800 miles for 2014

Since 2009, I have exceeded 600 running miles per year, every year. This year, because of the early-season Marathon and late-season Savageman, I managed to top 800 miles for the year. I am grateful that I am still healthy enough to run at all, let alone run 800 miles in a year. I do not take these things for granted.

November 4 training run

Not every training run has to be something spectacular. But some runs clearly are.

Race Report: 2014 Cherry Blossom Ten Mile Run

Stats: 1:07:27(6:44.6/mi pace), 580/17,747, 476/7199 among men, 70/1122 in age group. 

 I ran this race on 100% pure stubbornness. After completing the marathon, I took a week off running. But since Cherry Blossom was only three weeks after the marathon, I came back to running (painful as it was) to maintain my base fitness and to attempt to work some speed back into my runs. Normally I would like to take a couple of weeks off, but the Cherry Blossom 10-miler is such a fast, beautiful course, that I didn't want to show up with anything other than my best.

About 10 days before the race, I started getting sick. A cold turned into significant chest congestion that lasted a week. Still, I ran through the sickness and told myself that I would be healed by race day. Although I felt like I had mostly recovered by Friday/Saturday, the night before Cherry Blossom, I had a low-grade fever and seemed to be getting really sick again. Sunday morning, I decided that I would run the race anyway, and if the coughing fits got too intense, I would trot the ten miles at a slower pace. I knew it wouldn't be a PR day because my lungs were not a full capacity, but it's hard to show up to a race without giving it your full effort.

Prior to the race, I doped did everything I could to mask the symptoms. Mucinex D, Day-Quil, and several hits from an Albuterol inhaler. These were all remnants from my long-running sinus infection last July, during which I had to ask my doctor multiple times for an antibiotic. (Speaking of which, I find it frustratingly stupid that I can buy gallons and gallons of antibacterial, antibiotic hand soap at the grocery store, but when I want an ingestible antibiotic to get rid of real sickness, I have to practically beg or threaten my doctor for it. Should I resort to snorting hand soap?)

Owen and I renewed our 10-mile rivalry. I'm not sure that I would have run as hard without someone to shadow during the race. Whether that's a good thing or a bad thing, I'm not sure. The weather was perfect, the course was perfect as usual, and had I felt 100% in my lungs, it might have been a good race day. At the start, my goal was to maintain contact with Owen and try to keep miles under 7 minutes. I had a few painful coughing fits early on, but my legs felt relatively fresh. It's amazing how much effort you can shift between your body's various systems. In some races, I have leaned on my heart and lungs when my legs are weak. This race, I leaned almost entirely on my legs. At 3 miles, I was running a solid 6:45/mi, and swapped places with Owen around Mile 5. Although I didn't feel great, I felt like I was still holding back a little in my legs.

Contrary to prior years, when I was training UP TO ten miles, this year I have run over 10 miles at least 15 times. So I knew the distance wouldn't be a problem -- just the intensity. And keeping back the coughing fits forced me to focus on every single breath in ... and ... out. At mile 8, I decided to turn up the speed a bit and ran 6:35/mi for the last two.

If I said it was great to cross the finish line, I would be lying. Once I stopped running, an hour's worth of coughing fits burst out of me. It was so painful, I couldn't even enjoy the runner's high. It wasn't a PR, but I was only off my PR by 90 seconds. After the race, I had the chills. My fever had risen to 101.6. Was it stupid to run a race while running a temperature? Yes. It has probably set back my recovery by a few days (or more, still not sure at this point). But after I had forced myself back into running so soon after the marathon, and after I had trained for so many miles and so many hours, I thought it was a total ripoff that I could be derailed by something completely out of my control. Thankfully, I have quite a while before my next race, so I can dial back the mileage and focus on feeling like myself again.

Once again, Alisha came through for me.  She dragged three cranky kids out into the cold to watch me run a race that I clearly had no business running.  She endured my constant complaints about my lungs, but still cheered me on and took great photos.  And she refrained from multiple possible "I told you so"s.  She makes me feel like a winner.

Some Days a 10-Miler comes easy

Today was not some days.  Sore foot, sore legs, bad chest cold, and it rained.

But the view somehow kept me going.

Race Report: 2014 DC Rock & Roll Marathon

Official Time:  3:24:32 (Rank: 188/2722 overall; 24/254 age group)

My pace chart only tells part of the story, and even that story has been cleaned up into a minutes-per-mile average:

 
































The reality of the DC Rock & Roll Marathon was not quite as tidy, but it was good enough for a personal record by ONE MINUTE.  I should be content with the new PR, especially since my previous marathon PR was set back in 2000, but it's hard not to think about the race that could have been (and was, for the first 11 miles).

I had heard plenty of horror stories about the Rock & Roll Marathon in DC.  Yes, it costs nearly twice as much as when it was just the "National Marathon."  But people had warned me that the second half of the Marathon was poorly marked, "bleak," and "spectator unfriendly."  They complained that there was no chocolate milk left at the finish, not enough support at the water tables, and that the "bands every few miles" referred only to the money-making portion of the race, the first 13.1 miles.

For the most part, the R&R people seem to have corrected these problems, if they were problems to begin with.  The start was surprisingly orderly.  I moved myself into corral #2, which was for runners aiming for a 3:20 marathon or 1:40 half.  Corral 1 was released right at 7:30, and Corral 2 was held for about 90 seconds to create a little space.  The effect was that although I still had to navigate around some people who clearly didn't understand how to do math (including a couple of ladies jogging along at about 10 min/mile, exchanging a muffin recipe), I only slowed down a few times during the first mile (7:30/mi pace).

Here I am just before the start, enjoying the sunrise in the nation's capital.

The race started out even better than I had hoped.  I aimed for about a 7:30-7:40 pace, which would have put me on track for a 3 hour, 15 minute marathon.  Instead, I found myself running with the 3 hour 10 minute marathon pacer.  In fact, I maintained contact with him for the first 10 miles.  Of course, every time the Garmin beeped at me, I told myself, "you're probably going out too strong," but I still felt like I was holding something back.  My mile 10 split was 6:45 -- fast for a half-marathon, let alone a marathon -- but it's been so long since I've run the full distance, I just don't have the feel for the race anymore.  (Ironman doesn't count because you don't feel compelled to run the whole marathon.)

So for almost 11 miles, I thought there was a strong possibility of qualifying for Boston (which would have required a 3 hour, 10 minute marathon).  Then at the mile 11 marker, just before a water table, I ran around an uneventful corner and felt a stabbing pain in my right foot.  I didn't roll the foot, didn't step on an uneven surface, or do anything out of the ordinary.  A bone in my foot just decided to send an extremely painful signal all the way up my right leg.  I actually hopped on one foot to the water table, and limped the distance of the table.  I watched the 3:10 pacer group run away from me, but at this point I was concerned about whether I could finish 13 miles, not 26.2.  After a minute of carefully walking on a throbbing right foot, I began limping back into a light jog, hoping that my foot would improve. 

After another mile, I was still running in a very unbalanced manner, but my foot pain leveled off to a manageable level.  At this point, I decided that if the pain got no worse by mile 13, I would continue onto the marathon, and walk it if I had to.  At mile 13, the half-marathoners peeled off to the left, and I turned to the right.  I knew that not many marathoners would be in front of me, but I wasn't really prepared to run almost a full 13 miles without someone next to me.  I suppose it is not the fault of the race organizers that the marathon is so lightly attended, but there was one time when I wasn't sure which way to turn to continue the race.  Between mile 14-18, there really weren't any spectators, bands, or anything.  Just my uneven paces and a lot of empty space before the next water table.  

At mile 19, as I came across the bridge into Anacostia, I could feel a bonk coming on.  Again, I don't have a good feel for the full distance anymore, and I apparently wasn't consuming enough calories.  It took a couple of hard miles of running on empty before my energy levels balanced out again.  By the time I hit mile 23, I figured out that I had to average sub-8 minute miles to the finish, or I wouldn't beat my previous best.  But I turned myself inside out (relatively speaking), and ran up and down the rolling hills in Anacostia until Mile 25, where my family was waiting for me.  

What was the highlight of the race?  It wasn't the finish.  It was seeing little Genevieve's pink coat from a quarter mile away, and running up to give her a hug.  But she said in her little quiet voice: "Mom said I could run with you for a while." 

So off we went, Genevieve and me, for about a half block.  You can see her timid smile as the people around us cheered.

For the remaining 1.2 miles, I had a little extra spark, and made up a little more time than I had hoped.  The finish area was well-designed so that marathoners had a clean chute to run through (rather than fighting through 23,000 half-marathoners who were bottlenecked in a separate lane).  I came across the finish line and howled, "YEEEAAAAHHH!"  Not because I felt great, but because I beat my personal best.  And what's wrong with my sunglasses?  Did my eyes suddenly slide up my forehead?

Note that as the Garmin flies, the race was 26.50 miles, not 26.2.  But that may have been from my zigzagging around with a bum wheel.  The man handing out medals to marathoners was actually another SunRype teammate.  It was fun to swap hellos before I turned into a beaten, limping old man looking for an ice bag.  Again, to the credit of the race organizers, there was plenty of chocolate milk and potato chips at the finish, and the bag check took all of 30 seconds.  Within a few minutes of finishing, I was walking toward the minivan, which was parked a block away. 

The weather couldn't have been nicer that afternoon.  Although I was quite warm by the finish, I took a space blanket anyway, because I knew the kids would have a fun time playing with it.

I was right.



Alisha was so good to me all day.  I had tried to keep the marathon secret from her for months, but eventually she was in on the secret.  And even then, I encouraged her to stay away.  But she showed up, and it meant a lot to me.  Then after the race, while I enjoyed (not really) an ice bath, she brought me a bacon cheeseburger, fries, and a super sized Diet Coke.  I'm lucky 100 times over.

Next race is the Cherry Blossom 10-miler in 3 weeks.  If I can recapture the magic from the first half of this marathon, I'll be in good shape.  But first my right foot needs to stop hurting like the dickens.

Marathon training is 20% preparation and 80% superstition

Tomorrow is my first 'A Priority' race, the Rock & Roll Marathon. The week, and especially the day before a marathon, I get unusually superstitious.

Oops--Is it bad luck to wear the race shirt before you run?

I also made a late decision to run in my old shoes. My new shoes are the same model, and already have about 50 miles on them, but really, is that enough? These bad boys have over 700. And they still look brand new.

Hyper-hydrating? Check. Packing glycogen? Check. Carbo-loading? You bet. This isn't my first rodeo, and I'm far better prepared for this than any previous marathon, so the superstitions should all go away.

But just in case, Where are my lucky socks?

Next Race: Rock & Roll Marathon, Washington, DC

When I was in my early 20's, I had terrible training habits.  And eating and dating habits too, but that's for another post.  The margin for error in all of these areas is much larger for a 20-something than for a high 30-something.  I ran 5 marathons in about a two year period, including two marathons in one month, and I don't think I ever ran more than 20 miles in a single training week during that period.  Not every race was a cakewalk -- the Boise Great Potato was a particularly painful race in which I did everything wrong -- but after a week or two of being unable to walk, I was back to my bad habits.

In my "adult" life, I have tried to train for a few marathons, and each time I have come away with an "overuse injury."  Even when I trained for the 2012 Ironman, it was the running miles that eventually caused my pes tendinitis.  I've also had to abandon marathon training because of work travel.  Such is life for a middle-aged weekend warrior.

But with each experience, I have further fine-tuned my training program.  And while I still have a variety of nagging pains that constantly threaten to become larger overuse injuries, I have put in significantly more miles for a longer period than ever before in my life.

Here are the two basic rules that seem to work for me:

1. Longest single run should be no longer than the next two longest runs of the week.  This is a simple rule to follow on paper, but it gets difficult when I have to miss a mid-distance run because of work or family obligations. 

2. Weekly mileage should not increase by about 15% per week or 25% per two-week period.  I typically top out at about 30 miles/week.  Every single marathon training plan I've ever seen recommends far higher mileage than that.  But for those of us who are not built like gazelles, 30 miles is already pushing it.

Of course, there must be exceptions sometimes, but each exception increases the risk of injury substantially.  I also openly acknowledge that I'm undertraining for marathons.  (My longest run this time was only 19 miles.)  But I would rather undertrain a little and allow race-day adrenaline to give me the final boost, than overtrain and sustain an injury.

With a little luck, I should be ready to run the Rock & Roll Marathon on March 15th.  The course is sort of a lazy figure-8.  I've run most of the top (purple) loop in previous National Half-Marathons, as well as half of the red section.  But the Anacostia portion at the end of the Marathon will be new to me.

My 3 goals for this marathon are as follow (and in this order):

1. Don't get injured.
2. Seriously, don't get injured.
3. Run a PR (sub-3:25)

I've toyed with the idea of qualifying for Boston (sub-3:10), but the course is just too hilly and I haven't been training at a fast enough pace.  While it is conceivable that I could really push it, the injury risk is somewhere close to 100%.  And the worst possible outcome is an injury in the first real race of the season. If this race goes well, I may reconsider later this year or next year (when my target increases to sub-3:15).

In my infinite wisdom, I also scheduled a 10-miler three weeks after the Marathon.  I've had to dump most of my hills and speed work because most of my training has been on the treadmill.  But I am hopeful that the baseload of endurance work will translate into stronger running and triathlon performances this year, even if the individual miles won't be as fast.