Dressing for running, from cold to warm

Many moons ago, back in grad school, I went out for a run on a quiet weekend morning, heading west from my rooming house on Ithaca's East Hill. It was in the depths of winter in Central New York, and I was fully layered up. Wind chill temperature was -20°F. I clearly remembered that, because, when I got to the bottom of the hill and into downtown Ithaca and looked up at the digital thermometer above the entrance to Tompkins Trust Company, just north of Ithaca Commons, that was what the thermometer showed. It was a gorgeous run. I saw very few people and pretty much had the run of the city. The -20°F is still my record for the coldest run.

Over the decades since, running gear has tremendously advanced, in material, design, and feature. Even for someone like me, with a minimalist inclination, I've two bins full of running gear stacked in the "running corner" of the house. Back in Ithaca, for really cold weather running, I'd put on a few layers of cotton shirts, a hooded cotton sweatshirt, a non-breathable windbreaker, a pair of cotton sweat pants, and gloves. Nice and simple. Well, at least simple. All that cotton without ventilation became not so nice, after a few miles. Over the subsequent decades, after lots of experimentation, my dressing for temperature has become much more finely calibrated. Nowadays, I would go out almost always dressed just about right for the temperature forecast for the latter part of a run. The following table summarizes what works for me. Not included in the table are three items that don't change with temperature: headbands, toes socks, and shoes.

Notes: For shirt, S = short-sleeved and L = long-sleeved. For the rest, L = light, M = medium, and H = heavy. For Gloves, W = wool and S = shell. MCM = Long-sleeved shirt from Marine Corps Marathon 2013, heavier than the usual tech shirt.

Here are what I typically would wear for temperatures colder than 10°F.

Here's a closeup of light hat and light balaclava ("Buff") for 10-20°F, as modeled by Platypus, my running partner.

For this past Christmas, my kids gave me one of those hi-tech running jackets (yellow one above), and I'm really enjoying and appreciating the new-found comfort running in it. About a year ago, I did a mid-week medium long run of 12 miles that began at around 8°F. I had on my usual < 10°F gear, except for the non-breathable windbreaker--the very same one from grad school! It felt a bit on the warm side. I knew I was gradually getting wet underneath, but overall I felt comfortable. After I got home and took off the wool gloves and shell, I noticed white stuff falling but wasn't quite sure what it was. Then, I took the windbreaker off (soaked!), looked at the inside, and realized what the white stuff was--ice crystals! With my new jacket, that's no longer a problem. :)

Once the temperature gets above 50°F, it's just one short-sleeved shirt and one pair of shorts, plus a wide-brim sun hat, as needed. And, it pretty much stays that way, as the temperature climbs towards summer. My record for the warmest run is in the upper 90°F. But, once it gets above 100°F, my running gear changes to the following:

jk!

Can PR's buy happiness? (Harrisburg Marathon race report)

Or, are they like money and material goods: the more one has the more one wants. If happiness is the ratio of what one has to what one wants, then it'll always prove elusive. The only way is to want less. But, does that also apply to PR's? Is it also the ratio of PR's one has to PR's one wants?

What got me thinking about this was the Harrisburg Marathon that I ran in early November of last year. After the DNF at the Abebe Bikila Day International Peace (Potomac) Marathon in September, my main goal for Harrisburg was to just finish, so as to rid myself of the "mental thing," that vague but nagging fear that the next time I'll also not be able to get beyond Mile 19, which was where I had to stop at Potomac. Now that I've gone beyond Mile 19 and finished a marathon, I feel my psychological recovery is complete--though, see Walnut Creek (!).

The race organization for Harrisburg was very well done. The facilities of City Island, especially the Carousel Pavilion and plentiful parking, made for easy logistics for packet pickup, pre-race waiting, and post-race food and results posting. The volunteers were super, at the start/finish and along the course. There was not much of the usual announcements and ceremonies at the start of the race on Market Street Bridge--it was almost too efficient! I knew the race had started only because everyone around me began to run. The course was generally scenic, except for couple miles along Industrial Road right after the halfway point. The 3-4 miles along the Susquehanna River were especially enjoyable, both going out (Miles 8-11) and coming back (Miles 23-26), despite my struggle over the latter miles (see below). Harrisburg was a relatively small race (< 1,000 runners), and spectators were present only along certain stretches of the course. So, at times, runners had to be their own cheering sections. The final crossing of the narrow pedestrian bridge to City Island and finish line, though, had crowded and loud spectator support! Among the post-race food, I didn't find the advertised hot chocolate; but, there was coffee--even better! I didn't stay at the race HQ hotel, because it only had valet parking. Instead, I stayed at a hotel just a few blocks away from City Island. It wasn't fancy but had everything I needed for a restful pre-race stay. Zippered race shirt was quite nice, though both the shirt and the finisher's medal should have included the year.

Overall, I was satisfied but not thrilled with how I ran Harrisburg. At the start line, I saw the guy who had paced me to my first sub-4:00 at Pocono in May (2014) holding the 3:55 pace sign. That time being my BQ, I briefly flirted with the idea of following him. Fortunately, I decided to follow my plan and just make sure that I finished. As it turned out, I stayed with the 4:00 pacer for most of the first 18 miles. But, I lost him between Miles 18 and 20, in Wildwood Lake Park, on the Wildwood Park Trail, which was basically a series of hills. I lost some time there though not too much. But, it took quite a bit out of me, and that eventually caught up with me starting with Mile 23. Alex Hutchinson had an article last year on some Australian research on running hills that provided some valuable pointers on running both uphill and downhill. I actually run hills very similarly to what this research recommended. So, the problem I had in Wildwood Lake Park wasn't my hill techniques. The problem was more a mental one. A friend at work had warned me about the "hill part" of the Harrisburg course, by which I thought he'd meant one hill. When one turned out to be at least four (maybe more; lost count), that, I feel, contributed to my slowdown starting with Mile 23.

Could I have done more to not have slowed down? Among the many elements of athletic IQ, performance statement (mantra) is one that had worked so well for me in Pocono ("it's 90% mental, stupid" or "dumb it down"), but, I forgot all about mantra for the entire race! Same for strides, which I've been practicing during training runs. Perhaps a few strides during those latter miles could have waken up the legs (?). Also, perhaps I should have taken the fifth gel after Mile 20.

In any case, I still ended up with my second best time (4:08). So, I should be very happy, right?

Well, I wasn't and that's what got me thinking about PR's and happiness. By the time of my slowdown at Mile 23, I knew I couldn't finish under 4:00. And that realization led to a noticeable lack of motivation in those last few miles. It's as if I've been spoiled: Now that I've run 3:59 (Pocono), to finish with a 4:0x something seems no longer of great interest any more!

A Wall Street Journal article last November, Can money buy you happiness? (in case this links to a restricted article, try google "can money buy you happiness article"), reported on some recent research that suggested wealth alone does not provide any guarantee of a good life. (Not too surprising!) What matters a lot more is how the wealth is spent. "For instance, giving money away makes people a lot happier than lavishing it on themselves. And when they do spend money on themselves, people are a lot happier when they use it for experiences like travel than for material goods." Here's another similar article on "buying happiness." Getting back to where I began this piece, if happiness is the ratio of what one has to what one wants, the only way to really be happy is to want less. But, that doesn't necessarily mean one should strive to have nothing and to want nothing. It's a matter of what one does with what one has. It's not wanting money and material goods for their own sake.

So, happiness can be the ratio of PR's one has to PR's one wants. And, similarly, it doesn't mean one should strive to have no PR's and to want no PR's--and be, what, a couch potato? It's not wanting PR's for their own sake. But, rather, it's regarding PR's as markers, bracketing the growth in between, along the way in the journey of running--or in the journey of that metaphor for running, life. :) With this understanding of PR's, I feel a lot more inspired, as I start Week 3 of my 16-week training cycle, aimed at a repeat run of, and a repeat try for BQ at, Pocono. For more inspiration, I can also look towards the overall winner of last year's Harrisburg, with a time of 2:40:23, the 54 year old Doug Fernandez, who said "age is more mental than physical" and "people get old, prematurely, in their minds."

How true.

Running metric (2) - addendum

In Running metric (2), I mentioned the use of easy training pace as a metric for running progress, that, based on my 5K PR, the optimal easy long run pace is between 9:14 and 10:42, and that my current long run pace is at the fast end of that range (including walking water/fuel breaks); which is within about 15 seconds of my Boston qualifying (BQ) pace or goal marathon pace (GMP) of 8:58. Easy pace is generally about 1-2 minutes slower than one's goal race pace. For my GMP, that'd be at around the slow end of the above optimal range.

More and more, I'm thinking that the slow end is too slow. That's just too big a time gap (between training and racing) to make up. Training at the slow end means conditions have to be ideal for everything during a race. And, that's risky in the case of a BQ GMP, which is the slowest qualifying pace. It'd be better to set a GMP at faster than the qualifying GMP; I'll call it "training GMP," which, in my case, I'm setting at between 8:00 and 8:30. Relative to the latter, my current long run pace would be about 0:45 to 1:15 slower. In recent long runs, the last miles (up to 4 now) have been 8:30 or faster. Come race day, I want my mind to be used to holding that pace to the finish!.

Though it may be "training GMP," a pace between 8:00 and 8:30, corresponding to finishing times of between 3:30 and 3:43, is actually realistic; the top finishers of the Pocono Marathon in my age group were all in the 3:30's.