow?  Spring races are a real pain to plan for when it comes to attire.  For a point of reference, here’s my local weather so far this month.

82 one day…32 a few days later.  Huge 30-degree swings in a single day.

Workout runs aren’t a huge deal.  At this point, I’m used to wearing layers and usually wear something with pockets so I can stash a hat and some gloves if I get too warm.

Races are a different ballgame.  First of all, there’s a LOT of waiting for the start; lots of time just standing around in the chute with hundreds (thousands?) of your friends shivering.  Then, once the gun goes off, accompanied by the ritual throwing of extra clothes into the people around you.

–public service announcement:  if you plan to discard clothes, trash bags, gel wrappers, water bottles, please start at the sides of the chute so you don’t hit or trip others…thank you.–

About a mile or so in, you’re warm and really wishing you weren’t wearing all those clothes, but you don’t want to weigh yourself down with pockets and sweatshirts tied around your waist.  At the finish, you’re cold again until you can get to your bag (or unless the race has foil blankets).

Here’s my approach.  It’s not perfect.  I’m not comfortable throughout the experience, but it gets me through.

Pre-race (all degrees F):

1. Sweatshirt (with hood if I’m not wearing a hat)*
2. Knit hat (if below 40), cap if above
3. Tights (long if below 35, short/compression if above)
4. Shorts
5. Long sweats (if below about 45)*
6. sleeveless shirt (base layer)
7. short sleeve shirt
8. Long sleeve shirt (lightweight
9. Gloves (if below 40)*
10.  Jacket*
11. Headphones*
12. Shoes and socks and running watch
13. Waistband (w phone, gels)

Starred things go in the checked bag pre-race.  I’m a straggler…I wait until the last possible moment to get rid of those things

So, if you’re doing the math, you’ve figured out that my race wear includes:

1. Knit hat (if below 40)
2. Tights
3. Shorts
4. Sleeveless shirt (base layer)
5. short sleeve shirt
6. Long sleeve shirt
7. Shoes, socks and running watch
8. Waistband (w phone, gels)

If I get warm, I can take the long sleeve shirt off and tie it around my waist.  I can tolerate my hat in my shorts pocket if it gets too hot.  If I’m still warm, I can lose the short-sleeve shirt and tuck it into my waist band.  If the weather turns colder (which HAS happened), I can put stuff back on.

At the finish, I go straight to my bag and get my warmer layers back on.  I sometimes bring a spare shirt or two to throw on after so it’s dry (don’t stand around wet…misery!).

It’s, by no means a perfect routine, but it has gotten me through.  What’s your strategy?

 

 

 

 

I didn’t run much growing up.  I played multiple sports that involved running, and I ran in gym class, but I can’t remember ever going out for a run.  In fact, the first time I remember really going out for a run for fitness was probably in the early 2000s.  Part of the motivation that day was receiving my first iPod–basically a white external, self-powered hard drive with a click-wheel.

In truth, while completely revolutionary, the original iPod wasn’t great for running.  This was before solid state storage was widely available in large storage sizes, and the internal traditional hard drive would skip all the time when I ran.  Still, the promise was there and it got me out the door and out on the road for miles; trying to smooth out my stride with every step to avoid the skipping.

Fast-Forward to 2010 and technology would come into play again.  I was determined to lose weight and regain my overall health.  I was determined to conquer the marathon and was fortunate, part-way through my training plan, to find adidas’ miCoach platform–an app-based training tool available for free on my iPhone 4.

Safe to say, it changed my life.  I became addicted to workout data.  How fast could I go?  How long could I run?  How high a ‘score’ could I get on the incorporated training runs?  How many miles could I run in a month or year?  There’s a rising back-lash against data at the moment, with a new “run by feel” movement starting to gain traction, but for me, the fact that I’ll have a record if I cut my workout short is enough to keep me going day after day.

From that day, I’ve accumulated a number of web sites that are my go-to for running-related data.  Here’s the list.  I’ll add to this as I find new sites that I spend time on.  Feel free to recommend others in the comments section.

Training Tools:

adidas miCoach: This is my anchor.  Still the best training plans and incorporated training/hardware solutions.  Even better, it’s free, it’s easy to use, and it’s really slick.  My training data goes here first before it goes elsewhere.  It’s going away in a year, so if you’re not on, you’ve missed out.  Not sure what my plan is for the EoL of the miCoach environment.

Runtastic: Just started with Runtastic, but I like the data and social elements.  I’ve gotten a few ‘cheers’ on my runs and like the way it presents the data.  It also automatically works with my Withings Body scale, which saves me a manual import step.

Strava:  I’ve started working cycling into my workout routine, and Strava is excellent at capturing bike data (as well as running).  I also like how Strava compares my runs with my own past runs and those of others along the same route.  It’s the only ‘premium’ site I pay for and, though much of it is redundant with Runtastic and miCoach, I find value in having the data tracked here too.  Strava links with the Withings scale too, but it runs through Apple Health and isn’t as seamless as I’d hope.

Zwift: If you have an indoor smart bike trainer and aren’t using Zwift, you’re missing out.  It’s crazy good.  Makes indoor cycling almost as good as outdoor cycling (better than outdoor when it’s freezing cold and dark outside).  Syncs automatically with Strava.

Withings: This is the website, but it’s really the scale and the app.  As a data-freak, I love that I step on the scale and it beams my info (including BMI) to my phone and my other apps.  I’ve never been as in touch (and frustrated) with my weight before, but I guess knowledge is power.

Running Tools

Coolrunning Pace Calculator: It’s really simple, but it’s my go-to calculator, enabling you to put in any two of race times, distances and pace and it calculates the third.  It’s exceptionally handy.

Running for Fitness Calculators:  Another set of calculators with previews of race paces, training zones, weight-impact-on-race-times, etc.  Good stuff.

Timeanddate.com: This isn’t really a running tool, but rather a cool site that allows you to figure out three things critical to any runner’s repertoire:  When will the sun come up/go down so I know if I need to wear lights? What is the time difference between home and the race location so I know how much acclimation time I’ll need to adjust?  How many days/weeks are there until race date?  This is critical for planning out the calendar.

AccuWeather.com: Somewhat self-explanatory.  Will it rain?  I rely on the ‘MinuteCast’ for this, which is pretty reliable (though not 100%).

Others

DC Rainmaker: Ray is the man.  Reviews the latest fitness tech.  Used to live in the DC area, but is now in Paris.  Worth a read before you buy anything.

ahotu Marathons: This is a very comprehensive listing of Marathons, Halfs and Ultras taking place worldwide.  Wonderfully searchable/filterable to find just the race you’re looking for, in just the right place, at just the right time of the year.  Worth registering to help build up this community.  It’s a pretty great resource.

Runners World Magazine: I was on the fence on including this.  First of all, I don’t subscribe (I know, #PressOn).  I find Runners World to be similar to Men’s Health and other faux fitness magazines that tend to cycle through the same six articles in every issue (Tackle your PR!  Recovery Secrets!  Perfect the Pace of your Long Run! Lose Weight by Running! You Need These Stretches!).  It’s basically click-bait for runners.  I DO subscribe to the daily digest, which has interesting stories about inspiring runners around the world.  Their shoe reviews are pretty comprehensive, but I sense a pay-for-play aspect to them (plus, shoes are religion for runners…once a runner finds one they like, they’ll never change).

Montgomery County Road Runners:  This is my local club.  If you run, join your local club.  They host cool events, they help advocate for trails, they help more and more people get off the couch and live more active lives.