"Pacers are electrolytes for the soul." (Harrisburg Marathon race report)

The title quote is from a Runner's World article by Laura Beachy on her first 100-miler. It's #9 in her list of 15 observations/lessons learned. As I had previously noted (Treadmill as pacer), running with a pacer is kind of like running on a treadmill; the mental effort is greatly reduced.

The advantage of having a pacer is especially significant in ultra races but also makes a big difference in marathons. Over ultra distances, pacers provide such an advantage that rules exist as to when they are allowed. In the Western States 100, pacers are allowed starting at the Foresthill School aid station at ~Mile 62 (http://www.wser.org/pacer-rules/). In the Tahoe 200, for most runners, pacers are allowed starting at the Camp Sacramento aid station at ~Mile 110 (http://www.tahoe200.com/crew-pacing/).

In the Harrisburg Marathon seven weeks ago, pacer Dan provided me with the much-needed electrolytes. In contrast to Pocono 2015 in May, the weather for Harrisburg was almost ideal. The course was a new, flatter one that thankfully avoided those hills around Wildwood Lake. It also replaced the drab, monotonous Industrial Road with the scenic Capital Area Greenbelt and North Front Street along the Susquehanna River. The course maps below are from the race Web site, with my added annotations.

I had no excuses. But, I had pacer Dan.

The result was a new 3-minute PR (3:56:20). I am mostly thrilled and only slightly disappointed in missing the 3:55 BQ (in part because 3:55 would not have been enough to actually get into Boston; I would have needed 3:52:32, based on the 2015 times). After the turnaround near Mile 18, just past Fort Hunter, and going downstream, pacer Dan said we just needed to coast to the finish line. In that moment of what turned out to be premature self-congratulation, I was thinking could this race finally be the one in which I qualify for Boston, such a beautiful day and all!

But, alas, it was not to be. The dreaded Mile 20 came and went without incident. But, in Mile 25, I was off pace (from the 3:55 pace group) by ~20 seconds, and in Mile 26, by ~60 seconds. The problem actually began just before Mile 25, at the aid station. I was just a few steps behind pacer Dan and the few runners who were still with him. The pace group did a 10-second walk through the station for water. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have stopped for water myself and, instead, should have tried to catch up. There was no need for water that close to the finish. I think I just wanted to rest for a few steps, and the water stop provided an excuse. It’s a lot easier to stay with, than to catch up to, a group, especially mentally. In hindsight, what I did was a tactical error—and a valuable lesson learned!

Also, in hindsight, of course, I questioned whether I could have caught up with the pace group, if I had really wanted to. I questioned that if I couldn’t BQ under such ideal weather conditions, then could I ever? I questioned whether I had given up and already decided to not finish under 3:55, just as, according to the Noakes 2012 review article on fatigue, exercise, and homeostasis, those who finish behind the winner may have already, even before a race starts, decided to not finish first. If something really critical was at stake, surely I could have run 3:55? My overall pace was only three seconds slower than my BQ pace. Surely, I could have run three seconds per mile faster? And, of course, there’s that end spurt down Second Street to the finish line. If I had nothing left, where did that spurt come from?

But, I also went easy on myself. I asked whether I got as close to 3:55 as I did because I didn’t give up and because the weather was so ideal. I had all these thoughts, even though a 3:55 wouldn’t have been enough to actually get into Boston 2017. One thing for sure, though: I didn’t walk (other than through the planned water stops), and there was no wall! And, I got the new PR with a shortened 8-week training cycle, coming after Potomac 2015 in September, with relatively low weekly mileage (in the 40s) and only three good long runs.

For Harrisburg, I added a new mental aid to the usual mantras, counting strides, and counting breaths. My predicted finish times from those race time predictors are quite close to my actual times, for all distances but the marathon. For the latter, the predicted time is ~3:45. So, during the race, I kept reminding myself that I ought to be able to run faster than my BQ time. I think that helped my confidence in being able to keep up with pacer Dan. Overall, though, I still need a lot more training for that 90% mental part of a race. Of the mental obstacles discussed in a recent article, "The Racer's Brain," hitting the wall or, more to the point, running through the wall is where my work lies.

On the physical side, I was able to do something different in Harrisburg. In past races, I usually could only take three gels, at around Miles 5, 10, and 15. Usually, around Mile 19 or 20, the body refuses that 4^th planned gel. This time, I took a gel before the start and four more, as planned. I skipped only the 6^th optional one (gel picked up at the Mile 18.8 aid station). The table below shows the miles at which I took gels and then water at about half mile or so later. So, physically, I had more energy in my system in Harrisburg, compared with that in previous races. But, there was also a mental aspect. Previously, I’d wash all the gel down with water. This time, taking a cue from Chambers et al. (2009), who showed how rinsing the mouth with a carbohydrate solution without swallowing affected performance, I left some of the gel in the mouth. Now, I’ve no idea how that affected my performance; but, I figured it couldn’t hurt—though, my dentist surely would not have approved! One other detail: I had both the gooey type of gel (Gu or Clif Shot) and the more liquidity type (PowerGel). Of the five gels, the first three were gooey and the last two were liquidity. The latter type goes down more easily in the later miles of a race. I actually numbered the five gels, so I didn’t have to think about which one to take next during the race.

The new Harrisburg course is great—a much better Boston qualifier! And more scenic: Photo below shows the course near the end of Mile 11, approaching the Harrisburg Sunken Garden along the Susquehanna River, with Harvey Taylor Bridge in the background.

The finish line on Second Street is also much better, for both the runners and spectators.

The race organizers did a nice job in implementing the many changes from last year, with one exception (see below). They were also responsive to runners’ comments regarding Industrial Road and Wildwood Lake and, perhaps (?), to mine on putting the race date on swag. This year, both the finisher medal and sweatshirt (a nice change from tech shirts) had the race date on them.

 

Volunteers were, as usual, superb. A big thanks to them all! During the race, I didn't always remember to do so.

I don’t usually buy race photos. But, this time, the pricing was reasonable enough that I actually bought some, this being a new PR race! If it were up to me, I'd price race photos at $10-20 and include them in the registration (with an opt-out selection) for unlimited digital access. Prints and other value-added products can cost more. So far, only one race I’ve done, RunTheBluegrass, had this option.

I’ve only one small complaint: It took a while to find where the checked bags were delivered to. No one seemed to know, perhaps because this was the first time that the start and end of the race were not co-located.

And, I’ve one suggestion: Put first names on bibs, so one could address other runners by names instead of numbers. In my case, because I was wearing my Wineglass 2013 shirt, some of the spectators called out encouragements to "Wineglass." J

It’s really nice to see the “3” in front of my marathon time. Harrisburg 2015 is my second sub-4:00; so, Pocono 2014 is no longer a fluke! I've three marathons planned for 2016. But, only the two in the spring would be in time for Boston 2017, when I'll still be in my current age group. I'd rather not "age" into qualifying. J For those two spring marathons, I'll be looking for my electrolytes!

Finishing in the rain (Abebe Bikila Day International Peace Marathon race report)

This is a short report; in fact, it could be as short as ...

I finished.

And, that was not just trying to manage expectations. For this race some eight weekends ago, crossing the finish line was almost the sole thought in my mind from start to finish. Well, other than that nagging one from my only DNF at this race last year. Even though I've completed two other marathons since that DNF, I had to complete this one, in order to put that DNF thought completely to rest. The mental aspect of a DNF is very real, and a decision to not finish, as Brian Morrison had said, shouldn't be taken lightly, because "once you drop that first time, it gets easier and easier to throw in the towel." (See #4 in the article, "The long and short of running wisdom.")

As for the race itself, many of the details are already in my Potomac (Abebe Bikila Day International Peace) Marathon race report from last year. Here, I mention just a few more items specific to this year's race.

It began with a rainbow welcoming all the runners.

But, then the rain began. The course was 6.55M out and back along the C&O Canal Towpath, starting from Fletcher's Cove, done twice. It's a beautiful course, shown here before the start, when everything was still calm and dry.

At the end of the first out-and-back, the Towpath was already pockmarked with pools of accumulated rainwater. Initially, I went for the grassy sides of the path--which was a bad idea, as water from the saturated soil flooded my shoes. It turned out to be better, and the shoes actually remained drier, to stay on the path and just run through the pools. They were shallow enough that most of the water splashed away from the shoes. I was wearing my relatively new Merrell Bare Access (MBA) 4 trail shoes.

One very nice feature they have, which I didn't know when I bought them, is effective drainage. So, those flooded shoes soon felt "dry." Being trail shoes, their soles are relatively thick. But, despite the soles, the shoes are remarkably light. The fit is not as snug as that of the Merrell Trail Glove (still my favorite!). But, overall, I like the MBA 4.

Anyway, back to the rain. A lot of credit has to go to the race organizers and, even more, those wonderful, persevering volunteers at all the aid stations and the post-finish recovery area. The rain gradually intensified during my second out-and-back. (I was really glad I had my hat on!) But, it really began to pour not too long after I'd crossed the finish line.

I finished in 4:28. There were actually several races going on at the same time: 3 starting times, with an hour stagger in between, and runners for both the half and the full. So, at any given time, it's hard to know which group(s) the runners around me belonged to. Basically, I was running alone for the entire race. That factor, along with the rain, probably contributed to my relatively slow time. Mostly, though, it was the incomplete training cycle over the previous 16 weeks, interrupted by work-related travel and various other activities. I ran only three good long runs, out of the scheduled 9-10 runs. Plus, the long hot summer. Then, of course, there was that DNF factor. I ran very conservatively, continually reminding myself that, no matter what, I have to cross that finish line!

So, it was a soggy but satisfied drive back home, nourished, along the way, by one of my favorites: Injera!

Running forward ... on climate - An update

An unexpected update.

When I last wrote about the Forward on Climate Rally (the only post I've written thus far that's not really about running), I said that I came back from the rally hopeful, not because I expected President Obama would reject the Keystone XL pipeline, but because of the multi-generational makeup of the crowd, particularly the younger generation. That hopefulness was for the long run (no pun intended!), not for the rejection of the pipeline.

So, today was quite a pleasant surprise! Whether the Obama administration deliberately timed today's announcement to reject the pipeline to be sort of an opening statement for the upcoming Paris climate talks or the upcoming talks spurred the deliberation and decision making, or whether President Obama is truly out of fucks--wouldn't it be nice if politicians would all operate in a low fuckery mode all the time?--he decided on the side of our children and all future generations. We should thank President Obama for his decision. But, I agree with 350.org that the decision (I'd add "probably") wouldn't have happened without all the people that was the movement that fought the Keystone XL. A big thanks should go to all those people.

BOSS, the ultimate cross-training, part 3 (mental)

It had been more than 24 hours since the 12 of us students, along with our three instructors, were dropped off that first night of the BOSS 7-Day Field Course on some road, under a clear and starry southern Utah sky. It was the end of Impact, the first phase of the course during which we had no food, except for whatever was found on the trail, and for which we began with one 1-liter bottle of water. Beyond that initial liter, we had to rely on water sources found along the way, including this pool of muddy water from a recent flash flood. Once properly treated, though, this water--fortified with clay minerals (!)--was quite drinkable. Just don't look. :)

It was probably around midnight, when we finally stopped at the end of what seemed like an endless uphill stretch of some (Bureau of Land Management?) road. A half second later, everyone was lying down, while the instructors went to check out the camp site off on one side of the road. All of us could have just gone to sleep right then and there, in the middle of ... no, actually, spread wide across the entire road. We were all deeply fatigued. And, yet, throughout that long day, we almost didn't feel the lack of food--which really goes to show how much the typical American overeats. I suppose, instead of the usual fast-energy burning cycle, we were all burning fat. (I'm currently experimenting with training the body to burn fat during long-distance running and will come back to this in a future post.) When we got to the camp site, there was tea with electrolyte waiting for us. It did wonders.

We were all totally exhausted but, at the same time, exhilarated, in a subdued way. We all had made it through an incredible adventure. All through that sunny first day of Impact, we were in the dark. We didn't know what was coming up next. It's as Christopher McDougall said, in a recent interview, "Adventure is ignorance. I live my life by stupidity." All 12 of us came to the BOSS course with sufficient physical fitness. Getting through Impact and getting through the course was mostly mental.

"The Marathon - It is 90 percent physical and 10 percent mental during training, but it is 90 percent mental and ten percent physical on race day." - Meb Keflezighi, the only runner to win the Boston Marathon (2014), New York City Marathon (2009), and an Olympic medal in the marathon (silver, 2004). Or, as Yogi Berra (RIP) might have said, “Running is 90 percent mental. The other half is physical.”

There is physical fatigue during a race, of course; but, assuming the "90 percent physical" during training had gone well, the limiting fatigue during a race is mental. A dramatic illustration of the central nervous system apparently shutting the body down was what had happened to Brian Morrison at the 2006 Western States 100. Amby Burfoot's article in Runner's World, "Tim Noakes on fatigue, cowardice, winners and losers," reported on Tim Noakes' 2012 review paper in Frontiers in Physiology. In preparing for this post, I got so engrossed in Noakes' paper that I took a detour and wrote my own summary of his paper. One of the references that Noakes cited, Marcora et al. (2009), e.g., reported on a study that showed mental fatigue adversely affecting physical performance. In another study, Chambers et al. (2009) showed how rinsing the mouth with a carbohydrate solution without swallowing affected performance.

So, how does one train the brain to cope with discomfort in running? Or any endurance activity, such as fast hiking out of a canyon in southern Utah! By making that activity a priority in one's life; by making it part of one's daily routine, i.e., something one just does, without thinking about it; and by the same way one gets to Carnegie Hall: practice, practice, practice--the correct way, of course! There are mental obstacles (negative thinking, too goal-oriented or too rigid goals, self-doubt, not internally focused). And, there are strategies for dealing with mental obstacles, e.g., Work Breakdown Structure and mantras. A great illustration of how to deal with a potential major mental crisis in a race is Scott Jurek's four-step checklist. My experience with the magic of mantras was at the 2014 Pocono Marathon (still my PR race), where "dumb it down!" apparently helped to lower my perception of fatigue. Mental training is as important--perhaps more so (?)--than physical training.

There were two times during the BOSS course when I had moments of doubt as to whether I could finish the week. The first was at the very beginning, during that first shivering night of Impact. I was not tired; we'd hiked in darkness only for a few miles, through terrain similar to what's seen in this photo (taken the next morning; my next-sage-brush neighbor, also my course "buddy," Matt, had also just gotten up).

I carried the minimal gear that was allowed for Impact, using the white, 4' x 4' "Versa" cloth. The latter, for the night, became both my ground cloth and cover. Lying there, I was initially just simply awed by the starriest night sky I'd ever seen. I didn't get a picture of it. But, here's a similar view of a night sky in southern Utah, from Natural Bridges National Monument, a view routinely seen by the ancestral Puebloans.

Then, as the night temperature steadily dropped, and the shivering bordered on being uncontrollable, those moments of doubt surfaced--though somewhat dispelled by a gorgeous moon that appeared later. The next morning, I found out that everyone had similarly been freezing through the night--though, some had figured out early the benefits of spooning. :) The stars were bright; the moon was brighter. Michael later recounted how he'd thought that bright moon was the sun, with warmth not far behind, only to disappointingly realize that it was the moon, with several more hours of shivering ahead! Humor: another strategy for dealing with mental obstacles!

The second time I had moments of doubt was towards the latter part of the week, shortly after my "solo" day began. Each of us was assigned to a piece of land, large enough to not see or hear the others, and left to do whatever each person wanted. I was collecting duff for my shelter (see photo), when, all of a sudden, I felt as I was glycogen depleted, a feeling very similar to hitting the marathon wall, generally around Mile 20. Fighting through those moments of doubt, nearing panic, I slowed down but continued to collect duff. Some minutes later, as suddenly as that depleted feeling arose, it disappeared. I still have no idea what had happened.

In both instances of doubt, I had to mentally push through the physical challenge. For that, I think my marathon training greatly helped. Btw, the solo night was also quite cold, even with shelter, duff, and blanket, but I found an effective way to generate heat periodically through the night--by doing reverse planks (one of my post-run core exercises), which requires only a small change from the sleep position.

There are other similarities in the mental aspects of a BOSS course and a marathon. There were 12 of us in the course, and the entire week was group oriented. Yet, even when together, each of us was separately dealing with challenges. In a marathon, there are many runners, hundreds to tens of thousands, but each is still alone in dealing with the discomfit of putting one foot in front of the other, especially towards the latter miles of the race. Just as, once the marathon begins, I have to trust my training, I also had to trust what I'd learned, once "solo" began.

The BOSS course was humbling. Yet, at the same time, it has given me more confidence towards future Mile 20's. I will have that week of BOSS mental cross-training to draw from.

A BOSS course and a marathon are journeys, both literal and metaphorical. In part 4 of this post, I'll touch on the spiritual journey of BOSS cross-training.

BOSS, the ultimate cross-training, part 2 (physical)

The fatigue was of a deeper kind, at the end of that BOSS 7-Day Field Course, compared with the post-marathon fatigue. I didn't feel recovered enough to run until almost a week after returning from Utah. And, when I finally went out for a 4-mile test run, the legs felt decidedly strange. The physical effects of the BOSS course on my running lingered for several more weeks, especially on the weekend long runs.

I was not surprised. Though I've been training for marathons for some five years now and almost continuously (16-week training cycle x 3-4 marathons a year), I've not specifically trained for walking or hiking. My training plan does emphasize the core, and I've been diligent about that. But, I've not paid much attention to cross-training, despite knowing its importance and benefits. Much has been written about cross-training. Here are two of the many articles: Cross-training and The best cross-training for runners; and one specifically on walking and hiking. Although my overall fitness from marathon training was more than sufficient for the BOSS course, that one-week of intense hiking entailed a use of the leg muscles that was definitely not familiar.

Amby Burfoot wrote a 2005 article comparing the calories burned between running and walking (updated in 2012), based on two academic papers in Medicine and Science in Sports and Exercise and Journal of Strength and Conditioning Research, respectively. The main result of the studies was that running (at 9-10 min/mi) burns more calories than does walking (at 18-20 min/mi), for the same distance, which seems fairly obvious to me. What's not obvious and more interesting was Burfoot's test of something he'd read (not in those two papers)--that fast walking burns more calories than does running at the same speed. What he found was that running is harder at paces slower than 12 min/mi (5 mph), and walking is harder at faster paces. Burfoot didn't really have an explanation. My guess is it's related to the higher efficiency of running in covering distance vs. higher energy cost of the vertical component of the running stride, and 12 min/mi is the pace at which the two factors are roughly in balance. The results of these studies, all obtained using treadmills, probably would also apply to running on level roads.

On trails, however, results could be different. For example, in the 2014 Copper Mountain trail half marathon, I found it actually easier to slowly run than to walk up some of the slope sections of the course (mostly up and down and across the ski slopes of Copper Mountain, CO). My pace for those sections was slower than 12 min/mi. During BOSS week, we spent one rainy night down in one of

Ski slopes of Copper Mountain, CO.

the many canyons of southern Utah; in the morning, flash flooding became a real concern. We got up early, had a quick breakfast, packed up, and headed straight up and out of the canyon. That hike was the toughest one of the course, in part because we're moving at a faster pace than what would have been, had the previous night been a starry one. The pace was still slower than 12 min/mi; but, I don't think any of the students, at the time, could imagine running--even slowly--up that switchback trail, with seemingly endless apparent tops of the canyon. The trail was steeper, though, than the one at Copper Mountain. Plus, we're carrying blanket packs and other gear.

View from top of a canyon in southern Utah, during BOSS 7-Day Field Course

Those apparent tops were actually quite helpful in the ascent out of the canyon; they broke down the hike into shorter segments, each of which was then more manageable. This is similar to the common strategy in marathons of breaking down the 26 miles into 10K's, 5M's, 5K's, the next mile, the next traffic light, or the next runner ("fishing"!)--basically, WBS (Work Breakdown Structure) applied to running (see Running WBS, Intestinal runs, and Running WBS (2)). I'll come back to this mental aspect of running a marathon or hiking out of a canyon later. But, ultimately, it's just putting one foot in front of the other, no matter how much they are complaining.

My marathon training was good preparation for the BOSS course, and the BOSS course was good cross-training for marathons--or, for finding out that I need to spend more time on cross-training! Christopher McDougall's new book, Natural Born Heroes, is a story of Greek heroes, Cretan resistance during WWII, parkour, natural training/method/movement, hero's holy trinity, and a higher purpose. A higher purpose of, e.g., running a marathon or hiking the canyons of southern Utah. Cross-training, writ large, permeates the story, as it permeates a BOSS course.

What makes BOSS the ultimate cross-training is that it's not just physical; it's also mental and spiritual (which I'll get to in parts 3 and 4, respectively, of this post).

Mind over muscle?

That's what Tim Noakes (Univ. of Cape Town) rhetorically asked in his 2012 review article in Frontiers in Physiology, "Fatigue is a brain-derived emotion that regulates the exercise behavior to ensure the protection of whole body homeostasis."

Noakes answered by first showing, in the first half of the article, why A.V. Hill's "peripheral fatigue" and brainless model cannot explain the complex nature of muscle fatigue, such as anticipation or calibrating effort as a function of anticipated work (e.g., beginning a run at a pace that one feels can be sustained for the planned distance) and end spurt or increasing effort towards the end of planned work (e.g., finishing a race with a sprint to the finish line). Noakes then showed how the feedback loop of the Central Governor Model (CGM) regulates performance in order to avoid catastrophic failure of homeostasis. A key idea is that fatigue is illusory, in the mind, and optimal performance is achieved by those who best manage the progression of the sensations of fatigue. Ah, that's why an even, slightly negative-split pace is optimal!

Noakes provided several historical quotes of individuals who had different views on performance from the, until recently, predominant Hill model. I include two here:

Roger Bannister, the first man to run the mile in less than 4 minutes: “It is the brain not the heart or lungs, that is the critical organ, it’s the brain.”

Paavo Nuurmi, who won nine gold and three silver medals in the Olympic Games: “Mind is everything. Muscles are pieces of rubber. All that I am, I am because of my mind.”

Noakes' article is not exactly light reading, but it's well worth the effort!

I'd previously written about the CGM in GPS watch - unfair advantage? and the story of Brian Morrison collapsing 300 yards from the finish in the 2006 Western States 100, as told by Scott Jurek, who was pacing Morrison. My own example of an event consistent with the CGM occurred in the 2014 Walnut Creek Half, where, because of the extra motivation of being exasperated (!), I ran the last 5 miles at near tempo pace, after 6 miles at half marathon pace. Now, compare that with the regular Thursday tempo runs of my 16-week marathon training plan. For weeks 13 and 14, before the two-week taper, the tempo runs are 5 miles, with 2 easy miles warm-up and 2 easy miles cool-down, for a total of 9 miles. Those training 5 tempo miles definitely feel harder than did those 5 miles at Walnut Creek--even though the overall pace of Walnut Creek was some 30 sec/mi faster.

Another example comes from my recent weekend long runs. I'm currently in the final two taper weeks before the Potomac Marathon. It has been a hard training cycle, with the summer heat and humidity. Also, because of work-related scheduling conflicts, I missed a significant number of long runs, and those I did run were 30-45 sec/mi slower. What I try to do in every long run is to run the front 11 miles somewhat slower than goal marathon pace (GMP, 8:58) and the remaining miles at or faster than GMP. As the following pacing chart shows, for the August 9, 16, and 23 long runs of 17, 19, and 21 miles, respectively, I struggled to get the front 11 miles below 10:00 and really struggled to get the remaining miles down to GMP. But, look what happened with last Sunday's 13-mile taper "long run."

Because I knew it was only 13 miles (anticipation), a medium-distance run for me, I ran 30-75 sec/mi faster for the first 11 miles, without a noticeable increase in the sensation of effort, compared with that of the previous three weeks. Miles 12 and 13 were easily faster than GMP. And, I felt as I could have sustained that pace beyond Mile 13! Obviously, I was doing more work during those 13 miles last Sunday, compared with the first 13 miles of the previous three runs, and, yet, my sensation of fatigue was lower.

Of course, the assumption must be that one is physically trained and prepared. A couch potato can't just sit on a couch for 16 weeks and train only the mind. But, what if one is, say, 10% less prepared physically, compared with another; could that 10% be overcome with 10% better mental training? What about 20%? Most intriguing is Noakes' hypothesis regarding second place and lower finishers. According to Noakes, during the final stages of any race, as much as 65% of the leg muscle fibers are inactive and not contributing to the effort. That's a lot of potential effort untapped, to prevent catastrophic failure. But, 65% unused potential is a large safety factor; why doesn't the second place finisher in a close race tap another percent or two to win? Noakes' hypothesis is that, in those cases, "physiology does not determine who wins. Rather somewhere in the final section of the race, the brains of the second, and lower placed finishers accept their respective finishing positions and no longer choose to challenge for a higher finish."

That's quite a statement.

Most of the time, the Central Governor Model does seem to work: most of the time, runners in a race don't die. That illusory fatigue won't let them. But, some runners manage the progression of the sensations of fatigue better than do others; some "run just a little faster and so approach death a little closer," and they prevail just a little bit more. Of course, in Phidippides' case, he kind of overshot the approach a little.

But, what's "a little closer"? One percent of that unused 65%? 5%? In the upcoming Potomac Marathon, which I DNF'ed last year, my main focus will be to just finish, for many reasons, not the least of which is psychological. And, given the hard and irregular training cycle I've had, qualifying for Boston would not seem to be realistic. But, what if I "decide" to BQ and "approach death a little closer"? Could I then tap just enough into that unused potential to prevail?

That would be quite an outcome.

BOSS, the ultimate cross-training, part 1

I finally heard Jessie shouting out to me that I've gone past the entrance to BOSS, the Boulder Outdoor Survival School (“the oldest and largest traditional living skills / survival school in the world”). So zoned out was I towards the end of that almost nine-mile walk back to BOSS, under an early June starry night sky, from where we and the other 10 students had thought—hoped?--was the last stop of our 7-day Field Course, in a clearing next to an aspen grove by the side of SR-12 (aka Scenic Byway 12), in Garfield County, Utah.

The Field Course (which is also offered in 14- and 28-day versions) is, as described in the BOSS web site (http://www.boss-inc.com/), “Ultra-light travel through Southern Utah's mountains, mesas and canyons with little more than a blanket, poncho, and a knife. No tents, sleeping bags, stoves, or backpacks, and definitely no watches, radios, or cellphones.” The goal is “to learn to 'live in the now' … and the skills of Ancestral Puebloan cultures.”

The only running in the course was that for the Cooper test, conducted as part of the first-day orientation. Though I was tempted to run those final nine miles back to BOSS, I was in hiking shoes, and I was really, really fatigued, at the end of that last full day (Day 6) of the course. I got up early the next morning (Saturday), under a pavilion next to the fire pit around which we all had gathered in fellowship the previous night after the “walk” and then had slept in drained bliss. I went out and ran; but it was only a half mile test run, in my hiking shoes, between BOSS and “downtown” Boulder (pop. ~200).

So, why am I writing about an outdoor survival course in a running blog?

Because experiencing a BOSS course was very similar to running a marathon. From that first, "Impact" phase of the course, starting some time after sundown the first night, on some road where we're dropped off, to that last uphill segment, which began from where the group of us 12 students had taken a rest-water stop just north of East Deer Creek and ended at that aspen grove by the side of SR-12, similarities abound. Indeed, the final 100 meters or so felt remarkably like the end of a marathon, with a quickening of my pace to the "finish line."

Here's a view of that clearing next to the aspen grove, from SR-12 (Google Street View).

The similarities are physical, mental, and spiritual. And, for both a BOSS course and a marathon, one goes through those three levels in that order.

But, even before starting off on a BOSS course or crossing the starting line of a marathon, there is something else that's similar: both are minimalist in their core. "Know more, carry less" is one of BOSS' core philosophies. Here are all the required back-country stuff for the 7-day course, including everything I was wearing. The same with food: basic, only what's needed.

Though controversy swirls around minimalist running and shoes, it should be uncontroversial to say no sport or activity is as naturally minimalist as running, in terms of what are absolutely needed to engage in it. In Dressing for running, from cold to warm, I'd noted that, once temperature gets above 100°F, my running gear changes to what are shown in the following photo. (jk--but, only in part!) And, even those items are not absolutely necessary. The Cretan runner or the Tarahumara runner shows how minimal is the need for running gear and food.

In part 2 of this post, I'll provide some examples of the physical similarities between a BOSS course and a marathon, or why BOSS is the ultimate cross-training!

A 19-minute difference (Golden Gate Trail Half Marathon race report)

That's what a proper pair of trail shoes makes. I ran the Golden Gate Trail Half just north of San Francisco three weekends ago, over almost the same course as that for the Golden Gate Headlands Half Marathon, which I'd run earlier this spring. Instead of the Vibram FiveFingers, I wore my new Brooks Pure Grit. And, it was pure joy not having to focus almost exclusively on the trail surface and being able to just run and enjoy the gorgeous views! Here's one from about half a mile out from the start line and looking generally south across Rodeo Lagoon at Bird Island in the background. 5-Mile runners can be seen coming up the Coastal Trail of the Golden Gate National Recreation Area.

And, here's a view from higher up the hill, with Bird Island at about the center of the photo and Rodeo Beach now visible.

These two photos and the following one were taken by my daughter, who ran the 5-Mile race, along with my son. The first half of the 5-Mile course was the same as that for the Half Marathon. There were also the 50K, 30K, and marathon events. The three of us together, we run several local races near home every year, which I really enjoy! The Golden Gate Trail races were our first ones away from home.

The course was tough--but fun!--right from the start, Here's a view of a slower section of the first couple miles, which a friend of mine noted as reminiscent of Moses leading the chosen people out of Egypt to the promised land. Except that it didn't: the top of the climb in the background of the photo, above the stair-stepped section with railings, was just a respite.

Here are the course map and elevation profile (for the Half), both from the race Web site (Coastal Trail Runs).

This race, compared with the Golden Gate Headlands Half Marathon that I'd run earlier this year, was generally better organized (though I'd still happily run the latter). For this race, the course was somewhat better marked, though that could be because it was my second time running it. The start-finish line actually looked like one. More importantly, it was located north of Rodeo Beach, and, thus, there was no run across the beach--and sand in the shoes. The aid stations were better stocked, with more variety; I took mostly orange slices and salty snacks. I brought my own gels. I also refilled my water bottle at the second station (~Mile 9). The volunteers at the stations were very helpful (as they were in the earlier race). There were plenty of food at the finish. Early arrivals before the start of the race got to park closer to the start/finish line, about 1/4 mile away, which was what we did. Later arrivals parked about a mile away. It would have been nice if there were also a few porta potties at the parking lots, beside those at the start/finish line. Registration included a tech shirt, with printed race year.

This race had medals for all finishers and for those who placed. I came in second in my age group (2:15:27), some 29 minutes slower than my PR for the half. For such a course, though, I was pretty satisfied.

My 30-second review of the Brooks Pure Grit: Nice fit, fairly light (for the amount of sole cushion it provides), toe box could be squarer/larger, sure grip of trail surface, carefree running!

So, the bottom line or, rather, the "bottom of the shoes": To properly run a trail race, one needs a proper pair of trail shoes (duh!).

Any given Sunday (Run for the Red Marathon 2015 race report)

Any given Sunday, if all the conditions are perfect and if all the stars are aligned, a runner whose months of pre-race training had gone well and whose proximal days of pre-race preparation had been smooth could actually finish with a time close to that calculated by those race times predictors. Alas, rare is that kind of Sunday!

Leading up to the Run for the Red Marathon (Pocono Summit to Stroudsburg, PA) six weeks ago, I was cautiously optimistic about qualifying for Boston 2016. My BQ is 3:55; my PR (3:59:23) was run at the 2014 Run for the Red. So, I was within 5 minutes of my BQ or within ~7 minutes of being able to actually register for Boston, based on the Boston 2015 times. Most of my long training runs (up to 22 miles) had been within 25 seconds of goal marathon pace (GMP) of 8:58; and, for many of the runs, the second half of the miles had been near or faster than GMP. Because I didn't schedule an early spring marathon, I had a full 16-week training cycle. And, except for a relatively slight injury to my right Achilles tendon, which reduced my mileage for a week or so, I felt great through the entire cycle. Based on my pace for easy long runs as a metric for running progress, I was even considering 3:50 as being possible. If all the conditions were perfect and if all the stars were aligned, I might even finish with a time close to that calculated by the Runner's World race times predictor (3:42)!

Any given Sunday, though, the conditions could be far from perfect and the stars could be drunkenly misaligned. As I was standing near the track of the Pocono Mountain West High School up on Pocono Summit and waiting for the start of the race, I was thinking about the previous afternoon at the Stroudsburg High School, where I was waiting in line to pick up my packet and listening to the repeated warnings given to the runners about the unseasonably high temperature forecast for race day (~mid-60 at the start and ~mid-80 at the finish, some 20 degrees higher than the 2014 temperatures). After talking with the race staff and some of the pacers, I had mixed feelings. Disappointed: After 16 weeks and feeling fairly confident about qualifying for Boston, only to be denied because of weather on that given Sunday. Hopeful: I could adjust my goal time to account for the weather, perhaps to 3:59 (and a new PR) or, more conservatively, 4:08 (to beat my Harrisburg time for all-time second fastest). Or, given how good I was feeling, still try for 3:55. As the clock ticked towards the start of the race, I eventually decided to go with the 3:55 pacer. The fact that the race organizers shifted all the pacers back by only 5 minutes (3:05 pacer did the 3:10, 3:10 did the 3:15, etc.) gave me some additional confidence that 3:55 was not crazy out of the question.

I finished with a 4:12:51, some 13+ minutes slower than my PR run in 2014. The 20 degrees warmer and high humidity weather eventually took its toll in the last 10K. Visually, my face was covered with salt from the sweat. Do I regret not playing it safe? No, not really. Now I know where I am relative to BQ. Here's my pacing for the race. Miles 19 and 20 are when the accumulated heat stress

caught up with me, even though I did a 10-count slowdown at every water stop and drank, more frequently than I normally would do. Miles 22-23 were the worst and where I walked the most; my legs felt as there was nothing left. The last three miles felt better, partly because, as the slower (than 3:55) pacers were passing me, I tried to stay with them. There were quite a few casualties of the heat along the way, mostly related to cramps; though, there was one serious heart-related collapse at around Mile 21 (fortunately, CPR from a passing runner and emergency medical personnel for the race being nearby resulted in a happy ending).

Chervront et al. (2010) is a review paper (Journal of Applied Physiology) on "Mechanisms of aerobic performance impairment with heat stress and dehydration," in which the authors showed the following nomogram (performance decrement v. time):

(This nomogram originally appeared in a paper by Ely et al. (2007) on "Impact of weather on marathon-running performance," in the journal Medicine and Science in Sports and Exercise. A summary was later provided in Marathon Performance and Temperature.) A 3:00 marathoner at 25C (about the average temperature for that Pocono Sunday) would expect about a 21-minute slower time. For a 4:00 runner (like me), even more. Even using the 3:00 numbers (180 min., 25C curve, 12% decrement), a 4:00 would expect about a 29-minute slower time. Based on the latter, my time of 4:12:51, which is 18 minutes slower than my BQ, would be, if adjusted for temperature, 11 minutes faster than BQ! Too bad BAA doesn't allow for such adjustments. :)

About the Pocono Marathon itself, I'd previously written in detail for the 2014 Run for the Red. This was the 10th anniversary of the race; and, this race has become one of my favorite marathons.

With a field from 600 to 1,000 runners, the race has a nice intimate feel to it. Volunteers are superb, as is the community support along the way, especially at the half way point. With the heat this year, many people who lived along the course were out with sprinklers, ice, and wet towels, all very welcomed! One difference this year were the cars on some of the roads, which I don't remember seeing in 2014. Police cruisers tried to "pace" the cars behind them, to slow them down; though, some of the cars still zipped by the runners pretty fast. Post-race food was standard, but that didn't matter much to me; I didn't feel like eating anything, except for a few slices of orange. The pasta dinner Saturday night hosted by the local Rotary Club was very nice and a good deal; I hope they continue doing that for future races. The course is net downhill but kind of deceptive, because most of the net elevation loss comes during the first 2/3 of the course, whereas the last 10K+ is rolling to hilly.

The race tech shirt has a minimalist design, which I favor.

I also really like the stadium finish at Stroudsburg High School. Clock at finish showed gun time.

Overall, on that given Sunday, despite the significant heat-caused slowdown in the last 10K of the race, I was happy with my decision to go for 3:55 and satisfied with my time of 4:12:51 (my third fastest). I guess my strategy of running faster to finish before the temperature got too high didn't quite work! :) My temperature-adjusted 11 minutes faster than BQ is 3:44, which is pretty close to the 3:42 calculated by the Runner's World race times predictor. Coincidence? I'd like to think not! And that gives me much confidence, that I "technically" BQ'ed. :)