Mental lapse (Rock 'n' Roll Washington DC Marathon race report)

Of course, at the time, as I was going up the hills on Fort Dupont Drive SE in Fort Circle Park (Mile 23 of the Rock 'n' Roll Washington DC Marathon), what I was doing didn't occur to me as a "mental lapse." I had one gel in my wrist wallet that was planned for Mile 20; but, I couldn't get it out of the wallet while running. With six miles left, I figured I'll just skip it. Once I got to those hills, however, I thought maybe I better still take it. So, I slowed to a fast walk, got the gel out, and was then supposed to pick up the pace again, as I down the gel over the next 1/4 mile or so. Once those legs started walking, however, they just kept on walking! I rationalized by telling myself that a fast walk up a hill is not that much slower than a slow run. :) The following map of the last 10K of the course shows the location of the Fort Circle Park hills. (All maps shown are annotated versions of parts of the course map on the RnR Web site)

By the time I finally convinced my legs to get moving again, about a minute had gone by. For that Mile 23, my pace ended up some 90 seconds slower than the average of the previous 22 miles. So, by how much did I miss my BQ? 49 seconds!

One cause of the mental lapse, I think, was my overconfidence. I thought I had it. I was passing people for much of the front half. Now, usually, that would have been of some concern. But, I wasn't straining; my average pace of 8:47 felt easy. Then, as I was heading into the hairpin part of the course (First St SW, Mile 16), I saw the 3:40 pace group coming out. I didn't know at the time how far in the hairpin goes; but, in my mind, seeing the 3:40 just added to my confidence. Unjustifiably, as it turned out. I was actually about 1-1/2 mile behind the 3:40 group, at that point, or about 13 minutes. 3:40 plus 13 is 3:53, which is borderline for me actually getting into Boston. My BQ of 3:55 would not be sufficient, based on the past few years. Had I known all this at the time, that mental lapse seven miles later might not have occurred. About a mile later, as I was heading out of the hairpin (2nd St SW, Mile 17), I saw the 3:55 pace group still heading in towards the turnaround point. That, totally unjustifiably, solidified my confidence. I was thinking to myself that I just have to stay ahead of the 3:55 group and try to catch up with the 3:40 group--I got it! I was still confident, as I was approaching the finish line. Or, I must have been hallucinating. Because, when I checked my GPS watch, I was sure I saw 3:52 something. So, I was all smiles crossing the line. The digital "5" and "2" could easily be misread--especially when one's mind is zoned out!

At least my finish line photos showed an exhilarated, photogenic runner!

What I didn't ask and should have asked of the pace groups was from which corrals did they start? That information was critical, because several minutes separated each of the starting corrals/waves (some 30 in all). Similarly, shortly after coming out of Fort Circle Park, about half way into Mile 25 along Minnesota Ave SE (see course map of last 10K above), I passed a different 3:55 pacer, all by herself at that point. But, without knowing her starting corral, I couldn't determine where I was with respect to my BQ.

Overall, my strategy for the race went according to plan (pacing, fueling, water stops, etc.) and worked well. As planned, I took a gel just before the start, four dates each at Miles 5, 10, and 15, and that gel at Mile 23. I skipped a couple water stops; otherwise, I sipped about half a cup over a 10-count walk through each stop.

What happened during Mile 23 was a tactical error resulting from a 60-second mental lapse. I should have slow run those Fort Circle Park hills. As the following pace chart shows, except for Miles 23 and 24, I maintained a generally even pace, with just a very slightly positive split. And, I was able to bring the pace back down to ~nine minutes again for the last two miles. There was no wall.

I should have BQ'ed. I had it but then lost it. The fact that a mental lapse-free finish time would most likely not have been enough to get me into Boston 2017 is small consolation.

I do like very much that, between 2013 (the other time I ran this race) and this year, my pace improved by about one minute or a finish time of about 26 minutes, and there was no "hockey stick" finish. Plus, my finish time of 3:55:49 was a 31-second PR, relative to last November's Harrisburg Marathon; and, unlike Harrisburg, the new PR was run without a pacer. Like fine wine, getting better with age!

This being a Rock 'n' Roll race, there was plenty of music. Loud music. Though, in some stretches of the second half of the course, it was too quiet. Part of the reason might be that, of the total field of about 20K runners (for marathon and half marathon), only about 1/8 ran the marathon. No wonder, then, once the marathoners split away from the half'ers just before Mile 13 and headed along East Capitol St NE towards the Supreme Court, it got noticeably quieter!

Overall, the race was well managed. The course was very runner friendly. The corral/wave starts created space for everyone to run his or her pace, even though this was a big city race. UPS gear check was efficient. The first 2/3 mile along the wide Constitution Ave., with the Washington Monument on the left and the White House on the right, allowed the runners to sort themselves out and avoid the usual congestion. Spectator support was great, especially through the Adams Morgan neighborhood, shortly after the hill up to Calvert St NW. And, all the support people at water stops were very friendly and efficient. A big thanks to all of them!

The weather was also well managed. Rain was forecast up until a few days before the race. Instead, it was just cloudy, with temperatures in the 50's for the entire race. Almost ideal.

And, for finishers, a nice "heavy medal" and light jacket. Though, for the latter, I would have preferred one without "FINISHER."

I've just a few gripes. Pacers were not well marked. At least I didn't see any in my starting corral (#8). Also, their starting corral numbers should be visible on them somewhere. I much more prefer the chip on the bib, instead of the loop kind held by shoe laces. I like to tie my shoes with just the right amount of tightness, and looping the laces through the chip interferes somewhat with that. Porta- potties: Start line area could use a few more (well, most races could use a few more!).

I now have just one more chance to qualify for Boston (2017) in my current age group, before I would age into qualifying (for 2018)--which would be far less satisfying. I've a shortened 8-week training cycle before the Pocono Marathon in May, to figure out how to lapse-proof the mental part of my race.

My legs were like, whoa, running outside on the road!

Two Saturdays ago, I participated in a stride clinic offered by my local runners club (MCRRC). Then, on the day after, I did my weekly long run (20M) at a pace, for the first time ever, faster than my BQ pace--by 10s. Coincidence? I think mostly so. Now, even though much of what I heard at the clinic I had already read from books and articles, what I did learn that's really important was that what I thought I've been paying attention to (mindful of) and doing in my training runs might not have been quite what I actually have been doing, at least not all the time. During that Sunday's run, I was more mindful (than usual) of my form and stride, and, perhaps, doing that improved my efficiency and thus pace. Still, I think it's mostly coincidence that my "PR long run pace" (8:48) immediately followed the clinic. I'd give more credit to the two Snowzilla-imposed treadmill runs (18 and 19M). I think my legs were just so ecstatic to be running outside that they were beside themselves. :)

The following pace chart shows the mile splits for both the post-clinic run (Feb. 7) and yesterday's 21M run on the treadmill (Feb. 14). The two red lines mark my GMP (8:58) and stretch GMP (8:30). Because 8:58 would not actually get me into Boston (need ~8:51), I've been mentally using 8:30 as the goal pace. For the Feb. 7 run, around Miles 5 and 10, I was fumbling with gloved hands a plastic bag of dates; and, around Mile 15, PowerGel. So, the pace slowed a bit for those miles. The chart also shows a generally even pace running outside vs. a controlled negative split pace on the treadmill.

So, what happened on Feb. 7? It was a training run, just myself, without the advantage of a race situation. I wasn't really trying to run sub-GMP; the pace just felt relatively easy. I can think of two possible factors, one related to all those treadmill runs I've been doing recently (14 so far this year, including this morning's) and the other related to some changes I've made in how I do lunges in pre- and post-run exercises.

A treadmill enforces pace--and enforces it absolutely! It's the "perfect" pacer. Running outside, of course, is always more preferred. But, when it's icy or sub-zero windchill, though the scenery may still beckon, the quality of the run will necessarily suffer. In contrast, on a treadmill, I can plan out exactly each mile split, for each kind of run (tempo, easy, etc). Perhaps, from all those times when I opted for quality over scenery and ran on the treadmill, I've gotten used to running and sustaining sub-GMP's. Perhaps, the treadmill has trained my mind to be comfortable with dropping ~7s per mile (0.1 mph) in the last 10K of a long run, from what's already a sub-GMP just before the 10K. The latter kind of 10K was what I did on the Feb. 14 run. Because running on a treadmill is like running with a pacer, a particular pace seems easier on a treadmill than it is on a road by myself. The difference in perception of effort from increasing by 0.1 mph from mile to mile is very slight; and, yet, from the first to the last mile of the last 10K of a long run, there's a 35-second or so difference in pace!

As I had noted in my post on those Snowzilla runs on the treadmill, if one is mindful about running, then whether it's on a treadmill or on a road or trail outside should make little difference. By breaking the long run into 5-mile segments and focusing on the current segment and its components (each mile, each 0.1-mile, etc.), I'm starting to find running on a treadmill to be, well, not too bad. :) At least, I no longer think of it as "dreadmill"! I think these treadmill runs are helping to strengthen the mental aspect of long runs. Being mindful is not just of form and stride, but also of fatigue. Being mindful of fatigue, though, does not mean dwelling on it, but, rather, acknowledging it and moving on. So, to the mantra that was so useful in Pocono 2014, "dumb it down," I now add, "let it pass."

Some months ago, I began doing lunges that are in the pre- and post-run exercises as if they're part of Tai Chi Chuan (Tai Ji Quan)--slowly, mindfully. I think the strengthening of the legs, as a result, is one factor in the recent pace improvement. Here are couple illustrations of the lunge element in Tai Chi (from googling "taiji images").

There could be other factors. I've been experimenting with dates replacing gels. In the Feb. 14 run, I fueled with 4 dates each at Miles 5, 10, and 15. No gels at all. But, I don't know yet what difference fueling with dates makes. I haven't yet decided how exactly I'll fuel for the upcoming March RnR USA marathon.

Regardless of whatever explanatory factors, I feel the Feb. 7 run is another occurrence of punctuated equilibria. Right now, I'm feeling cautiously optimistic about BQ'ing in the March race. :)

And those legs? They're still talking about that morning's high!

#blizzard2016 long run

Last week, as I was following the weather reports on the approaching Snowzilla Jonas and the minimum 18" that were forecast for my area, I was thinking (dreading?) about the upcoming Sunday 18-mile run that will have to be done on the treadmill. Here's my preparation the night before (4 dates @ at Miles 5 and 10; PowerGel at Mile 15).

The previous longest distance I've run on a treadmill was something like 13 miles, so I wasn't totally sure I could go the distance. The NordicTrack goes erratic when the duration exceeds an hour and sometimes just stops. Maybe the programmer didn't think anyone could handle the "dreadmill" for more than 60 minutes and left out the "if (duration > 60)" part. Anyway, that was partly why I reset it every 5 miles, each time taking about 10 seconds, while my cell phone stopwatch continued. Thus breaking the 18 miles into four parts, 3 x 5 miles and 1 x 5K, helped somewhat the mental aspect of the run. At least, "dreadmill" became just treadmill.

Still, 18 miles on the treadmill was a lot tougher than 18 miles on the road! This was so, even though I didn't simulate the hills of my usual long run route and kept the treadmill level for the entire run. And, I didn't carry the water bottle. To break the monotony, I made full use of the WBS (Work Breakdown Structure) applied to running (see Running WBS, Intestinal runs, and Running WBS (2)). Starting with the 18 miles in four parts and Miles 5, 10, and 15 being fuel+water breaks, I further broke the run down with water breaks every 2.5 miles and then individual miles of each 5-mile segment, as follow:

Mile 1: Warm-up, getting into the rhythm (even after the first 5-mile segment).
Mile 2: "Historical," especially the second 0.5 mile. The NordicTrack shows distance with three decimals (i.e., 1.xxx). So, 1.620 would be Pilgrims at Plymouth; 1.776 would be Declaration of Independence; 1.860+ would be Civil War, etc. Once the distance gets to 1.900, the historical events get more personal (birth years, high school, college, work, etc.).
Mile 3: Water break at mid-point.
Mile 4: Toughest mile of the five!
Mile 5: Fuel intake starting at ~4.500; first date until ~4.700; second date until ~4.900; third date just before 5.000 then water; fourth date just after resetting the treadmill for the next 5-mile segment (more on this later). At Mile 15 (end of third 5-mile segment), PowerGel starting at ~4.500 and mostly finished just before 5.000 then water; last bit of gel just after resetting the treadmill for the final 5K segment.

Beyond the individual miles, there were the individual tenths of a mile. And, ultimately, there was the present moment and being mindful of it, so that, as I ran, I knew I was running. I knew whether or not I was relaxed; I knew on what part of my soles I was landing; I knew whether or not I was breathing properly. Ultimately, being mindful makes running on a treadmill not that different from running outside.

Back to why that fourth date just after resetting the treadmill and starting the next segment. I didn't take water after the fourth date, so the sweetness lingered in the mouth. I'm still testing the results from Chambers et al. (2009), who showed how rinsing the mouth with a carbohydrate solution without swallowing affected performance. For the same reason, I took that last bit of PowerGel at the start of the last 5K segment.

Another thought occurred to me during the run, as I was looking at the open container of dates. Usually, on an outside run, the dates would be in a plastic bag and out of sight in my hand. On the treadmill, those dates were staring at me. Could there be some biochemical effect (on performance) from the visual cues of dates? :)

Anyway, what was the result of 18 miles of mindfulness? An average pace that's just one second slower than my current marathon PR pace set at Harrisburg.

Oh, if I could only maintain this kind of pace in an actual race--overall even and progressively negative! Of course, using the treadmill as a pacer did make this part of the mental aspect easier. For the past couple some years, my GMP of 8:58 would not have been enough to actually get into Boston. I would have needed about 8:51. So, for the current 16-week training cycle, I've been using 8:30 as a stretch GMP on which to base my long runs.

In case I've gotten you all eager to jump on a treadmill, here are some treadmill workouts. :)

As for me, after this #blizzard2016 long run, I went outside and did 8 x 1 hour core exercises--of the non-standard kind.

Like fine wine, getting better with age

Day 2 of the new year. A good time to take a look at what's coming up. I've three marathons planned for the year, two in the spring (Rock 'n' Roll DC in March and Pocono in May) and one in late fall (Harrisburg in November). All are repeats. 2016 is the last year I can still qualify for Boston in my current age group (3:55). Only RNR and Pocono would be in time for Boston 2017; Harrisburg would be for Boston 2018. By then, I'll be in the next age group, with an additional 15 minutes for qualifying (4:10). I've already run three races faster than 4:10 (two under 4:00). Mentally, I now expect myself to finish under 4:00 for all future races. Thus, for Boston 2018, I would basically "age" into qualifying, which is not very satisfying. It wouldn't feel as I "earned" it. :) Which is why all three 2016 races but especially the two in the spring will be run on familiar courses. I want to keep the number of variables as low as possible. I feel quite good right now, in Week 6 of the 16-week training cycle for RNR, and cautiously optimistic about "earning" my BQ in one or both of the spring races. :)

One scheduling change I've made is to not do an early September race. A race at that time (e.g., Potomac) would mean another opportunity to qualify for Boston 2017. But, the Washington, DC summer being what it is, it's just too hard to properly train and be ready by September. Instead, I plan to modify the first half of the 16-week training cycle for Harrisburg to partly train for speed. This way, I'll be able to actually race the 5K and 8K in September that my kids and I have traditionally run together. Those are always a lot of fun. In recent years, with the focus almost solely on qualifying for Boston, all the shorter races (half marathon and shorter) have become basically training runs; or, in the case of last year's September 5K, which was on the day after the Potomac Marathon, a post-marathon evaluation run!

Before totally leaving 2015, a quick look back. The 3-minute PR at Harrisburg definitely tops the list. But, the Walnut Creek Half Marathon time is a new course PR (previous one was two years ago). And, in all the shorter races, the finish times are all within the year-to-year delta--even with no focused speed training. What else?

The most scenic course? Golden Gate Trail Half.

The most photogenic finish? Kensington 8K. At least compared to the more usual finish with the gaping mouth. :)

So, my finish times are still improving; the adaptation curve is still staying above the aging curve; it's still mostly a matter of training. This is the advantage of starting serious training later in life, past the prime long distance running age of around 30. Most of one's PRs are still ahead! With that in mind, I plotted my marathon finish times for the last five years, since I began seriously to train, and to train for Boston. I excluded one of the 12 marathons completed, the Grandfather Mountain Marathon, which is basically, well, running up Grandfather Mountain. It's not really comparable to the other 11. The trend line for the plot shows a nice downward slope with increasing years--and age. In fact, if one were to extend the line, it would eventually intersect a finish time of 3:00 at around the year 2020 ... :) :) :)

Like fine wine, getting better with age!

"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.