Mental pacing

Couple of weeks ago, I was at a conference in Madison, WI, and the president of the organization tried something new and organized a daily morning run. On one of the mornings, I joined the group of runners in front of the hotel where the president was staying, and we all headed down to Lake Monona, to the southeast of the city. Once we got on the trail that went around the lake, one of the runners said the pace was too slow, apologized, and ran ahead. I asked what's his training pace, and it turned out to be one and a half minute or so faster than mine. I hesitated for a moment and then decided to try and see how long I could keep up with that pace. What then happened I found quite interesting and really showed how key is the mental part of running. For the first 5-10 minutes, I was definitely breathing harder than usual, but I actually more or less kept up without too much problem. As the time passed, I kept waiting for my legs or lungs to want to quit. But, the legs just kept on going, one after the other. I was even able to get out a word every now and then, in between the heavy breathing. It wasn't until some 35-40 minutes later, after we'd gone around the southwestern end of the lake, turned around, and started to head back to the hotel, that I said to my running partner, you go ahead, I need to slow down a bit. So, basically, with the pacing from my faster colleague, I did the middle 35-40-minute part of the ~65-minute run at my tempo pace, way longer than I've ever done a tempo run; and I ran probably my fastest eight miles in training!

Ultrarunning and BSA's STOP checklist

In Scott Jurek's book, Eat & Run, he described following his four-step checklist on several occasions, particularly during his third Western States 100 (2001), when he suffered torn ligaments at mile 44. The four steps are (1) Feel and acknowledge one's emotions in response to the situation; (2) take stock and assess the situation; (3) think about what can be done to remedy or improve the situation; and (4) separate negative thoughts and emotions from reality and what needs to be done. This checklist obviously worked for him; he won the 2001 race, his third of seven consecutive Western States 100 wins.

Jurek's checklist reminds me of the Boy Scouts' STOP checklist, also a four-step measure to take when something unexpected and bad happens (e.g., getting lost on a hike). The four steps of STOP are (1) Stay put and thus more easily found by rescuers; (2) Think about what resources are available, if the situation should extend into overnight; (3) Observe the surroundings and look for shelter; and (4) Plan what can be done to conserve energy and be as comfortable as possible. Steps 2-4 of the two checklists are quite similar. Step 1 is less obviously but nevertheless also similar. Jurek is talking about getting all those natural feelings that arise in response to some unexpected situation out of oneself and away, so that one can then proceed to step 2. The Boy Scouts are taught to stay put and not worsen the situation by frantically looking for a way out. Staying put allows them to calm down, so that they too can then proceed to step 2.

The two checklists are similar, because they are, of course, just specific instances of general problem solving.

Dances with Dirt at Devil's Lake, a review

Dances with Dirt is a series of multi-trail race events (10K, half marathon, marathon, 50K, 50M). For 2012, there are four events, in Florida, Indiana, Wisconsin, and Michigan (http://bit.ly/LYqzxn). Today's event (http://bit.ly/LRqOig) took place in Devil's Lake State Park (and Ice Age National Scientific Reserve), near Baraboo, WI. This was my first trail race (half marathon) and so much fun! I'm hooked! Comparatively, road races are rather prosaic.

I've only one complaint about today's race: It should have been wave started. Half of all the participants, about 600, ran the half marathon, and, without a wave start, the usual congestion resulted but more so. The first two miles is basically an 800-ft climb on a single track trail. So, a good part of this section of the race is more a congested hike. At one point, someone behind me yelled out that someone dropped an iPod. Another person said just pass it up! There were only a few places where the trail was just wide enough for an "on your left." After two miles, the congestion eased a bit. After the aid station at 4.2M, the trail widened into the loop part of the course, and the rest of the race was fine.

The aid stations were well run (water, Gatorade, and GU), with cheerful, helpful volunteers. The station at South Bluff, with a 300-ft drop on three sides and a view of the valley below, got to be one of the most scenic of all races (worth it to lose a minute or so to enjoy!).

Other than the elevation changes, what characterizes this course is the rugged terrain. Definitely a heads up and eyes down course! Lots of roots and rocks and forehead-level leaning trees! There were several falls and near-falls by runners who were at around my pace. The first half of the fourth mile, particularly, was basically a bouldery swath of hillslope masquerading as a trail. Based on the event Web site, I was a bit concerned about the possibility of running through water in some of the low parts of the course, as I've not run in totally soaked shoes before (running in rain, sure, but that's different). As it turned out, this year has been so dry that the wet shoes problem didn't exist. As least from running through water. My shoes were still pretty wet, from the humidity and lots of sweat.

The race organizers overall did a super job coordinating the five different races, with overlapping times and course sections. I definitely would recommend the Dances with Dirt series in general and the Devil's Lake instance in particular.

Finally, a note about shoes. I ran in my Merrell Trail Glove and intimately felt the rough terrain! There were especially a few memorable landings that "made their point." For future similar races, however, I will not switch to one of those newer, more cushioned, zero-drop shoes, because I think the greater sensitivity of minimalist shoes like the Trail Glove makes me more aware of the terrain I'm running across, reminds me to take shorter and lighter steps, and allows me to react faster when I do misstep and, thus, minimize injuries.

It's all relative

Even though I've been running since high school, my maximum distance per run, until graduate school, was about three miles. It didn't seem I could go farther. Then, one day in graduate school, I went running with a friend and followed her all the way for some six miles. I was amazed. Six miles or about an hour worth of running became my perceived limit. Even when my weekly mileage got up to 30-40, that was usually from something like 6 miles x 6 days. This limit persisted through jobs, marriage, and family (many moons). Then, last year, training for the 2011 Marine Corps Marathon (my second one ever), I followed a 20-week program that had long runs starting at around 10 miles and maxing out at 20 miles. My usual six mile run became part of my weekday short runs, and a half marathon race became not a big deal, just a medium-length weekend run. The marathon, however, remained, both physically and mentally, a race of personal challenge, even as I'm contemplating going beyond (JFK 50). I'm currently reading Scott Jurek's new book, "Eat & Run," chronicling his journey to and through ultramarathons (and plant-based diet), with fascinating accounts of his training for and running the Western States 100 (seven consecutive first place finishes), among many others. I've not finish the book yet, but, already, the marathon has also become not a big deal--at least mentally!

Tough run ...

This morning, I did the 12th workout of the PowerBar Intermediate Marathon Program (targeted at the Baltimore Marathon), a "1:30 easy run." I picked one of my 10-mile routes (actually, 9.83 according to my new GPS watch), which, since last fall, I've been running in the low 1:30's, usually with one water stop but sometimes nonstop. Today's was not one of those; today I took five water stops, and I needed--or, at least I thought I needed--every one of them. It felt different today. And, of course, I spent the rest of the day going through in my mind the whys. The obvious would be the heat (mid to upper 80s) and not yet being acclimatized. Another would be last Wednesday evening's track workout from which I might not have fully recovered. But, it's the thought of age catching up that nags. The decline in potential in long distance running is supposed to be very gradual, and I've at least a number of years to go before the potential declines to that of someone in the late teens. And, of course, depending on how one trains, the adaptation curve could be kept above the aging curve beyond the average. That nagging feeling lingered, until I took a look at the past dates that I've run this route. That's when I smiled. All the runs in the low 1:30's occurred in the fall, winter, or spring. The slower ones, including today's, were all in the summer. Ergo, it must have been the heat!