Running in thin air (Copper Mountain Half Marathon race report)

Two weekends ago, I ran the Copper Mountain Half Marathon (at Copper Mountain Resort near Frisco, CO), at the end of a week-long conference at the same place. This was my second trail race and first one at high elevation (9,600 ft). Given

the uncertainty of the effect of the elevation, I was fairly satisfied with my time of 2:27:50. It was more than 40 minutes slower than my PR for half marathons but still good enough for third place in my age group. The course was a tough one (tougher than the Dances with Dirt at Devil's Lake Half), mostly up and down and across the ski slopes of Copper Mountain. A good part of the course was on the Colorado Trail, from which the following photo was taken, just above Center Village, where the race start-finish line was located (next to the partially hidden circle at the center of the photo).

Here's a view of the circle from the opposite direction, taken from my hotel room, conveniently located near both the conference building and the race start-finish line.

The course was basically a 5K loop to the west (right), a segment of which was on the Colorado Trail, and a 5K out-and-back to the east (left), completely on the Colorado Trail, both run twice. The 5K loop included an additional (uphill!) segment for the second time around, to get the total distance to 13.1. The 5K out-and-back was mostly single track, so, in addition to looking downward for obstacles, one had to look upward for oncoming runners. Running the course twice had its pros and cons. On the one hand, I knew what was coming up next; on the other hand, I knew what was coming up next (especially those steep segments!). It was definitely helpful, though, to be able to anticipate some of the footing (rocks, roots, and other obstacles) the second time. Even so, the only time the soles of my shoes sufficiently brushed a protruding rock to cause a near face-plant was during the second running of the 5K loop. "Good catch!" the guy behind me encouragingly called out. I credit my ability to have made that recovery to all those core exercises over the past couple years.

This year's course had to be partly changed by the race organizers (Endurance Race Series), because of a previously scheduled bike race on the same day that included the Ten Mile Canyon National Recreation Trail (west of Copper Mountain, towards the Vail Pass) that previously was part of the Copper Half.

I think, in previous years, an out-and-back segment along this trail accounted for about half of the race, which would mean that the 5K loop and 5K out-and-back from the Center Village circle were run only once. When I first heard about this year's course change, I was kind of disappointed, because I was looking forward to the gorgeous scenery along the trail. Here are some views from a morning run a few days before the race. (So envious of the local runners!)

This year's modified, more forested course, over more difficult terrain, however, was also quite scenic, in a more subdued way. So, I'm not complaining much.

The Copper Half was one of five different races over both days of the weekend. There were less than 100 runners for the half and a few hundreds total for all the races combined. So, for me, it was quite different from the usual large urban races--and, quite a nice change! Race logistics were all done well, by the entire staff of friendly people. The course was well described in detail by the race organizers before the start of the race, which was quite helpful (e.g., for the 5K out-and-back, go slow on the wet rocks when crossing the creek!). There were two water stations along the 5K loop and one at the start-finish line by the Center Village circle. There were no stations along the 5K out-and-back, because of the lack of car access to the Colorado Trail; but, that was not a big problem, given the short distance. There was a post-race pasta lunch for all the runners. 

The turnaround point of the 5K out-and-back was marked by three small orange traffic cones. There were two other runners near me, when I got to the turnaround the first time. The three of us briefly stood there and discussed whether these cones indeed marked the turnaround, before concluding they did and heading back. The cones were not monitored. But, it's hard to imagine any runner, by him/herself, would take advantage of the situation and prematurely turn around. No runner would want a race result with an asterisk, even if no one else knew.

Some suggestions for the race organizers:

1. Arrange with the Copper Mountain Resort management for late checkouts for all runners. Regular checkout time was 10 am (early!), and I'd to try really hard to get the front desk person to extend the time to even 11 am. The race began at 8 am, which meant, by the time I finished, I had about 30 minutes to get back to my room, shower, and check out. That front desk person was definitely, to put it charitably, not customer-focused!

2. Have a vegetarian option for the post-race pasta lunch.

3. Try not to schedule the race on the same weekend that a dance festival was also taking place. The latter was located right next to the Center Village circle, near my room, and had music (noise) blasting away from mid-morning Saturday until past midnight. Not the best situation to try and rest before the race!

I was very glad I had a few days during the conference week prior to the race to somewhat acclimate to running at 9,600 ft; still, the elevation probably was more a factor than the lack of trail training. Different people respond to high elevation differently. Some of the conference attendees had trouble breathing, difficulty in sleeping, headaches, etc. For me, although I definitely felt the effect in my breathing, it was not that noticeable. Running, especially uphill, however, was a different story. I felt the thinner air not just in the lungs but also in the legs. One interesting observation I made was that, below a certain percent grade, it was actually easier to slowly run up the slope than to walk it. I’m not sure if that’s because different muscles are involved, or the same muscles but used differently. The aftereffects of this race lingered longer than those of marathons. The fact that, right after the race, I'd to quickly get on the road to get to Denver and catch a flight was probably also contributory. The Copper Half was at the end of Week 7 in my current 16-week training cycle for a September marathon. That Sunday's long run should have been 16 miles, but the race more than made up for the shorter distance with intensity!

Trail races are definitely more fun to run, compared with urban road races. If another Endurance Race Series opportunity comes up the next time I'm in Colorado, I'd definitely run it. Trail or not, I now know I can race at 9,600 ft!

Running on the run

The main downside of those introductory tour packages (e.g., see Europe in 10 days) is the lack of time for morning runs. Recently, my family did a Trafalgar London to Rome Highlights “cost-saver” tour (6 cities in 9 days!) that was very efficiently organized, with an excellent tour guide—a great way to see a lot within a limited time period. But, it was really hard to get in the morning runs. In contrast, in the 2012 trip to Paris, we're travelling by ourselves and setting our own schedule, and I was able to do several really nice, crowd-less, early morning runs, especially that memorable 8-mile sightseer!

On this trip, I'd to skip running in London, because of a weather-related delayed arrival, and didn't get in a run until the second day in Paris. It was still dark (~5 am), when I stepped out from the hotel (Mercure Paris La Défense 5), but I soon regretted not bringing a camera. By the time I got to the Place de la Défense, in front of La Grande Arche, the early morning light was enough to get a really nice view down the Av. de la Grande Armée of the Arc de Triomphe in night lights. Here's approximately the same view from Google Maps, except in daylight. The Arc de Triomphe is the very small feature just to the left of center. Later that day, we were up on the first level of the Tour

Eiffel and can easily see our hotel in La Défense to the northwest (to the right of the distant skyscrapers in the photo, with the Jardins du Trocadéro in the foreground). The Arc de Triomphe was not quite three miles from the hotel and a round-trip would have made for a nice, easy run. But, no time!

So, where would I have gone for my morning runs, had I had more time? The following are my "virtual runs."

In London (~8-mile run): From our hotel west of the city, go east through Kensington Gardens towards Westminster Abbey, then along the north bank of the River Thames to the Tower of London, cross the

Tower Bridge, come back along the south bank of the river, passing Shakespeare's Globe and the London Eye, cross the river back to Westminster Abbey and then to the hotel.

In Paris (~10-mile run): From our hotel, east southeast along the Av. de la Grande Armée, pass the Arc de Triomphe, continue along the Av. des Champs-Élysées, pass the Jardin des Tuileries, cross La Seine to the Cathédrale Notre-Dame and on to the Quartier Latin, through this very narrow Rue du Château Qui Pêche, just off the 

Quai Saint-Michel, through Le Jardin du Luxembourg, to Rue du Montparnasse, where one could not go hungry (at least from lack of crêpes; Crêperie Le Petit Josselin, on the left, is where we had a delicious dinner; order cider!), and back to the hotel, by way of the Tour Eiffel.

In Lucerne (~5-mile run): From hotel, a few short blocks to the edge of Lake Lucerne, out and back to the east along the shore, back to city center, across the Kapellbrücke (Chapel Bridge), through the city streets to the 

Löwendenkmal (Lion Monument), just north of city center (dedicated to the Swiss mercenaries who died during the French Revolution), and back to the hotel.

In Venice: Our hotel was too far from the city for a run. (This was a cost-saver trip!) But, had we stayed in Venice, I would have had great fun running the many side streets and bridges, here with the Bridge of Sighs 

in the background. Or, pass through this narrow street and commune with the master. Or, for a really 

colorful run, take a boat ride across the Laguna Veneta to the island of Burano, known for its lacework and colorful houses, some seen here along the Fondamenta della Pescheria. (Best lunch of the trip on Burano!)

In Florence: Along the Fiume Arno, here just to the east of the Ponte Vecchio (which, btw, was not that high above the river, so Lauretta throwing herself in the Arno wouldn't have seemed to be that big a deal--unless she couldn't swim!), and through some of the

narrow streets of the city, such as Via dei Bentaccordi, where Michelangelo had lived. (See plaque on right.)

In Rome: An early morning stop at the Fontana di Trevi, perhaps with a coin toss--without the crowd--would have been really nice! But, near our hotel, in the outskirts of the city, there were also some interesting sights, 

including this one of a roadside fountain, taken on my only run (~3 miles) with a camera, on the last full day of the trip.

Adaptation beats aging (Run for the Red Marathon race report)

It is—still—a matter of training! On May 18, I ran a 20+ minute PR in the Run for the Red Marathon (Poconos, PA) and got under 4 hours for the first time (3:59:23), beyond my stretchiest of goals for the race. Now, I can remove that distinction between my “modern” and all-time PRs. I had run the latter (4:14) in the Ithaca Marathon back in my graduate school days, with essentially no training, just the regular 30-35 base miles per week plus one “long run,” all of 13 some miles. The advantages of being young and foolish! Back in March of this year, I’d just run my “modern” PR (4:20), at the Shamrock Marathon. Going into the Pocono race, I’d thought that running under 4:14, maybe 4:10, was possible, with a stretch goal of 4:05, which would get me about half way to my BQ of 3:55 (3:50 to have a better chance in the lottery). A sub-4:00 was not even on the radar screen!

So, what happened? Here are the pace charts from four recent marathons.

 

The Pocono one is clearly qualitatively different, with an even pace from start to finish, as it should be. I started out faster than I’d planned (as usual!) and was concerned, given past results, especially from last October’s Wineglass Marathon. Not wanting to repeat past mistakes, I tried to slow down. But, mile after mile, the GPS watch was showing times faster than what I’d thought were sustainable. I felt great; the legs felt strong; the wall never appeared.

Of course, I've been thinking quite a bit about this race over the past weeks, trying to figure out what was the magic combination of factors that enabled this case of punctuated equilibria. I don't really know; but here's a list of possibles, in no particular order.

- The course was net downhill, which must have accounted for some of those 20+ minutes--but, not all of them. Besides, though the Pocono course was certainly easier than a course going the other way, e.g., Grandfather Mountain Marathon (!), it was a bit deceptive due to the rolling terrain, especially from Mile 18 on.

- Weather was gorgeous, sunny, light breeze, with temperatures in the 40s at the start and around 60 at the finish. I wore a long-sleeve tech shirt, shorts, and hat. Just about right. I started with a pair of light gloves that I took off after the first 10K.
- View was gorgeous ... well, it's the Poconos!

- I was more fit, due to the changes I've made to my training, especially the long runs, after Wineglass: Front half warm-up miles (or half + 1 if the run is of odd miles) at goal marathon pace (GMP) plus ~30 seconds; rest at GMP, except for the last two miles, which are at GMP minus 15-30 seconds. I didn't get a chance to quite test these changes at the March Shamrock Marathon, because of that nasty fall on ice four weeks before the race. But, I definitely felt more confident than before about holding pace in the latter part of a marathon. Since Pocono, I've concluded that long runs actually need to be at GMP or faster. So, in my current training cycle for the September marathon, I'm running the first half of long runs at GMP and the second half at GMP minus 15-30 seconds. Got to train for race conditions!

- Perception is everything. In a recent article, Matt Fitzgerald wrote "Perception of effort is awareness of brain activity rather than sensations collected from the muscles." So, when runners almost universally speed up towards the finish line, it's because of lowered brain activity--independent of sensations from leg and other muscles. That would be fascinating! With this in mind, I started Pocono with the mantra, "it's 90% mental, stupid!" That turned out to be hard to match my strides, so I changed it to "dumb it down!" I really think this mantra enabled me to leave very little on the course. For the first time after a race, I didn't feel like eating. I couldn't even finish a 1/4 piece of a bagel. I just sat there, near the post-race food table, and nibbled.

- Somewhat paradoxically, my breathing for most of the race was 3,3, i.e., 3 strides per breath in and 3 strides per breath out. Since around last fall, I've been breathing 3,3 for base runs and first half of long runs and tempo miles, and 2,2 for the second half of long runs and tempo miles. When I'm breathing 3,3, I know I'm not going too fast for base (easy) runs. For Pocono, only for the last four miles or so was I breathing 2,2 and for the last half mile 1,1. So, was I running at an "easy" pace for the first 22 miles?!

- Because of scheduling issues, during the latter part of the 16-week Pocono training cycle, I missed some of the runs, including one long run, and shortened some others. I was thus more rested going into Pocono. Did that make a difference?

- I fueled somewhat differently this time. For Shamrock, I took a Gu at Miles 6, 12, and 18 (also had planned one at Mile 23 but the stomach wasn't amenable). For Pocono, I shifted the Gu schedule to earlier in the race, i.e., at Miles 4, 10, 14, and 20, which seemed to work out better.

- In recent weeks, before Pocono, I've been experimenting with nose breathing during training runs, 30 seconds at a time. I've been a diaphragmatic breather for a long time, whether nose or mouth breathing, reinforced through my Tai Chi practice. But, breathing through the nose while running was not natural for me. Nose breathing has many benefits, so it's a goal I'm slowly working towards. At Pocono, nose breathing was useful at water stops. After sipping while walking a few steps, I'd take one last drink and hold the water in my mouth. As I started running again, I'd breath through the nose and slowly swallow the water. In the category of every second counts (!), nose breathing allowed me to take shorter water stops, without decreasing water intake.

- Finally, I've to give a lot of credit to the 4:00 pacer! I remember seeing him at Wineglass last October. And, hearing him (!)--that booming voice. This time, though, he had some kind of mini-microphone system that was audible at least (I'd guess) 100 meters away. He was a great pacer, continually carrying out a conversation with the runners around him, sometimes giving encouragement, sometimes providing distraction (from the growing fatigue!). I stayed ahead of his voice for most of the latter part of the race, thus being energized by the thought that if I could just keep that up until the finish, I'd be under 4 hours. At the same time, I was anxiously looking out for any sign of that "six miles of reality." Which never really materialized. But, at around Mile 24, as I was going down Wallace Street, towards Main Street of downtown Stroudsburg, the first real doubt flashed through my mind. By then, the 4:00 pace group had dispersed, and I was the only one left running with the pacer. He said something that I can't remember now but which kept me going. I was trying to tell myself that, if I could just stay close to him, I should be able to still finish with a sub-4:00. As he told us during the run, he usually pace himself to finish about a minute under the goal time. After we'd finished, I lost sight of him, so I didn't get a chance to thank him. But, I did send a note to the race organizers and asked them to forward it to him.

The irony, kind of, was that I ran my first sub-4:00 marathon with my New Balance Minimus 10--the one about which I've been complaining so much (!). :)

The Pocono race organizers were superb. My missing chip incident was illustrative. My wife had just dropped me off at the start of the race, at Pocono Mountain West High School in Pocono Summit, PA early that Sunday morning, and I'd just gone through the shopping bag containing all my race gear and taken out what I needed and left those just-in-case items. I did one final check, gave her a kiss, and said I'll see you at the finish. I turned and walked towards the high school entrance. Before I got there, all of a sudden I realized that I'd forgotten the timing chip in the shopping bag. In a panic, I spun around and ran back to the minivan, just in time to see my wife drive off. Like a madman, I chased after her, but to no avail, even though, with all the incoming traffic, she wasn't going that fast. In thinking about this afterwards, I was really lucky that I didn't get injured during this frantic chase! Forlornly, I headed back to the high school and tried to reach my wife with a phone that another runner graciously let me use. But, no luck. I then went to the registration table and told them what had happened. I just wanted to confirm that I was still allowed to run the race. I wouldn't have an official time; but, I had my GPS watch, the times from which in past races have been usually just a few seconds different from official times. Just as I was resigning myself to this situation, one of the registration staff persons said let me see what I can do. From somewhere behind the table, she retrieved an envelop and took out from it a spare chip (!) and said I could use that and made a note to link the bib corresponding to this spare chip to my registered bib. This was customer service above and beyond! I wanted to jump over the table and give her a big hug! :) This would have been a great race, regardless, given the sub-4:00, but, without the chip, it wouldn't have been "official." Here's the souvenir chip that was lying silently at the bottom of the shopping bag. (While I appreciate the souvenir aspect, I do still prefer the chip-on-the-bib method.)

Race logistics were excellent. To be able to wait indoors for the start of the race was quite nice. There were real bathrooms. The long hallways were great for warm-up runs. From the school to the start line was just a short 1/4 mile, to loosen up and then drop off my bag at the UPS truck. The volunteers at the water stops (every two miles) were simply wonderful. And, cheerful! The stadium finish, which I really liked, was invigorating. Runners entered the stadium just off the right edge of the photo and went counterclockwise for about 3/4 of a lap. In this photo that my wife took, I'd just finished 2-3 minutes earlier (clock is at 4:02:42), slowly run on to cool down, and circled back towards the finish area. So, where's Bill? (Hint: Lower left of scoreboard) :)

After all this thinking about the Pocono race, I still am not sure how I did what I did. What I do feel, though, is a boost to my confidence--a breakthrough, mentally. I'm no longer just aiming at 3:55, my BQ time; I'm now looking at 3:45, maybe even 3:30, as realistic goal times. The top three finishers in my age group were all in the 3:30's. I'm now training for my two fall marathons with a different sense of what's possible!

The Pocono Marathon is a great BQ race. But, it's also just a great race. Whether or not I'm still trying to qualify for Boston, I plan to run this one again. The Pocono medal will always be a special one for me!

RunTheBluegrass Half Marathon race report

RunTheBluegrass Half in Lexington, KY may be "America's Prettiest Half-Marathon," but it's got to be one of the hilliest also. My time (1:56) was about 10 minutes slower than my PR (though still good for 4th out of 44 in my age group). It was lightly raining and windy from the start, but the heavy rain held off until about two hours later. So, those finishing after that must really have gotten soaked. My core temperature started to drop just minutes after the finish line. I quickly grabbed some water and food and retrieved my checked gear bag. By then, my fingers were already frozen enough that I had some difficulty in untying the bag. So, I didn't wait around for the post-race party and made a bee line for my car to thaw out.

Main lesson learned? Don't step on the car clutch too soon after finishing a race! Still shivering after I got into the car, I decided to start the engine, so I could turn on the heater. The moment the left leg pressed on the clutch, the gastronemius muscle (just looked it up!) knotted itself up, and I found myself semi-suspended in mid-air, above the seat, hands grabbing the steering wheel for support. To others also warming up in nearby cars, I must have seemed the very picture of rigor mortis. Eventually, the knot loosened and I slowly settled back into the seat. I quickly changed into the set of dry shirts that I was so glad I'd brought, drove back to the hotel, showered, and started off on the long drive home. In the short-term, what come first to mind, when I think back to the race, are those several minutes after stepping on the clutch!

This was a race of opportunity. I had a conference in Louisville, KY the week before, and Lexington, about 80 miles to the east, was on my way home. The race was on Saturday, and the conference ended on Thursday, so I had some time in between. After packet pickup Thursday afternoon, I had time to drive the entire race course and made a mental note about the rolling terrain ("hmm, sure seems like a lot of hills"). And, of course, the downhills don't compensate for the uphills! Shown here is the terrain typical for the course, at the mid-point split. The slopes are a bit exaggerated by the camera, but it was hilly. Pretty, though, even in the cold, windy rain! One very noticeable effect of such terrain on my running was the difficulty to get into a good rhythm.

From discussing with the RYBQ coach on how to better prepare for running a rolling, hilly course, there are three suggestions: (1) Practice running on similar terrains during training runs, which I'd need to partially simulate around where I live; (2) run conservatively during the early part of the race (in Bluegrass, I tried to run the early hills at near my PR pace and really felt that later on!); and (3) strength train the legs. I did just run the Shamrock Marathon two weeks prior, so that might have also been a factor. But, this kind of terrain does make for a harder--not for PR--race!

Despite the weather, I had a lot of fun running Bluegrass. Here are some more scenery from the course, which winds through Lexington's thoroughbred farms. What most impressed me were the race organizers and, especially, all the volunteers who braved the weather. The runners, at least,

were generating heat. Packet pickup was well-organized and efficient, as was pretty much every other aspect of the race, including plentiful parking. As planned, I used only two of the water stops; but I was tempted to also stop at the one around Mile 11 (?), where someone was offering either bourbon or beer aged in bourbon barrels! I'll come back to this later. I'm not sure what could have been done, before the start of the race, to keep runners warm, except to perhaps construct a big tent near the start. I took shelter behind a nearby small barn, until the start, which appreciatively began very shortly after everyone assembled. The organizer did make some adjustments for the weather, by moving the post-race celebration inside some kind of club building, though getting in was kind of slow. But, that didn't affect me, because I had to get on the road. I have two main suggestions for future races: Add mile markers and provide space blankets (if similar weather)! Still, overall, it was a great effort by the organizers. And those volunteers! One other thing I really liked was a very reasonable optional fee at registration to get online access to all the race photos. This was the first race for me that offered this option. I wish all races would do something similar, instead of way overcharging for photos.

This year's Bluegrass Half began and ended inside the Keeneland Association complex (horse racing), which I explored a bit on my pre-race warm-up run. Here's the famous Rolex Clock, just inside the east gate entrance, with the grandstand in the background.

And, here is the race track, with some early morning practice going on.

And, appropriately, here's this year's Bluegrass finisher's medal.

Finally, about that beer aged in bourbon barrels. Here's what I had at one of the dinners during the pre-race conference week in Louisville. A very unique flavor! I was going to get some to bring home but, in my haste to start the long post-race drive home, forgot! Another reason to run the Bluegrass Half again!

Review of NB Minimus 10 - Updated (final)

In my previous update to the review of the NB Minimus 10, I concluded that, with the particular stitching design problem that had created a hot spot having gone away, I would, overall, still consider the NBM 10 in the future. What happened in this morning's long run changed my mind, and I'm now crossing the NBM 10 off my list of possible future shoes--unless New Balance fixes the problems I've encountered.

It was a 19-miler today. Weather was gorgeous, with temperatures starting in the 50s, sky sunny with patchy clouds, and a light breeze. I was cruising along, until around Mile 9, when I began to feel some irritation around the top of my right little toe. After Mile 10, I took a planned water/walk break (1/4 mi) but took some extra time to retie the shoelace, to see if that might take care of the irritation. It didn't and, for the next two miles, the irritation intensified. I knew that, if I continued, that toe probably won't be a pretty sight afterwards. OTOH, with my next marathon coming up in five weeks, I really was loath to cut the run short. I did some quick calculus and decided that, with a bruised and possibly blistered toe, I could probably bandage it and still continue to run on subsequent days. So, I ran on. As it turned out, starting with Mile 13, when, as planned, I increased the pace to goal marathon pace (for Boston qualifying), I didn't notice the irritation as much--though that might have been because my mind was more occupied with sustaining the faster pace. Anyway, when I got home, this is what I saw:

That maroon stain? Yup, blood. And, here's what was underneath:

The two ventilating holes in the sock were preexisting. Now, one might ask why didn't I wear a non-ventilating sock. Well, first, whatever the problem with the shoe that drew blood also had previously created the hole in the sock. Second, any good pair of shoes should be wearable sans socks. A quick check of the inside of that right shoe revealed some sloppy stitching work that had left some roughness, which resulted in the irritation. The corresponding area inside of the left shoe was smooth. (I also checked my retired Merrell Trail Glove--still my favorite!--and all the stitching was smooth.)

To sum up, that first stitching-related problem of the NBM 10 is mostly one of design. This stitching-related problem is one of workmanship. To me, both are indicative of poor quality control. Furthermore, there's also the problem I'd previously noted, that of the sole material of the NBM 10 wearing out rather quickly, forcing me to use Shoe Goo to keep up with the wear (which is good for Shoe Goo, I suppose!). I think this fast wearing out of the sole is a New Balance "design feature." :)

I hope NB will fix these problems. Otherwise, I won't be considering their shoes in the future.

Shamrock Marathon race report

I'm happy to have been able to run the Shamrock Marathon (Virginia Beach, VA) at all, given that fall on ice four weeks before the race. So, I'm mostly happy with my result, a modest two-minute PR. It satisfied my "minimal" goal, of the list of possible racing goals. I got something out of the race. Not that just finishing a marathon is not something already; but, you know what I mean.

Here's the pace chart for Shamrock, along with that for Rock 'n' Roll USA 2013 and Marine Corps Marathon (MCM) 2013, with race times of, respectively, 4:20, 4:22, and 4:24. I ran MCM conservatively, because it was three weeks after I'd run the Wineglass Marathon in early October 2013. MCM was my only generally negative split marathon, but it was at a relatively slow pace.

These charts, along with my not achieving those more than "minimal" goals at Shamrock, are instructive. The main observation is that I ran Shamrock similarly to how I ran RNR, but with a more even pace over the first 21 miles. In fact, if I were to eyeball a smooth curve through the RNR plot, I'd end up with something close to the Shamrock plot, which is quite interesting. The other observation is that the slow-down after Mile 21 came 2-3 miles later into the race. I attribute the latter improvement to the changes I'd made to my training, especially to the long runs, after Wineglass. So, in my current (shortened) training cycle for an end-of-May marathon, I'm extending those changes--basically longer and faster. I'll come back to this, in a later post-race analysis.

Shamrock weekend had three races (marathon, half, and 8K), well organized by J&A Racing. Porta potties seemed to be plenty; though, with the marathon start line less than two blocks away from my hotel and the finish line located just behind the hotel, I didn't need to use the potties at all. Here's the view from my hotel balcony of the finish line (for all 3 races), on the "boardwalk" (actually concrete) along the beach. The leading finishers of the Saturday morning 8K can be seen (just over 23:00!). There were some porta potties located

on the beach, off the "boardwalk," which meant runners had to walk on sand to get to the potties. J&A should have provided some temporary "board walk" access. There were plenty of water/gatorade stops, every couple miles; Gu at two stops; plus another stop with bananas and pretzels, at around Mile 23. The course was fairly scenic. The boardwalk section was quite windy, though someone said 2013 was even windier. So, that's probably a "feature" of the race. There were basically two loops, a southern loop for the first half and a northern loop for the second half, with the mid-point right around the start line. The course was mostly flat, with the only elevation being the two approaches to the bridge over Rudee Inlet on General Booth Boulevard, in the southern loop. On the return from the latter, part of the course winded through a military base, with lots of uniformed cheering! Actually, except for Miles 17-21, there were lots of enthusiastic spectator support. Miles 17-21 were through a wooded section of US 60 (Shore Dr) and parts of Fort Story, another military base, including the Cape Henry Lighthouse. At the east gate of the base, on the way out, there was a very nice uniformed send-off back onto US 60. Racing through military bases was a first for me. I suppose that'd be one way to ensure the safety of races. :)

There were 42 runners who finished under 3:00. As I was nearing Mile 14, heading north on US 60, just past the mid-point (and start and finish lines), I finally caught up with the first place finisher, Kennedy Kemei (2:18:24). Too bad he was going the other way! That was as close as I've ever gotten to rubbing shoulders with an elite! And, speaking of elites, on checking into the hotel Friday evening, as I was asking the person at the front desk about late checkout after the marathon (so I could take a shower), this J&A person came up and asked if I had any questions and was I Charlie something, one of the elites he was waiting for. I mean, I knew my training had gone well--but, this well? The front desk person didn't have an answer. The next day, when I asked again (different person), I was told it'd cost an extra half day ($60). The front desk person then asked--it happened again :)--if I was an elite, by which I think she meant elites can check out late without extra charge. I said to her, if I were an elite, I wouldn't need a late checkout! $60 for a shower certainly was not worth it, so I decided to not do the late checkout and, instead, to just let everything evaporate and change into a clean set of clothing for the drive home.

My legs definitely felt fatigued from Mile 22 on, though I don't quite consider it as bonking--just borderline delirium. :) That otherworldly feeling, especially the last two miles. The 4:15 pace group caught up with me around Mile 22, and I ran with them for about half a mile, at which point I stopped to get some water. I've wondered about this quite a bit afterwards. If, instead of stopping, I'd continued to run with that group, would I have been able to keep up and, thus, ended up five minutes faster.

Both the finisher's medal and the post-race warming towel are quite nice. The medal has a bottle opener on the top. The towel is a nice change from the usual space blanket; though, at the time, on the boardwalk, with that wind, the latter probably would have been warmer!

Overall, a very good race experience. I definitely recommend it. And, I highly recommend to reserve a hotel close to 31th Street and Atlantic Avenue!

Back on the road again

Yesterday morning, I finally got back on the road (sort of). I ran for the first time (test run) since my fall on ice during that long run couple weekends ago. The test run was just a slow, conservative one mile (at ~14 min/mi). The left leg that took the brunt of the fall still felt a bit sore, but there was no pain while running. This morning's run was four miles (at ~12 min/mi), with 0.15 mi walk after each mile. So far so good! I'm hoping that I'll be able to gradually ramp up the miles over the next two weeks to run a satisfactory Shamrock Marathon. I'm quite relieved now; though, two nights ago, I was anticipating the morning test run with trepidation. As I was nervously sitting there, browsing my Facebook news feed, I came across a Runner's World article on restarting running after a layoff. How timely! In the article, Daniel Lieberman of Harvard was quoted on how it takes time to start running again but also how adaptive is the human body. Coincidentally, I've just started reading Lieberman's new book (2013), The Story of the Human Body, which includes quite a few pages on barefoot running (should be no surprise to those familiar with Lieberman's work). It's uncanny sometimes how things converge! Anyway, back to back on the road.

It was two weeks of frustration and worsening withdrawal symptoms! I kept replaying that run with the fall on ice: should have's, would have's, could have's. My training for Shamrock had been going really well, especially with my modifications to the long run, based on lessons learned from Wineglass (Oct. 2013). I'd felt confident enough to be thinking of a BQ attempt at Shamrock. But, now, with the two-week taper starting next week, missing the last two hard training weeks and last three long runs (20, 21, and 21 mi), and consequently losing some of the fitness in recovering from the fall, all is lost! So I thought to myself. At the same time, I also kept reminding myself of Scott Jurek's four-step checklist, which he described in his book, Eat & Run, for what to do when bad things happen in a race (in life, too!). Much easier said (or written) than done! Still, I finally was able to move on and reassess my goals for Shamrock and to realign them with reality and with the main overall goal of qualifying for Boston. I was thinking, now that BQ (3:55) is no longer realistic, given the disruption to the training, perhaps I'll just conservatively run Shamrock as a long long run, to ensure I'll be in shape to pick up with Week 9 of the next 16-week training program for a BQ attempt at the Pocono Marathon (end of May). But, then, at the monthly Coach's Chat of the RYBQ online community, the suggestion from the coaches was that, factoring in the loss of fitness from the two-week layoff, a 4:05 still might be feasible. So, short of a 3:55, I have the following options for Shamrock:

- Run it as a long long run and don't worry about time--don't even carry a GPS watch!
- Go for 4:22, my time for the 2013 Rock 'n' Roll USA and my "modern" PR. Given that I almost ran this time at last October's MCM, two weeks after having run Wineglass, I feel pretty confident, even with the layoff.
- Go for 4:14, my time for the Ithaca Marathon back in 1982 and my all-time PR. That was my first marathon, and I ran it essentially without any training (didn't know any better!) and with one long run (all of 13 miles) before the race. Given my coaches' assessment of the loss of fitness from the layoff being better than what I'd thought, the 8-minute drop between the two PRs seems doable.
- Go for 4:05. I would have to work for this. I'd need to basically do my modified long run, which I'd done for up to 19 miles (before the fall on ice), but do it for 26.2 mi. I'd need to run the first half at 9:25 (BQ goal marathon pace + 30 sec) and the second half at goal marathon pace (8:58). Of course, for a race, I'd actually run it at a pace somewhere between 9:25 and 8:58, with a slightly negative split, if possible.

Which option will depend on how well the next two weeks go, how I feel at the start of the race, and how I feel during the race. The uncertainty caused by that fall two weeks ago will make for an interesting run!

And, if I'm feeling really, really, really good--and lucky!--that day ... :)

"Not all pain is significant." (2)

In an earlier post about the significance of pain in running, I wrote that I needed more data points. Well, last weekend, I got a new data point--painfully. After I fell on a patch of ice in mile 3 of a 20-mile run, I decided to continue and try to finish the run. The upper left leg, which took the brunt of the contact with the ice, didn't feel completely normal, but, after a few hundred meters, it felt good enough to go on--so I thought. After mile 11, I took a 1/4 mile walking break for a Gu and water. When I started up again, that upper left leg felt stiff and somewhat painful. This time, even after a while, it still didn't feel quite right. So, I decided to cut the run short (at 13 miles) and head home.

I could hardly walk the rest of the day.

My lesson learned, besides to walk around and not across ice (!), is that the significance of pain depends on the context. When Scott Jurek torn his ligaments at mile 44 of the 2001 Western States 100, he calculated that he could continue the race--which he won--without lasting damage. But, that was during a race. In my case, I was finishing up week 12 of a 16-week training cycle for the upcoming Shamrock Marathon. In hindsight, I should have headed home right after my fall on the ice. I should have told myself that to be ready for the race is more important than to finish that week's long run. Had I not continued the run after my fall, perhaps I would be further along in my recovery, which, at one week after, is back to normal walking but not quite to running. Withdrawal symptoms getting worse ...

Respect the ice (or R.I.C.E.)!

That was a stupid run this morning. Started off the 20-mile run fine; temperature comfortably in the upper teens. But, after two miles, I decided to go on the road, instead of staying within the nicely plowed parking lot of the local library/community center. Going by the middle school, I saw the ice patch, slowed to a walk, but, instead of taking a bit more time to go around the patch, tried to walk across it (stupid!). Next thing I knew, the left side of the upper leg, left side of the upper body, and left forearm hit the pavement in sequence. Veni, vedi, but, alas, not vici! I stopped for a bit to assess, felt generally OK, and continued on, albeit at a slower pace. After Mile 13, I decided to cut the run short and head home. Damage assessment: Bruised area on the left leg and upper body (and bruised ego) and a rather sore left hamstring, probably due to the sudden fall and, perhaps, the additional 11 miles afterwards. Lesson learned: Respect the ice (or R.I.C.E.)!

Winter Storm Pax and core exercises

The two rounds of wintry weather this week, courtesy of Winter Storm Pax, brought 15-20 inches of snow to my neighborhood. It began in the evening this past Wednesday, so I was able to do my 12-mile run that morning, as scheduled. Temperature was in the single digits. I had three tech shirts on, under a windbreaker. The latter, not of the breathable kind, resulted in a first for me: Ice crystals lined its inside, at the end of the run. Very interesting. But, I digress ...

By Thursday morning, the snow had already accumulated more than 10 inches, with more falling. I had an 8-mile tempo run that morning. What to do? In the basement was the "dreadmill." The thought of an 8-mile run on that would normally have been quite daunting. That morning, though, it didn't bother me much--probably had something to do with its not-in-working condition! There was also the Nordic Track, which, for me, is a lot more palatable as an indoor alternative to running; it's also really good for cross training. But, I didn't go for that either, because, with hours of shoveling ahead of me, I knew I already had a solid cross-training workout!

From Thursday afternoon through Friday, in several two-hour sessions, I almost got the driveway completely shoveled out, with the only work left being that ridge of hard-packed snow/ice that the county plow always leaves behind, when it eventually comes around to our local street. It occurred to me, as I was finishing up, that the 10 or so hours I'd spent on this shoveling not only constituted good overall cross training, in lieu of the 8-mile run that I couldn't do, but also actually included at least three of the pre- or post-run core exercises that are in my current training plan (for the March Shamrock Marathon)--except they are the "advanced" versions: (1) Lean forward, bend knee, shovel snow, stand up (i.e., front lunge, the hard way); (2) hold shovel with snow, step back while turning 120-degrees, bend knee, discharge snow from shovel (i.e., diagonal lunge with twist, the hard way); and (3) for very wet—and heavy—snow, lean forward, bend knee, shovel snow, squat down, stand up while holding shovel with snow (i.e., body+snow weight squat, the hard way).