“Get some food first … and then decide.” (Patapsco Valley 2024 50K race report)

That’s what one of the race officials next to the finish line said to me.

I was just finishing—finally—the first of two 16-mile loops of the Patapsco Valley 50K a few months ago. As I was approaching the finish area, the person monitoring the finish line asked me if I was 50K or 25K (companion race to the 50K). I said 50K but I'm debating whether to not do the second loop and make it a 25K. Then this race official on the side said, don’t go past the finish line yet, go to the aid station, get some food first, see how you feel, and then decide.

Half-dazed, I stopped by the aid station and got some food and drink and went to the adjacent drop-bag canopy. As I ate and drank, I unthinkingly reached for my bag, unzipped it, and started to change into dry socks, shoes, etc. Then, after 20 some minutes of fueling, hydration, and rest, and with some clarity returning to my mind, I reassessed and felt a second loop was at least possible. So, I went back to the guy and said, um, I think I’ll give it a try and see. He said I looked good, and that there’s still an hour before the cutoff to start a second loop. I then made a quick porta-potty stop and headed out to start the second loop, not knowing quite what to expect, hoping to just finish.

Which I did! So, because of this guy’s "get some food first," I was able to finish my first ultrarace ever. Instead of some at-least-I-did-one-loop-and-got-familiar-with-the-course-for-next-time rationalization, I now can say, I fricking did it! I “showed up” for that second loop. Indeed, "whether in running or in non-running, showing up intentionally is the Tao." (And, after this past November 5th, showing up is all the more important.)

Beautiful hand-crafted 50K finishers mug

What happened at the end of that first loop was the main lesson of the race for me. Mind over body? Sure. But, in this race, the lesson is that my mind sometimes underestimates my body.

The Patapsco Valley 50K was more challenging than I’d anticipated. But, I should have known that, given the course winds near and across the Patapsco River within the Patapsco Valley State Park (southwest of Baltimore, MD). The last mile or so of the 16-mile loop, after crossing a small tributary to the Patapsco River and checking in my bib number with a race volunteer there, is pretty much a continuous steep ascent until the grassy expanse next to the softball field of the CCBC (Community College of Baltimore County) Catonsville. At least it felt that way.

Finish time: 8:28:31; moving time: 8:07:40; pace: 15:18/mi; ~20 minutes of fueling, hydration, and rest between the two loops.

It was during this last mile at the end of the first loop, with my legs feeling barely responsive from all the lactic acid buildup and walking most of the way, that I was trying to talk myself into stopping after one loop and just finishing the race as a 25K. Thoughts going through my mind: If I am feeling this way now, what will it feel like in the second loop? If my legs are not feeling normal, wouldn’t parts of the course with side drop-offs be kind of dangerous? What if I lose my balance crossing the Patapsco River, especially the second one with water deep enough to get my shorts wet and a riverbed full of slippery rocks? If I stop and finish the race as a 25K, it wouldn’t be a DNF; I’d have a medal. If I just stop, I could get off my feet and …

It didn’t occur to me—perhaps I didn’t want it to occur to me—that, with rest, the lactic acid should start to be flushed out and the legs should then feel differently. I should have known better. I did know better. After all, I’d written about it. According to Tim Noakes’ Central Governor Model, during the final stages of any race, as much as 65% of the leg muscle fibers are inactive and not contributing to the effort. Similarly, David Goggins, former Navy SEAL and ultra runner, wrote about the “40% rule” in his book, Can't Hurt Me. I don’t know the basis for his rule. But he also refers to a governor in the human mind that makes most people give up when they’ve only used around 40% of their maximum potential--even though they feel like they’ve reached their maximum. Noakes’ 65% is untapped potential; Goggins’ 40% is tapped potential. So, the two are about the same. The question is why some people are better able to overrule their governors and tap into their potential. In the 2024 Barkley Marathons, Jasmin Paris became the first woman to finish the entire course with just 99 seconds left of the 60-hour limit. One has to wonder how much of her untapped potential she was able to access, especially during those final few minutes before the finish line.

I knew intellectually that I had a lot more in me to do the second 16-mile loop. But that knowledge was nowhere to be found during the steep ascent toward the end of the first loop and the start/finish line. I suppose I could have tapped into a bit of that 60-65% potential, if I knew better how. Definitely a work in progress. My post-race recovery was slower than that after marathons (e.g., in walking down the stairs). Both big toenails were none too happy from all those descents on the course. It took seven days to recover enough to do a test run, compared with the usual four days after a marathon.

The irony is that I actually had resigned myself to running the 25K, after being too late to register for the 50K. I figured I’ll run the 25K and get familiar with the course for next time. I registered for the 25K and was #8 on the waiting list for the 50K. Being that far down the list (so I thought), I didn’t expect much. So, it was a pleasant surprise when I finally got back onto the grid and checked my email after I’d completed the BOSS 14-Day Primitive Living Intensive course in southern Utah. For several days prior, the Patapsco 50K folks had been emailing me that I’d been selected for the 50K.

I have long wondered what those five miles beyond a marathon feel like. In recent years, I’ve been thinking more and more about trying an ultrarace to find out. The Patapsco Valley 50K, located only about a 30-40-minute drive away, was a logistically easy ultrarace to try. (And, yes, 50K should be about 31 miles. So, with Patapsco’s two 16-mile loops, the runners got an extra mile for free. 😊)

This being my first ultrarace, I just wanted to finish. So focused was I on finishing that I didn’t even think to take any photos, though I had my cell phone with me. I was also concerned about the two river crossings. I’d run before in wet shoes from rain and puddles. But, I’d never run in shoes that have been completely submerged in water. So, crossing the river was a new experience. It turned out to be not too bad; the shoes drained and dried pretty quickly. It was easy to know when a crossing was coming up by the cries from runners up ahead. The second 16-mile loop was both harder and easier. Harder because I was more tired and because I knew, e.g., oh, here comes that really steep ascent. But it was also easier because I felt more of a sense of progress toward the finish, e.g., oh, this foot bridge means I’m more than halfway there.

The Patapsco Valley 50K was “minimalist.” Maybe intentionally. Maybe because it’s not a huge race (some 200 runners total). In any case, I love it! Because I’m very much a minimalist runner. The bib pickup the day before the race was minimalist. It could just be me, but, after I parked in the designated lot of CCBC, I wandered around the adjacent athletic fields for quite a while, before seeing a couple of people coming from that very lot with their bibs. It turned out the race organizers had set up a couple tables located diagonally and not far from where I’d parked. I totally missed it. The start of the race was minimalist, basically just 10, 9, 8, … go. The race T-shirt and bib were minimalist. The bib had no timing chip, which I guess is not necessary for ultraraces.

But, there was definitely no minimalism from all the staff and volunteers in providing race support! Kudos to all for a great race! The trail markings were very well done. In a goldilocks way. Not too many to disrupt the natural feel of the run, but enough to not get lost within the dense trail network of the Patapsco Valley State Park. Except for a couple places. But, course marshals were strategically placed, and they got me back on track. Parking was plentiful and conveniently located. Fueling and hydration stations were well-situated and -stocked. PB&J on white bread, cut into quarters, was my food of choice. Also, PB pretzel nuggets. I love the finishers mug, quite unique. Every time I use it brings a smile. That vegetarian chili after finishing was sublime. Whoever made it should get a medal!

And, of course, a huge thanks again to that guy who said, “Get some food first …”

Showing up

The running club at the NASA Goddard Space Flight Center sponsors a semiannual 2 mile “fun run.” In my many years there, I’d run most of the races.

There was a colleague whom I knew mostly from meeting each other twice a year at this race. He was about my age, and we were always in the same age group. There was a period of about five years, the first half of that 10-year age group, in which he and I were consistently the top two finishers. He was faster than me, by about a minute. So, in the age group results, he was always #1 and I was #2.

Except for the two times when he didn’t run, for whatever reason. Each of those two times, when I picked up my certificate for being the top age group finisher, I’d think to myself that this is kind of tainted--#1 with an asterisk (* the faster guy wasn’t there). That I wasn’t really the top finisher for my age group, because there was someone else on campus who was faster and, if he had raced, he would have been the top finisher.

Over time, however, I’ve come to see that there is no asterisk. Because, by the logic of the asterisk, only someone like Usain Bolt, during those years that he was on top of the world, could say that he was the top finisher. There is no asterisk, because, on that day, in that race, I was the fastest in my age group. There could be, and in my case there was, someone else who’s faster. But, they didn’t show up. It doesn’t matter why they didn’t show up, only that they didn’t. This is true of any race, including those at the Olympics.

This is also true of life (for which long-distance running is an apt metaphor).

Woody Allen once said, "80 percent of success is showing up." What did Allen mean by “showing up”? There seem to be two main interpretations. One is literal: 80 percent of success is simply physically showing up at the starting line, be it a race or anything else in life. After all, if one is not there, then there’s zero percent chance of success. The other is metaphorical: showing up intentionally and committing to do deliberate work. The finished work may not be of the desired result, but it provides something to be improved on (one can’t revise a blank page). I think a combination of the two is probably what Allen had meant.

Allen’s quote is like that famous saying found in those wise fortune cookies, “The journey of a thousand miles starts from beneath your feet.” No, actually, it’s from the Tao Te Ching (chap. 64). You have to show up at the beginning of the journey, and you have to show up with the intention to put in the work to take the journey. Similarly, in those two NASA Goddard races, I not only showed up (and the faster guy didn't) but also put in the work to make sure the third fastest guy didn't beat me to the finish line.

In my running life, showing up is part of that eternal question of life: Why I run.

Recently, in my non-running life, an opportunity for “showing up” showed up in my inbox one day in July. The email was from Lorig Charkoudian (MD Delegate District 20), and it began with “We need to show up and keep showing up to build a just and inclusive future—in Maryland, in the United States, and across the planet.” Charkoudian is actually not one of my delegates; I think I got on her mailing list from attending a Third Act Maryland meeting at which she was a speaker. She is also an ultrarunner. So, if she were my delegate, I’d vote for her just based on that (jk, but only partly!).

Anyway, in her email was an invitation to join a Maryland group she was organizing to go up to Pennsylvania to canvass. Something I’d never done before and a bit out of my comfort zone. But, her words stuck in my mind, and I eventually decided to get out of my comfort zone and go find out what canvassing is all about. I decided to “show up,” both literally and, after getting there, go through the training and then knock on doors. The result was not always as desired, but it provided something to be improved on, from door to door and from canvass to canvass.

It was an interesting and fun learning experience, with some eye-opening conversations with my fellow citizens. With less than two months to go before we all decide if we can keep a republic, showing up is all the more important.

Whether in running or in non-running, showing up intentionally is the Tao.

It's still a matter of training, more of it (Jim Thorpe 2024 Marathon race report)

On the train to the start of the Jim Thorpe Marathon in April, I saw the 4:15 pacer in the same car as mine, and I was thinking, I’m going to see her back a lot today, hopefully all the way to the finish line! My BQ time is 4:20, so, to be able to actually run the Boston Marathon, I’d need probably at least 4:15, based on recent trends in registration for Boston.

The Jim Thorpe Marathon, which finishes in Jim Thorpe, PA, is advertised as very BQ-friendly. The point-to-point course from White Haven to Jim Thorpe has a “slight, steady 0.5% to 1% downgrade nearly the entire way.” The course is on trails that follow the old D&L and Lehigh Gorge railroad bed, through the Lehigh Gorge State Park.

There were two ways to get to the start of the race in White Haven. One was to drive there and then take a free shuttle back after finishing. The other was to take the scenic Reading & Northern Railway from the Jim Thorpe Station to White Haven at 6:30 am for the 8 am start (recommended!). My registration receipt combined the cost of registration and train ticket, and I don’t remember how much was for the ticket. But, it was reasonable.

                                Historic Jim Thorpe Station /Visitor Information Center, Jim Thorp, PA

                          Reading & Northern Railway train, the scenic way to get to the start of the race

                                                    On the train to the start of the marathon

The temperature was in the upper 40s when we got off the train at White Haven at around 7:30 am. Perfect, I was thinking and was feeling quite hopeful. It was a bit chilly in the shorts and T-shirt I had on. Bag drop was done by leaving it on the train, to be taken back to the finish area. So, I was glad I brought one of those emergency thermal blankets (that, folded, could easily fit into my hydration vest) for the half hour or so wait before the race began. The start was at the D&L Trail White Haven North Trailhead next to and east of the train stop. The course goes north for a two-mile out-and-back before returning to the Trailhead at around Mile 3 and continuing south to Jim Thorpe.

I crossed the halfway point at ~2:06 so was on track for a runnable BQ (i.e., actually being able to run Boston 2025). I kept up with the 4:15 pacer through M14. My pace slowed just a bit over M15-16, though still keeping the 4:15 pace group in sight. Over M17-20, though, my pace slowed significantly. There were also intimations of leg cramping. So, instead of trying to keep running at an increasingly slowing pace and possibly having to start walking, I tried a new run-walk combination over the last six miles.

This run-walk enabled me to finish with a 35-minute improvement (4:45) over Wineglass 2023 and Honolulu 2023. In this version of the run-walk, for each half mile, I walked the first 0.04 mile, which was how far I walked the first time until I felt sort of recovered, and ran the remaining 0.46 mile. This way, the walk time was not long, and the run was at a pace that, though slow (~12-13 min/mi), did not decrease precipitously as was the case in Wineglass 2023 (~15-20 min/mi). So, I’m happy about the 4:45 in that sense; though, of course, it's still ~30 minutes shy of a runnable BQ.

Looking back, everything leading up to the race went well. There were no interruptions during the 16-week training period. I got to the start line healthy. Planning for the race weekend was right on target. What I wore was just right, before and during the race, including the emergency thermal blanket for the wait before the start. And, I was glad I decided to switch from parking at the Jim Thorpe Area High School and then taking a shuttle to the start (both free) to parking in the municipal lot next to the Jim Thorpe train station/finish area. The latter option was not free but was much more convenient both before and after the race.

Though my time was slow, I don’t think I left much on the course. The 4:15 pacer ran Miles 2-6 too fast (by 10-30 sec/mi). It did get warmer for the last third of the course. But, neither of these affected me that much. Jim Thorpe was my third marathon since before COVID; so, it could be that I still haven’t regained my racing rhythm. (My time for the last pre-COVID marathon, Harrisburg 2019, was 4:05.) Mentally, there was no real problem. I think, physically, I just wasn’t prepared enough from my 16 weeks of training. I think my training volume needs to be higher than the 30-40 miles per week I ran. I may go back to the plan that I’d used to run my marathon PR and first BQ at Pocono 2016 (3:55), which peaks at 60 miles per week. Of course, I’d modified it to account for an eight-year older body. 😊

So, the bottom line: it’s still a matter of training--just more of it.

The Jim Thorpe course has few easy vehicular access points. So, kudos to the race logistics and all the volunteers for setting up the aid stations every two miles or so! Jim Thorpe is a relatively small race, this year with 533 finishers. After the first few miles, if one was not with a pace group, it was basically like a weekend long run. And, because of the limited access to the race course, there were few cheering crowds along the way and, thus, less of a race effect. So, I appreciated the smiling helpful volunteers at each aid station even more than usual.

Overall, this was a really well-organized race, from registration to the finish line, including the unique train ride to the start. One nit I do have, though, was the pickup of my bib and train ticket at the “micro-expo” located next to the railway station. Parking at the adjacent municipal lot was $15 for the five minutes or so needed for the pickup. This was the Saturday bib pickup. The main one on Friday was at a local coffee shop; the parking situation there could be better.

                  "Micro-expo" next to the railway station (basically pick up bib and train ticket).

Again, the train ride to the start was a really nice feature of the race. And an integral one: it’s prominent on the finisher’s medal and race shirt. And, everyone’s favorite? A restroom in every car, so no long wait lines for porta potties!

Jim Thorpe the borough (“borough” in PA is similar to “town” elsewhere) is a popular tourist destination, for its scenery, opportunities for outdoor activities, and history (esp. railroads).

                       Clock tower in historic downtown Jim Thorpe, PA, near the train station

About a mile northeast of his eponymous Borough is the Jim Thorpe Memorial. How Thorpe, who grew up in Oklahoma, ended up in PA has been controversial. He never set foot in Mauch Chunk (name of the Borough before being renamed to Jim Thorpe in 1954). He did go to the Carlisle Indian Industrial School (about 100 miles to the southwest), which is on the official list of 417 federal Indian boarding schools that was the subject of a recently released report of the Federal Indian Boarding School Initiative.

NB: Race shirts for Jim Thorpe were not provided at bib pickup. They were available only at the finish. But, I was so used to picking up shirts at race expos that, even though I saw a lot of people at the shirt tent near the finish line, it didn’t register that I should go there and get mine (!). 😊 Fortunately, when I wrote to the race director, Michael Ragozzino, about it, he helpfully mailed it to me. Not just because of the latter, but I do plan to run Jim Thorpe again. Besides increasing the training mileage, I have a few other ideas on how to better prepare, physically, for the race.

Even pacing vs banking time (Honolulu 2023 marathon race report)

I passed the drummers near the crest of Diamond Head Rd just south of the Diamond Head State Monument around Mile 8 (also Mile 24.5) of last December's Honolulu Marathon. They were still setting things up in their tent under the predawn light (race start was at 5 am) overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The view was, as I’d already experienced in my training runs over the previous weeks, simply gorgeous. At the time, with my legs still feeling good (don’t they always in the first 10 miles of a marathon?!) and the forecast heat and humidity not yet out in full force, I didn’t pay that much attention to those drummers.

Some 16 miles later, though, on the way back up Diamond Head Rd, those drummers were a welcomed sight and sound.

I was using their rhythmic sound to help maintain my pace up the hill. And, then, in passing the drummers, I got a much-needed recharge for the last 1.5 miles to the finish.

Having run the Wineglass Marathon in early October of last year, where I went out too fast, faster than my interrupted training could support (in hindsight), I was a lot more conservative in the early miles through downtown Honolulu. It was also a lot warmer and more humid. The result was an overall much more even-paced run, compared with Wineglass, where I banked some time (unplanned!) in the first 10-15 miles but had to walk quite a bit toward the end.

Banking time usually doesn’t end well, as in Wineglass last year, and is generally not a good strategy. This is so, even though, more even paced doesn’t always mean faster. My finish time for Honolulu was about the same as that for Wineglass (~5:20). But Honolulu, though a lot warmer and more humid, felt a lot better! And, the Honolulu pace chart also looks a lot better than that for Wineglass!

	Honolulu Marathon 2023	Wineglass Marathon 2023
Alternating walking and running	Began Mile 22	Began Mile 20
All walking	None	2 miles
End spurt	~1 mile	~0.5 mile

The Honolulu Marathon is a major international race. Typically, there are 30,000+ runners (40+% of which are from Japan). The race expo was the biggest that I’ve ever seen and very smoothly run. A big attraction of the expo was, not surprisingly, the two pure gold medals for the two winners of the race (each 202.3 g, worth about $15K).

The Honolulu Marathon is also a major local event, with a program covering the entire long weekend, from entertainment to shorter races, ending with the marathon on Sunday. Aloha Friday night kicked off the fun in Waikiki Beach Walk Plaza on Lewers St., with a variety of hula performances, plus those by Kapena, a popular Hawaiian `ohana band, playing a blend of traditional Hawaiian and contemporary music.

The fun continued Saturday morning with the Kalakaua Merrie mile, where several T. Rex’s showed up. Why T. Rex? Well, I kind of knew that Hawaii was involved in the movie, Jurassic Park, but not the details until I talked with one of the staff members of the Ho`omaluhia Botanical Garden. The latter is not the actual site where Jurassic Park was filmed; but driving through its 400 acres of tropical plants (from around the world) right away reminded me of the movie. The actual site (Kualoa Ranch) is just up Kamehameha Hwy (Rte 83) along the east coast of O`ahu.

                                                 Ho`omaluhia Botanical Garden, O`ahu

The main event that all this fun was building up to was, of course, the marathon itself very early on Sunday. My TL;DR summary review of the race: efficiently organized; gorgeous scenery (though less than expected); terrific volunteer support; wonderful Aloha Spirit all around; had a great time running it; would run it again, if the opportunity arises. To be fair, I was there on vacation, and the marathon was a “race of opportunity,” i.e., I didn’t fly out there just for the race.

There are, though, a couple of nits I do have about the start of the race. First, more porta potties are needed! Good thing the starting line was next to the Ala Moana Regional Park, which had restrooms. But, of course, once people realized, long lines started to form there too.

Second, a somewhat bigger nit, corrals should be enforced, along with wave starts! I was assigned the “Blue Zone,” but no zones were visible at all. And, very quickly, as runners streamed into the starting area along the not very wide Ala Moana Blvd. before the 5 am start, practically no space was visible either. It also seemed that the walkers all corralled themselves near the starting line, so it was hard to get into any kind of running rhythm for the first couple miles. Aloha Spirit, sure, but come on, these issues could be easily remedied! The pre-start fireworks, though, were great!

Oh, did I mention it was warm and humid?! Along with the marathon, there was a companion Start to Park 10K, in which some 7,000 people ran. A number of elites from around the world came to run the 10K for heat and humidity training. Molly Seidel, the 2021 Olympic marathon bronze medalist, ran it and was second overall (32:25).

Race day was not as breezy as in previous weeks. The first four miles through downtown Honolulu were quite muggy. It got better just before Mile 4, as the route emerged from Piikoi St. back onto Ala Moana Blvd. with its shoreline breeze. It was around there that I realized that I’d forgotten my SaltSticks, which I’d started to use after that weird cramping experience in the 2018 Potomac Marathon. For the rest of the race, I paced even more conservatively and went for Gatorade more than water at the aid stations.

Aloha Spirit was all around the aid stations, and that Spirit was more and more welcomed toward the latter miles (see video of drummers above). Some of the aid stations had, in addition to water in paper cups, water from tubing connected to hydrants. That’s a first for me. It’s a bit wasteful of water. But, it does save paper cups and is great for cooling off. Of course, one would need to bring their own bottle, which I did. It was the first time I had my own bottle (in a hydration vest) for a marathon. I plan to do that in future races, for more flexibility in hydration and fueling.

As mentioned previously, I was on the island for vacation, and the Honolulu Marathon date just so happened to be on the Sunday before I flew out later that week. So, I was fortunate to be able to have trained there for a month before the race to get more acclimated to the heat and humidity than otherwise. Also, on the many training runs during that month, I was able to get familiarized with most of the race course (miles 1-13 and 20-26). The seven miles between miles 13 and 20 along the Kalaniana`ole Hwy (Rte 72), basically an out-and-back to Hawaii Kai, are the only miles I didn’t run beforehand. I also did some non-race course training runs, the prettiest one of which was the early morning run up Diamond Head State Monument. Highly recommended!

         From top of Diamond Head State Monument, looking northwest toward Waikiki, O`ahu.

Being familiar with a race course has its advantages. One would know, e.g., where a long climb is coming up and could mentally prepare for it. Disadvantages, too—one would know where that dreaded long climb is coming up. 😆

Maybe because Christmas was just a couple weeks away at the time, that Christmas song, Here Comes Santa Claus, kept popping up in my head, during the latter miles especially. And, maybe because its rhythm matched my stride rhythm, I couldn’t get it out of my head. Not sure if that resulted in + or – a few minutes in my finish time. 😊

One way to make the miles go by faster

Or, rather, seemingly go by faster.

Last week, one of my morning runs was “easy-steady and finishing with 4x5 sets of 10 sec strides.” For fun and something different, I decided to do the strides spread out throughout the run, rather than at the end, as follows:

Mile 1 - Warm up

Mile 2 – Easy-steady

Miles 3 to 6 – Easy-steady with 10 sec stride every 0.2 mile

Last half mile – Easy-steady

Miles 3-6 are basically fartlek but regular and rhythmic. For every 0.2 mile, the beginning 10 sec stride covers ~0.03 mile, with the remaining 0.17 mile at the easy-steady pace. Just like a metronome. Well, at least for the first 2 miles or so (Miles 3 and 4).

Initially, I’d check my watch at just about the end of each 0.2 mile and get ready for the next 10 sec stride. But, toward the end of Mile 5, as my legs tired, the next 0.2 mile seemed to come up faster and faster. What, time for another 10-sec stride?! Miles 5-6 were thus not quite as rhythmic, as I kept being late to the beat (top pace plot of the following figure).

Of course, I was not actually going faster--my pace was gradually slowing, though still mostly even. But, because I was paying attention to my legs wanting more time to recover, the 0.17 mile after each stride seemed to fly by. It’s another example of the fascinating mental aspects of (especially long-distance) running. Other than that, however, is it useful practically for, say, toward the end of a race or long training run that I’m struggling to finish? I’d need to experiment and find out. But, training to be able to speed up for 10 seconds or 20 seconds or more, especially when the legs are tired, is obviously good to do. This week, I did the same run, and the latter miles with the strides were already more rhythmic (bottom pace plot of the above figure). Or, perhaps, I was just paying more attention to maintaining the beat, instead of the complaining legs.

Tai Ji Quan and no-running running

My aha moment came, naturally, during a long run: From a Tai Ji Quan (Tai Chi Chuan) perspective, why elites run the way they do all makes sense now. It's like, of course this is how it should be.

It all began with Kelvin Kiptum’s Chicago Marathon run in October of last year, Adharanand Finn’s commentary on the run, and a link in the commentary to Jae Gruenke’s interesting analysis of Kiptum’s form. (Gruenke is founder of The Balanced Runner.) Both Finn and I thought Kiptum’s form is just the natural way he runs. But, regarding Kiptum's forearms in relationship to his chest, our views are a bit different. In part that’s just a difference in description. Finn sees Kiptum’s forearms as “swinging across his chest,” whereas I see them as swinging across his chest to just past the body centerline. The latter means the arms are actually at an angle to the chest, not across the chest, and it’s the hands that swing across and down the chest. (The discussions among Finn, myself, and others occurred on Finn’s Patreon site of which I’m a “patron.”)

It was a fascinating discussion. The sometimes misunderstanding ensued, I think in part, from the difference in western and eastern thinking. That is, in the former, the focus is on structure, on the individual parts (arms, elbows, etc.), and how they affect each other; whereas, in the latter, the focus is on process, on the body holistically. Holistic movements have long been a central part of Tai Ji Quan. From Tai Ji Quan principles, movement always originates from the Dan Tian (~core?), the source of the body's energy. All movements should originate from there, followed by the extremities, the exact positions of which would vary with the individual. These principles apply to running but also elsewhere, e.g., in music, the vibrato of string players, properly done, originates from a relaxed body.

Analyses of videos of elites that show a certain form don’t mean the rest of us should try to copy it (e.g., have one’s arm at this angle, swing the arm to here). One can run either rigidly or relaxed with arms that are in some “ideal” position. I think most elites seem to run that way (Kiptum's), because they all run with a relaxed core. The rest (arm, elbow, hand, etc.) follow from the core. Trying to change one's form by adjusting head, arm, etc. is from the wrong end of the process. I experimented in recent runs with these form adjustments, and they felt awkward. But, when I consciously relaxed my core (still a work-in-progress!), these adjustments just happened, a sort of “no-movement movement.” Whatever the “ideal” arm swing is, it doesn’t come from conscious movement, but from a “no-swing swing.”

So, to run like an elite, don’t run like an elite! 😊

It's still a matter of training (Wineglass 2023 Marathon race report)

 

On the shuttle bus to the starting line of the recent Wineglass Marathon (Corning, NY), I said to the guy sitting next to me that this was the least prepared I’ve been going into a marathon. For several reasons, I’d missed about two weeks in my training, out of a total of 12. My weekly mileage barely exceeded 30, which should have been a clear foreshadower of what was to come. This marathon was my first one since before COVID (Harrisburg Marathon 2019), so there was also some racing rustiness. The result, not surprisingly, was my slowest marathon finish thus far (5:20:17).

This was my fourth Wineglass run and about an hour nine minutes slower than the last time I ran it in 2018. I don't think it's the five years difference in age, at least not the main reason. It's more not being fully prepared from training. The result was a race that went from Boston qualifying (BQ) hopeful (first 10 miles) to walking the last three miles. So, my training was good enough for just 10 miles (maybe 15 if I'm being generous). It's still a matter of training!

Standing near the starting line near Bath, NY, in a group gathered around the 4:20 pacer, I actually thought I was being conservative. Although 4:20 was my BQ time, that would not have been enough to run Boston (see 2024 Boston Marathon qualifier cutoff time). In hindsight, I should have gone with the 4:30 pacer, or 4:40, or 4:45, or anyone under 5:00! The 4:30 pacer passed me at around Mile 15, followed a few miles later by the other pacers. I didn’t even notice the pacers after the 4:40 one, because I was struggling to just focus on getting to the finish, somehow.

As the above pace chart shows, the first 10 miles were on a BQ pace (9:55/min). They felt good—well, the first 10 always do. 😊 But, at around Mile 10, going through the village of Savona, NY, my legs intimated their soon-to-come complaints. The second 10 miles gradually slowed. Still, I didn’t walk except through the aid stations, except I was taking longer and longer to do that and to start running again. Miles 21-23 were walking/running, and Miles 24 to just before 26 were all walking. In those last three miles, my leg muscles just felt weird and occasionally cramped up. I felt that I had nothing left. And, yet, what’s with the last 0.4 mile to the finish?!

Somehow, I managed to run that last 0.4 mile, starting around the middle of the bridge over the Chemung River on Bridge Street, crossing the finish line at a sub-9:00 pace. In a way, I sort of had to: the race photographer on the bridge was taking pictures, as were others closer to the finish along W. Market St. And the crowd was cheering! I had to at least make the finish look good! 🤣

“Sort of had to” seems to apply to almost every runner nearing the finish line. This “end spurt” also occurs in shorter-distance races, but especially so in endurance events. Here are some recent data and analyses on this interesting behavior. Two of my previous posts, “Mind over muscle?” and “No-running running,” also delved into this, including Tim Noakes’ Central Governor Model.

As for the Wineglass race management, I’m impressed every time I run it (See 2013, 2017, 2018). Here, I just note again how impressively efficient were the shuttle busses that took some 5,000 runners to separate marathon and half marathon starting lines, all within one and a half hour. Corning, NY has a population of about 11,000, which, during race weekend, increases by about 50%. More than 2,000 volunteers are typically involved.

Bib pickup at the race expo was at the Corning Museum of Glass, which always makes it fun.

Of course, a bottle of champagne and a companion glass (with paper to wrap it) are both part of the swag. 😊

And, the glass finishers medal is always unique!

BOSS, what else the world could be like, part 1 (heart circles)

 

Shortly after I had returned home in early July from a BOSS (Boulder Outdoor Survival School) 14-Day Field Course in the wilderness of southern Utah, I finished Rebecca Solnit’s A Paradise Built in Hell. It explored what happens in the immediate aftermath of disasters, how survivors, left to themselves, self-organize much more altruistically and collaboratively than what is conventionally assumed and expected. What a hopeful, optimistic view of human nature! “Disaster reveals what else the world could be like,” from the Epilogue, sums up for me the essence of this wonderfully revelatory book. The BOSS course, a challenging, fun, mind-expanding, and life-changing experience that parallels in so many ways the stories in Solnit’s book, also “reveals what else the world could be like.” It was almost as I was meant to have begun the book in preparation for the BOSS course and, then, to finish it during the post-course period of retrospection and reflection.

Campsite at Spring Gulch alcove, southern Utah (second night of the BOSS 14-Day Field Course).

This was my second BOSS course. The first one (in 2015) was a 7-Day Field Course, for which I had written several “BOSS, the ultimate cross-training” posts. The last one was on the BOSS community (links to the other posts are contained in the latter). In this 14-Day Field Course, I gained a deeper understanding and appreciation of BOSS: what it means and why it is important. During the course, in conversations with the other 11 students and three instructors, I talked about the connections between BOSS and the work I was doing on more effective climate crisis communication. After returning home and researching more, these connections are turning out to be stronger and more direct than what I had thought back in Boulder (Utah). I will come back to these connections in future posts.

Of course, there are also many connections between BOSS and running, this being a running blog. 😊 (See the “BOSS, the ultimate cross-training” posts referenced above.) One particular connection has to do with the why. I have often asked myself, why do I run? And, the honest answer is that I have no idea, not really. Similarly, during the 14-Day Field Course, we students at times asked each other, especially in the initial “Impact” phase of the course --and only half-jokingly (?)--why do I pay to starve all day and freeze at night?! No one had a good answer either. Another connection to running--and to the climate crisis--is that running, like all outdoor sports, is being and will be increasingly adversely affected by the warming climate. Here is an interesting example of a map of climate change impacts along the Western States Endurance Run course (oldest 100-mile race in the United States) in the Sierra Nevada foothills. And, finally, a core philosophy of BOSS is “Know more, carry less,” which, being a minimalist runner, resonates with me.

“Know more, carry less.” All the gear I had for the 14 days, before packing (top) and after packing (bottom). During the day, the blanket becomes the “backpack.” The white “Versa” cloth becomes a carrier containing stuff that likely will be needed during the day.

To wrap up this first post on the BOSS 14-Day Field Course, I am going to the end of the course, at the last heart circle that Saturday morning, just before we all packed up and headed back to “civilization.” Periodically throughout the course, we held these heart circles. They provide “a form of group communication and sharing that aims to foster deep connection, empathy, and nonjudgmental presence among participants.” We used a “talking stick” that provided each person holding it a protected time and space to speak (or not), with no one interrupting. The head instructor would start the process by passing the talking stick to his left (“left is law”).

Before that last heart circle, in thinking about what I might say when the talking stick got passed to me, three words came to mind--humbling, grateful, and hopeful--that summed up my two weeks out there in the wilderness. So, while holding the talking stick:

Humbling. As I was preparing in the months before the course, I thought, being a long-distance runner and with the routine training that I do, that that was enough for the physical part of the course. As much as 15 to 30 miles of hiking in one day? No big deal! I regularly run 20+/- miles, and marathons are 26+ miles; I should be fine, so I thought. I also thought that, because I had finished the 7-Day Field Course in fairly good condition, twice that should not be so difficult. Well, I could not be more wrong! In the process, I discovered a new BOSS math, where 2 x 7 is > 14! 😊 If I were to do this course again, I would train very differently and with much more specificity. It was a lesson learned that really should not have been one, because of course I know, in running, training needs to be specific to the goal race. Never again would I look at a hiker with a backpack and think, meh, that is just walking! 😊

Grateful. Wow, where to even start? My gratitude overfloweth. 😊 I am grateful to have had the opportunity to be part of this BOSS course and to be in that grand and hauntingly beautiful landscape of southern Utah. (The Southwest has long been my favorite part of the country, having done fieldwork

Out there in southern Utah, one can see really far into the distance.

there many years ago.) I am grateful for all my wonderful fellow students and amazing instructors who gave me a hand--sometimes more--when needed, as well as for everyone helping and looking out for each other. I am grateful for Michael, our head instructor, who offered me the opportunity to extend my “Solo” phase of the course at the BOSS property. It was there, with BOSS and its staff offering me such warm hospitality and assistance, that I was finally able to start my first friction fire! After the 7-Day Field Course in 2015, I wrote that BOSS is like a home away from home. Now, I can say BOSS is literally my home away from home!

Except for the cord, everything is derived from material found in the wilderness.

Lentil-quinoa stew cooking on my first friction fire.

Hopeful. The average age of a BOSS student is in the early 30s. That was the case for my 14-Day Field Course, with me being an outlier (😊). During the course, in talking about the connections between BOSS and the climate crisis, I lamented that it is such an immense problem that, often times, seems intractable and hopeless. But, when I look at the younger generation, both my fellow students and the instructors, that makes me more hopeful. BOSS matters. What BOSS is and does is important in many ways, including, in addition to the latter, perhaps showing a way out of, or at least to mitigate, the climate crisis. Most BOSS students leave a course as a changed person—for the better. Better values, better perspectives, better priorities, which in turn positively affect one’s relationships with family members, neighbors, friends, and colleagues--and, with oneself. BOSS alums are kind of like “ambassadors” into the world, not just in the sense of helping to publicize BOSS, to get more people interested in taking a course, and to grow BOSS; but also in the sense of being points of positive influences back in their communities. Adapting a quote from Rebecca Solnit’s book, Hope in the Dark, BOSS alums “can make each of us one small republic of force for good.”

BOSS reveals what else the world could be like.