The Mile-a-Day Challenge: What I Learned.

During the 2013 holiday season, I decided to take on a new challenge to shake things up a little.  I knew I wanted to focus on running through the winter, but it is difficult to stay motivated to hit the treadmill, even with a race on the horizon.  So I stumbled across the Mile-a-Day Challenge by Runner's World.  Runners simply commit to run at least one mile, every single day, from Thanksgiving through New Year.

I started a little before Thanksgiving, just to make sure I could handle back-to-back days.  Historically, I have usually taken a day off between runs, or I have run two days in a row only about once a week.  so I maintained consistent weekly mileage -- about 20 miles -- and reduced the distance of my (now) daily runs.  I was pleasantly surprised by the results, and I actually kept up my streak for 45 straight days.  Along the way, I learned a few things:

1. Running every day improved my resilience and shortened my recovery times.  I never would have tried running the day after an 8K race, but once I got started, I ran two miles that day. 

2. Running every day creates some awkward social situations.  For example, one day I could only run in the morning at the office, and I had forgotten to pack a running shirt.  Since the treadmill is in a very public place, I had to choose -- run shirtless or run with my winter coat on?  I ran a mile in my winter coat.  I got plenty of funny looks.  And I probably lost 3 pounds in sweat.

3. Running every day was a real boost to my self-confidence.  The daily endorphin rush, whether in the morning or at 10pm (which happened from time to time), seemed to improve my focus and my drive for everything else going on.

4. The treadmill became both my salvation and my prison warden.  I would have preferred running outside every day, but there is something very simple and clean about trotting down to the basement, quickly changing into my running clothes, and running a mile or two at a specific speed.  No rain, snow, cars, or other things to interrupt me.  Just me and my heart rate.

5. I got to know a few new treadmill friends along the way.  One of my favorites is the $6,000 Woodway treadmill.  I love this machine like a brother.  The Woodway has rubber plates that spin like the track on an overturned tank.  It feels like I'm running on a hard-packed dirt path, and the machine is totally quiet.  If I had a spare 6 grand, I would bring one of these home.  But for now, my Fairfax County taxes are paying for a few of them around the county in REC Centers.  Now if they could only put a TV screen on these monsters, my two-hour runs might be even more appealing.

Here is the track.  It's as comfortable as any surface I've run on.

6. Most importantly, running a mile a day (and usually more miles than that) gave me the confidence that I could successfully train for a marathon again.  I might have one or two more long-distance races left in these knees after all.

Race Report: 2014 Dahlgren Trail Half-Marathon

Official Time: 1:32:12.  Rank: 4th Overall, 1st among men 30-39.

I have a history of talking myself into running faster in races than I should.  I've said it before: There are no "B-Priority" Races.  My original interest in this trail half-marathon was born of pure laziness -- I was supposed to run 18 miles per the marathon plan.  The Rock & Roll Marathon is only 3 weeks away, after all.  But I told myself that if I ran a half-marathon "a bit faster," maybe 7:30-7:45/mi, I could count it for the long, slow run (which would have likely been on a treadmill again, thanks to the snow & cold temperatures lately).  And I've been training for three months without anything resembling a race.  And most importantly, I couldn't stand the thought of another treadmill mile, so I drove to Fredericksburg, telling myself that this would be a fun trail run.

The trail running crowd is distinctly hardcore.  You won't find a lot of skinny college athletes at these races, and the start line food included many boxes of Krispy Kremes.  The atmosphere is much more relaxed, but these people are still serious racers.  A few Ironman hats & shirts, a few gnarly biker scars on their legs, and more tattoos than a roller derby team.

The race organizers advertised cash prizes up to $100 for the top 5 men and top 5 women.  The only catch is that "Cash Runners" must line up in the first corral.  Everyone else simply lines up with their own age group in a later wave.  I was planning on running with the 30-39 age group, which I figured would challenge me to run a little faster than my treadmill pace, but I didn't see any reason to turn myself inside out to win anything.

But that all changed when the organizer called for the first corral.  There were only three men who stood at the line.  Three.  I thought about it very briefly -- I wasn't in the mood to run hard, but if there were only 3 or 4 men in that corral, my chances of achieving top 5 were pretty good.  I stepped into the corral, handed over my card, and said, "I'll take your money!" 

And then about 10 more guys stepped into the corral behind me, probably with the same thought.  Before I knew it, the starting gun fired, and I was running with the Cash Runners.

I ran with the flow for the first mile (7:02), then assessed my position.  I was in 8th place among men.  8th.  And only the top 5 get any money.  At this point, I was really cursing myself.  Why didn't I start with the age-groupers?  Now I was in a pack of money-grubbers trying only to edge each other out of the limited prize money.  And I was already out of the running.  And I was running way faster than I had intended.  So I determined to maintain contact with the leading group (running 7:00/mi pace), and see how I felt for the second half.  If I pooped out, I could coast to the finish.

About the trail -- it was a beautiful, flat trail that was partly on an old railroad track, and partly the remnants of a service road that ran next to the track.  I love the inconsistency of trail running, even though the injury risk is higher and the pace is necessarily slower.  Sometimes I was stumbling over buried railroad ties, and other times I was hopping over pieces of track.  In a few spots, there was still snow and ice on the trail or other debris that slowed the runners down.  One of my favorite things about the race -- for the first 200 meters, there was a hand-pump cart with a couple of train enthusiasts rolling alongside the runners. 

This race season, I'm serving as an ambassador for SunRype.  They send me lots of free goodies to hand out to my friends, and I wear their clothing in races.  So I've had to alter my "money shots" to ensure that the sponsor logo is prominently displayed.  Here I am about 3 miles in, running about 6th place. 

At the turnaround, I took a quick sip of Gatorade, and set my sights on 5th place.  If I'm going to run with the Cash Crowd, I'm going to get paid!  As I made my way past 5th place (who ran the whole race shirtless, by the way), I could see that he was counting the runners as well.  I could hear the dollar signs ringing in his ears quietly die off.

I kept 4th place in my sights, lingering about 15 seconds behind him for a couple of miles.  With about 2 miles to go, I decided to pass him, and I hoped that he didn't have a strong finishing kick.  Although I've been training for marathon distance, I certainly haven't been training at a 7:00/mi pace.  He ran with me for a few hundred meters, but eventually he slacked off.

A podium finish?  It was possible -- I turned up the pace significantly in the last mile -- around 6:45/mi.  But as soon as I came within 5 seconds of 3rd place, he heard me and turned up his pace.  A lot.  By the finish, he had beaten me by a solid 40 seconds.

Here I am coming across the finish line in 4th place overall, and 1st in the 30-39 men age group.  (And that ranking held up even when the age group net times were added in.)  So I finished on the podium after all (for my age group, at least), and I won back my race entry fee.  Yay!

And what else?  A new "old man" PR for a half-marathon.  Given that it was a trail run where I typically run a little slower, and according to the Garmin, it was actually 13.18mi, this gives me hope that I can beat 1:30 at some point.

And the finish line money shot ...

I'm guessing this will be one of the favorite medals on our Christmas tree (because Emory quickly took it off my hands and made it disappear for a couple of days).

The highlight of my day?  Genevieve and Emory created a huge welcome home banner for me that included doodles of all major holidays.  Because why not?  I was already on cloud 9 for the podium finish and the PR, but this was really fun.

Next up?  Marathon.  Yes, I'm committed to the full distance, provided my feet hold up.  But this was a great unofficial start to the 2014 season.