Know your mile splits!

On Thanksgiving Day, I ran the Turkey Chase BCC 10K in Maryland, which is one of several races my kids and I run together each year. It was quite cold and windy; but it was great fun, as usual. I was a bit disappointed, though, with my time, which was 55 sec. slower than last year's time. It was the only short race (5K, 8K, 10K) this year that I didn't run faster than I did last year, after I'd started more "serious" training for marathons, both with my local running club and with the RYBQ online community. It was not because of training--I'd fully expected to run a course PR--but because of a "technical racing detail." I missed reading the first three mile splits on my watch, and, by the time I realized by Mile 4 that my average pace was too slow, it was too late to make up the time over the last two miles. Mile 4 didn't feel that slow, but it was 32 sec. slower than Mile 5. Here are the splits:

7:56 - Would have been a course PR pace. I started near the front of my wave so was able to run without road congestion.
8:14 - Mile 2 was hilly, winding through residential neighborhoods north of Bethesda, and I'd expected it to be my slowest mile.
8:12 - Should have picked up the pace more, after the slow Mile 2. Mile 3 is along Rockville Pike, one of several major roads that lead into Washington, DC.
8:20 - Thought I was going faster than this pace! Still on Rockville Pike, Mile 4 ends in downtown Bethesda. I finally read this mile split and realized I really needed to pick up the pace!
7:48 - I tried but the last two miles were generally uphill.
7:58 - Especially the last mile!

Lesson learned: Gain a better feel for my pace without a watch (i.e., by effort) and/or make sure I catch those mile splits. In these short races, there's not much time to make up for mistakes!

Zombie Apocalypse, MCM version (Marine Corps Marathon race report)

From the Marine Corps Marathon (MCM) finishers area, next to the Marine Corps War Memorial (also called the Iwo Jima Memorial), to the post-race celebration area in Rosslyn, VA. is a fairly long walk that crosses U.S. Highway 50 on a bridge. I was slowly crossing the bridge, and, looking at the people around and in front of me who, like me, were all limping, I was thinking that this looks just like in those zombie movies. :)

But, what a fun race MCM was! I really enjoyed running it. Weather was almost perfect. Spectator support was terrific, one of the best for marathons. People coming out to support "The People's Marathon"! Granted, some of them may be tourists, a bit annoyed and impatient with all the road closings. :) The opening ceremonies were highlighted by skydivers (marines? not sure), some of whom carried *huge* American flags. Quite a sight. The presence of all the marines along the course, especially along a stretch going towards Hains Point, reminded all the runners the overall purpose of MCM. The race logistics were mostly efficient and well-done, including porta potties (sufficient number--though, of course, never enough!) and bag checks and pick-ups. Water stations were every 2-3 miles. I took mostly water, though Gatorade was also available. There were four food stations (oranges, Gu's, Sports Beans, and Munchkins). I skipped the oranges and Munchkins but took a Gu and a bag of Sports Beans. I also had three of my own Gu's. The ground around the stations was kind of sticky, from spilled Gatorade and discarded oranges--I figured I probably lost a few seconds as a result. :) Orange peels were everywhere; good thing they weren't handing out bananas. Getting the finisher medal put around your neck by a marine lieutenant was pretty cool. The MCM medal is the second-most popular finisher medal in North America for 2013, according to "Marathon and Beyond" magazine.

And, the post-race warming jacket (throwaway though reusable to some extent) was definitely better and more functional than the usual space blanket.

I do have two main gripes. First is the general course congestion, especially in the early miles but also the new out-and-back along Rock Creek Parkway (Miles 6-9). The latter was just too narrow for the number of runners. In my post-race survey response, I suggested wave starts of the corrals in future races. We'll have to see. Second is the long wait in line, some 45 minutes, to get into the Rosslyn Metro station, to head for home. Fortunately, weather cooperated. Someone should be looking into improving the getaway logistics. Actually, there is a third gripe. Those race photographers need to be more visible, especially those who are sitting on the ground, in the middle of the road (!). They are collisions waiting to happen.

The course congestion, I'm pretty certain, costed me a new PR. MCM was my first generally negative split marathon—and, I did not stop and walk at all (except for the four planned water stations for ~10 sec. @), even up that final hill to the Marine Corps War Memorial. I felt good throughout and essentially did not run into the wall. I kept missing the mile splits on my watch, which was a good sign (i.e., the miles were going by fast!). This being three weeks after having run the Wineglass Marathon, I was relatively conservative in my pacing. I ended up with 4:24, two minutes shy of my PR, though 20 minutes better than my previous MCM (2011). I think the extra time the course congestion caused easily exceeded two minutes. It wasn't until after ~Mile 9 did the field opened up enough for me to consistently run at my planned pace.

The best thing about this MCM is that it provided the data point to finally enable me to see why an even pace at the fastest speed one can sustain for a particular set of race conditions should yield the best results. Starting at around Mile 20, near the approach to the 14th Street bridge, I did quite a bit of "fishing," especially going across the bridge. This was rather uncustomary! With each overtaking of groups of runners who were in front of me, I felt as I gained energy. Also, I now know what changes to my training I need to make, when I start the next training cycle in December for Shamrock in March. The following pace chart for three of my marathons this year really tells the story!

Butterfly effect in running

No, not that kind! Not the butterfly in your stomach just before the start of a race.

I'm referring to the actual kind, as in the title of Edward Lorenz's presentation at the 1972 conference of the American Association for the Advancement of Science, "Predictability: Does the Flap of a Butterfly’s Wings in Brazil Set Off a Tornado in Texas?" (The original ground-breaking paper was in 1963, Deterministic Nonperiodic Flow.) An unexpected research result led Lorenz to the insight that, in nature, small changes can have large consequences. This insight became the founding principle of chaos theory, which, along with the butterfly effect, eventually got introduced to the general audience in 1987 via James Gleick's best seller, Chaos: Making a New Science. Here's Wikipedia's summary of the butterfly effect and butterfly effect in popular culture. The butterfly effect, also known as "sensitive dependence on initial conditions," has the corollary that forecasting the future can be nearly impossible. It's regarding this latter corollary that popular culture version of the butterfly effect usually gets wrong. The butterfly effect has become a metaphor for the existence of seemingly insignificant moments that alter history and shape destinies.

In his fascinating new book, "The Sports Gene," David Epstein (Sports Illustrated) describes how, with chess players, small differences in talent (initial conditions) can lead to large differences in outcome, given the same amount of practice. Epstein was careful to refer to this as a "sort of butterfly effect of expertise." "Sort of" because this butterfly effect is not that of Lorenz. This butterfly effect, though it has "sensitive dependence on initial conditions," does not have the non-forecasting corollary, at least not in the Lorenz sense. A key idea in Epstein's book is that exceptional talent (initial conditions) plus lots of correct practice (repetition) plus help in timing or favorable circumstances or environment are necessary for greatness. The first two, initial conditions and repetition, are generally predictive. The third, favorable environment, is the variable that clouds up the forecasting of outcome. This "sort of" butterfly effect informs a multitude of other areas of endeavor, besides various types of sports. In music, a good example is Hilary Hahn, who had the "gift of nature," practiced 4-5 hours a day, and had supporting parents and teachers, who created the favorable environment.

As relates to running, the "sort of" butterfly effect really highlights the importance of form and small adjustments to it. Three examples:

1. I've previously written on how a matter of 1/4 inch between the two sides of the right heel of the shoes I was wearing at the time (Nike Free), at about 48,000 strides per week (at my then weekly mileage), meant an extra 500 ft. of vertical distance that side of the foot had to stretch. That 1/4 inch "initial condition" mattered!
2. Until recently (spring of this year), on easy runs, I've taken two strides per breath in and out (2-2). With the increased training I've been doing, especially since the end of 2012, my #strides/breath has increased to 3-3. From 2-2 to 3-3 (initial condition), the oxygen cost of my running has decreased, and my running economy has improved.
3. On my training runs, I try to focus on form, one aspect of which is a higher back kick. The latter should result in a slightly longer stride. Let's assume that the additional length of the stride (initial condition) is one inch, what's the effect on the outcome of, say, a marathon? A marathon is 26.2 x 5,280 ft. = 138,336 ft. At a stride length of 3 ft., the entire race would take 46,112 strides. If each of the strides were an inch longer, then the total extra distance covered by the same number of strides but with a back kick would be 46,112 in. / 12 ~= 3,843 ft. That's almost 3/4 mile or around 7 minutes (at 9-10 min./mi. pace)! Of course, rarely does one hold form throughout a marathon, especially towards the end. But, the potential of that initial condition is there.

Running is the perfect metaphor for life--or, is life the perfect metaphor for running? :) In both, small things (initial conditions), repeated over and over again, matter (for better or worse). Hmm, does that mean marriage is "chaotic"? :)

The primrose path to the valley of death (Wineglass Marathon race report)

This past Sunday morning, I was waiting for the start of the Wineglass Marathon, along with almost 2,000 fellow runners, couple miles outside of the town of Bath, in the beautiful Finger Lakes region of upstate New York. We were all standing there in single shirts, the temperature an unseasonably balmy 65, with humidity in the high 90%. My plan, at the end of a 16-week RYBQ training program, was to run the first part of the race (~18-20 miles) at about 10-15 seconds slower than my BQ pace (8:58 mile for a 3:55 finish time), and, then, depending on how I was feeling, to stay at that pace or try to speed up a bit and go for a sub-4:00 or at least a PR (< 4:14). This was my sixth marathon, so I was well aware of the classic mistake of starting out too fast and then hitting the wall anywhere from the half way point to Mile 20 or so. I was going to be disciplined in executing my plan and make sure I first get my PR (by shaving eight minutes off of my Rock 'n' Roll USA marathon time of 4:22). Standing there, waiting for the start, I reminded myself to follow the plan and trust the training.

But, then, I saw the 3:55 pace sign.

In hindsight, of course, I shouldn't have done what I then did, which was to decide to test my training and run with the 3:55 pacer. I should have known better. But, I had trained well, with weekly mileage peaking above 60, and I felt good and ready. The start line was at the top of a hill, and I was looking down Mt. Washington Road, that initial half mile stretch of a course that has a net elevation decrease of about 280 ft. The temptation was just too great; I couldn't resist! That 3:55 pace sign led me down the primrose path and resulted in my running the race in exactly the classic no-no way!

I pretty easily, based on perceived effort (and number of steps per breath), stayed with that 3:55 pace group through the first half (first 10K split was ~54 min.), at which point, I had to drop back for a minute or so to adjust my left sock and retie the shoe, to keep a nascent blister at the bottom of the left sole under control. Within a couple miles after the half, however, I knew I was in trouble, as I realized that I wasn't quite ready to sustain the 8:58 pace for the entire distance. The temperature and humidity obviously didn't help, but I think I simply was trying to drop too much time, from the Rock 'n' Roll USA 4:22 to a BQ 3:55. The second half was not pretty, as the 4:00, 4:10, and eventually even the 4:30 pacers passed me. For Miles 16-19, I was struggling to just keep going, against a "transitional" wall. Then, at Mile 20, nearing the end of the "20 miles of hope," I ran full-on into that textbook solid wall and the start of "6 miles of reality"--or, what I've termed the "valley of death." :) Not until the final half mile or so, as I crossed the bridge over the Chemung River into downtown Corning, NY, did I emerge from that valley of death; and not until the final left turn onto Market Street was I able to manage even a feeble kick down the three blocks to the finish line at Pine Street.

As a result of my decision to run with the 3:55 pacer, I missed out on what I still think would have been a fairly certain new PR (< 4:14, Ithaca Marathon 1982, my first one, with almost no training at all!). Was I disappointed? For sure. I thought my 16-week training had gone really well, and 3:55 was at least an outside possibility. But, many good lessons learned--though the hard way! Plus, I know better now what needs to be done to run that 3:55. There were other possibly or likely contributory factors to what happened last Sunday: 5-hour drive to Corning on Saturday; getting ready for the trip Friday evening and thus not getting a good night's sleep; on my feet Saturday afternoon touring Corning (Museum of Glass); not sufficient pre-race fueling; jogging the two miles to the start line; far-from-ideal weather and consequently perhaps drinking too much water and Gatorade, almost every two miles (hyponatremia?). But, proper pacing and the training needed to sustain the goal pace definitely are at the top of the list.

Since I've been back home, I've been reading up on pacing and discussing with other RYBQ runners and the RYBQ coach. So, an even or slightly negative pace is best, though not usually attainable, for a marathon. That 3:55 pacer could run the ideal even pace, because it was much slower than his actual race pace, had he been racing rather than pacing; whereas, for me, 3:55 was a stretch goal. Wineglass told me I wasn't ready for 3:55, which is good to know, as I look towards my next try at BQ in March 2014. I suppose I should have known from my training. But now, I know in all its gory details! What I don't know is whether I could have stayed with the 4:10 or maybe even the 4:00 pacer. What I don't know for sure is where I am right now between 4:22 and 3:55. Back to the drawing board! :)

Other than all that, Wineglass itself was great! It was a very well-run race (the other meaning!). Very scenic course. Wonderful support from local towns through which the course winds. Terrific volunteers, all some 1,500 of them! Water/Gatorade stops every two miles and Gu at around Miles 13 and 19. Logistics very well done, including ample shuttle buses to the start line and accommodating ratio of porta-potties to runners. :) Glass finisher medal, hand pressed by Hands On Glass Studio in Corning; pretty unique and #11 in the 2012 list of Top 25 marathon medals.

And, of course, wineglass and champagne!

Also, nice town, Corning, home of Corning, Inc. (formerly Corning Glass Works). For dinner: Brewing Co. and Restaurant on Market Street (Wrought Iron Red perfect for a post-race drink!).

Finish line at Market and Pine Streets, downtown Corning, NY. Clock Tower at Centerway Square to the right.

Corning Clock Tower in Centerway Square

I definitely plan to go back to Wineglass in 2014--partly, to run it the right way! :)

Tapering focus

Or, focus in tapering.

Got to remind myself to stay focused, during these two weeks of taper before Wineglass. First, last Friday, I stubbed my right little toe at home, while walking into the laundry room, right before Saturday's 8K race. (Fortunately, I routinely train in Vibram FiveFingers (VFF), and, with its own toe pocket, that little toe was pretty happy, throughout the entire race.) Then, on this morning's run, I took a skin-scraping tumble in the parking lot of the local high school. The run was a 6-miler, and I did the middle 3 on the brand new school track (very nice!). To get there on the way home, I ran across the school parking lot, and, somehow, my right shoe (VFF) got caught on something and fleetingly stuck, which resulted in the following you-know-it's-happening-but can't-do-anything-about-it sequence of scraping contacts with the concrete pavement: Left heel (hard), right hand, left hand, left wrist, left elbow, left hip, and, finally, a Judo roll onto the back. This morning was also the local town’s annual parade, which starts at the high school, and there were many people there in the parking lot assembling for the parade. So, my tumble was a rather public one! The sting from the scrapes will be mostly gone by tomorrow. The only thing that will take a few days to recover is the right toe, next to that stubbed little toe, which got a bit bruised in the tumble and now has joined its neighbor in the pre-race recovery ward. I think both should be fine by the time Wineglass starts.

What got me thinking about this is that, in all my years (decades) of running, I've never taken a fall like this during a run (just a handful of stumbles). That I was looking at the parade preparation and not completely paying attention to the run probably contributed to the tumble. But, I suspect something about the taper in general also was a factor. After 14 weeks of speed work, strides, hill repeats, tempo runs, and long runs, with weekly mileage increasing to over 60 just before tapering, there is, perhaps, a certain sense of having made it to the top and being able to cruise the rest of the way to the start line and, with that, a certain slackening from that total focus of the previous weeks leading up to the taper. The mind gets more easily distracted, not the least from thinking about the upcoming race, for which all these weeks of early morning training have been dedicated.

Lesson for me: Stay focused during taper and get to the start line healthy! And, don’t go barefoot around the house … nah, probably not; I’m a minimalist! :)

Running on water

Recently, there was some discussion in the online RYBQ community about the difficulty sometimes of getting oneself out the door to run. That got me thinking once again about the deep, philosophical question of why I run. Which is the same as that other deep, philosophical question of who am I. Je cours donc je suis, right? What’s that? That’s not quite what Descartes said? Ah, same difference! J I’ve said this before: I’ve never gone out running and come back regretting it, even on those days when, lying in bed after the alarm has gone off and listening to the wind whipping snow against the window panes and the weather guy on the radio talking about something in the single digits, putting on running shoes and heading out the door would seem not to be the most rational choice. And yet, each time, with shoes laced, out the door I go. Why do I do this? Why does any runner do this? There are probably at least as many answers as there are runners.

For me, one of the answers must be what subsequently happens on a run. The first mile is usually rough and creaky, even with the proper warm-up, as the body tries to wake up. Towards the end of the second mile, however, as the body gradually gets warmed up and moving parts get lubricated, a rhythm begins to take hold. Several miles later, somewhere in the middle of the run (depending on its length), the legs and rest of the body all sync into this rhythm, and the result is as beautiful to feel as chamber music is to hear. This rhythm happens often enough to be a counterpoint to those pre-run self-arguments for going back to sleep. Then, once in a long while, something remarkable happens, when the running becomes seemingly effortless, with the entire body humming like an engine in overdrive, even when going up hills. Smooth and light--like running on water.

Last Sunday’s long run (22 miles) came close to that. It was a sharp contrast to a weekend earlier, when my long run was a 5K race followed by a 17-mile run home (not recommended!). Last Sunday morning, there was no 5K, the temperature was cooler, and the entire body just hummed along. (Average mile splits were about a minute slower than my still-to-be-achieved Boston qualifying marathon pace (MP), with the last three splits negative, ending at MP-9 sec.) It was heavenly.

Running WBS (2)

Earlier this year, I described how I try to pass the time on long treadmill runs, by breaking a long run into shorter segments and running them--especially mentally--one at a time. A kind of Work Breakdown Structure approach. In my current training cycle, preparing for an early October marathon (first try to qualify for Boston!), I'm following an Advanced-Low Mileage plan that has hill repeats every Tuesday: 10 reps, each of length increasing over the weeks to a maximum of 90 seconds, at half marathon pace. For me, the latter pace is about two steps per second. So, for a 90-sec. rep, I'd count to 180. The following is how I break down the 180 count for each of the reps. I do this so I won't miscount within a rep and miscount the number of reps, as well as just for variety.

Here's the WBS:
10 reps --> 5 sets of 2 reps each
Each set of 2 is counted the same way: Set 1: 2 (1 x 1-180); set 2: 2 (2 x 1-90); set 3: 2 (3 x 1-60); set 4: 2 (3 x 1-50 + 30); set 5: 2 (6 x 1-30)
For each set, count the first rep as
1, 2, 3, ..., 10, 11, 12, 13, ..., 20, 21, 22, 23, ...
and second one as
1, 2, 3, ..., 10, 2, 2, 3, ..., 10, 3, 2, 3, ...

So, for example, set 3 would go as follows:
Rep 1: 1, 2, 3, ..., 10, 11, 12, 13, ..., 20, 21, 22, 23, ..., 30, 31, 32, 33, ..., 40, 41, 42, 43, ..., 50, 51, 52, 53, ..., 60, 1, 2, 3, ..., 10, 11, 12, 13, ..., 20, 21, 22, 23, ..., 30, 31, 32, 33, ..., 40, 41, 42, 43, ..., 50, 51, 52, 53, ..., 60, 1, 2, 3, ..., 10, 11, 12, 13, ..., 20, 21, 22, 23, ..., 30, 31, 32, 33, ..., 40, 41, 42, 43, ..., 50, 51, 52, 53, ..., 60
Rep 2: 1, 2, 3, ..., 10, 2, 2, 3, ..., 10, 3, 2, 3, ..., 10, 4, 2, 3, ..., 10, 5, 2, 3, ..., 10, 6, 2, 3, ..., 10, 1, 2, 3, ..., 10, 2, 2, 3, ..., 10, 3, 2, 3, ..., 10, 4, 2, 3, ..., 10, 5, 2, 3, ..., 10, 6, 2, 3, ..., 10, 1, 2, 3, ..., 10, 2, 2, 3, ..., 10, 3, 2, 3, ..., 10, 4, 2, 3, ..., 10, 5, 2, 3, ..., 10, 6, 2, 3, ..., 10

I do these Tuesday hill repeats within my neighborhood, which conveniently has two hills each of about 90 seconds in length. For each set, I alternate between these two hills for the two reps, again, just for variety.

Perhaps more importantly, this WBS approach helps keep my mind busy, so I won't hear the legs complaining that they want to stop (!).

My plan for BQ (The Onion version)

I'm at less than four weeks to my next marathon and my first one to try to qualify for Boston. I have 27 minutes to drop to just qualify, which is probably not fast enough to actually get registered. I probably need at least another five minutes, or a total of 32 minutes. Not realistic? Here are my goals and my plan:

I'm currently at 4:22 (10:00/mi pace) (Rock 'n' Roll USA, March 2013).

To get to my PR of 4:14 (Ithaca Marathon, 1982), I need to drop eight minutes (9:41/mi). How? From the remaining 3+ weeks of training, which includes two more long runs of 21 miles each.

To break 4:00, I need to drop 14 more minutes (9:09/mi). How? Cooler October temperatures, net downhill course (-250 ft), and draft from fellow runners.

To just BQ (3:55), I need to drop five more minutes (8:58/mi). How? Motivational signs and other crowd support.

To have a chance to get registered, I need five more minutes (3:50; 8:46/mi). How? Doppio loading and running on the resulting fumes.

Actually, based on one of those race times predictors, my marathon times predicted from my 2013 5K, 10K, and Half times are 3:40, 3:33, and 3:43, respectively; although my coach Jason says those predicted times assume great or perfect training, in order to realize the predicted potential. So, all together, perhaps my plan for BQ is The Half Onion version.

Thank goodness for the hat!

This morning's 19-mile long run was for week 11 in my current training plan, from the Run Your BQ online community, targeted at an early October marathon. A week ago, I also ran a 19-miler at a 9:50 pace, about a minute slower than my required BQ pace, with two water/Gu walking sections (~0.25 mi. each). Today was quite a bit warmer and more humid, so I was expecting a slower time. The pace turned out to be about a minute slower (10:54), including two additional 0.25 mi. walks--and, mile 20.

Mile 20 on a 19-mile run?

My eyes must have played some kind of trick on me last night, when I estimated the 19-mile loop distance with Google map. The plan was to go from home to almost workplace (~10 mi.) and then to loop part of the way back, for variety. Somehow, I misjudged the total distance by about three miles (!). By the time I realized, it was too late to turn around and retrace the first half of the route; it would have been even longer. So, at mile 19 and with three more to go, I decided to run mile 20 and walk miles 21 & 22 (~20 min. pace). These three additional miles pushed the finish time about an hour closer to noon. With the sun already fairly high up during that last hour, I was sure glad I had my hat on. I started to wear a hat on runs (esp. long runs) at the start of this summer. At the weekly mileage that I'm currently running (50+), the exposure to sun is significant. So, I got a wide brimmed hat with a flap at the back to cover the neck. It makes a difference!

Running solo

I've been running since my high school days, almost always solo, which is my preference. The morning run is one of only two time periods during a day (the other being my violin practice late at night) that I have to myself--and, to "commune with nature." :) That said, there have been occasions, when close friends who are runners come visit, and we go out running together, that have been very enjoyable. About a year ago, I signed up, along with my kids, with my local runners club (MCRRC), mostly for the resources it offers. Over that summer, I trained with the Wed. night speed work group at a local university track; that was quite good. Then, this past winter, leading up to the March 2013 Rock 'n' Roll USA Marathon, I did the club's Winter Marathon Program, which helped me tremendously. On those Sunday long runs, although at times I didn't quite care for the running banter (I mean, it interfered with my communing with nature!), I did find them generally fun to do, with fellow runners in my pace group. On one such run, e.g., someone started singing the Beatles' Help! and, pretty soon, the entire group was singing and smiling and laughing. That was pretty neat, and different.
  
But, basically, I'm still mostly a solo runner.