RunMyMindMap

Early this past May, on the way back from my morning run, I took a detour to NASA or, rather, my version of the NASA "worm." I was passing by the local middle school and decided to use the lines of its tennis courts to run the worm. The area of the tennis courts is too small for the GPS watch accuracy, so the trace was less precise than how I actually ran it.

For comparison, here’s the actual “worm”:

I’m not sure what inspired me to run the worm that morning. Maybe because a few weeks earlier, April 22nd, was the 50^th anniversary of Earth Day, and NASA had provided lots of resources to help everyone celebrate #EarthDayAtHome. Maybe because, after several initial weeks of COVID-19 lockdown, during which I stayed within a 3-mile radius of home on the morning runs, I finally ventured beyond and was feeling exhilarated.

As “GPS Art” goes, the worm is pretty basic. I figured perhaps I should start easy. The previous and only other time I’d tried to run a pattern was in San Francisco, where I was attending the AGU Fall 2019 Meeting. The result was not quite up to what I’d expected; a GPS artist I’m not (yet)!

Around the world, however, runners and cyclists (and others) over the past 6-7 years have taken GPS Art to the level of … well, kind of art. Here are some examples: 1, 2, 3. If you search for hashtags like #StravaArt or #GPSArt, you can see many others. The more intricate and fancier patterns need to cover really large areas, with dense street or road networks, to be able to express the details. These patterns are more often done by cyclists, though a sufficiently long run could also afford the opportunity for a runner’s creativity. Some GPS watches have a “pause” function, which allows one to pause the tracking, move to some other location, and then restart the tracking. This function would obviate the need to retrace segments of a pattern or the need for any extraneous segments. To me, however, that would take the challenge—and fun—out of the route planning!

After I ran the NASA worm and posted the result on Facebook, a colleague commented, What about the NASA “meatball”? At first, looking at the tennis courts, I thought that’s probably not doable, even if there were a few more openings in the chain-link fence between the courts. But then I noticed the adjacent roundish field, just beyond the baseball diamond. Hmm, interesting ... would need a couple test runs to set some mental directional markers. Challenge accepted!

The main difference, the qualitative difference, between GPS Art and running the meatball on that field is the latter’s lack of any grid for guidance. GPS Art freestyle! Whereas GPS Art is mostly careful route planning and, then, lots of time and patience to execute the plan, GPS Art freestyle requires a certain spatial skill. One needs to be able to see the mind’s map and continuously maintain an accurate sense of one’s location, using whatever directional and location markers are available. The area used for a freestyle pattern would thus have to be fairly small, like my roundish field. Pre-run planning for freestyle is similar to that for GPS Art (i.e., minimize retracing and extraneous segments), except the route is sketched on a blank sheet of paper, not a street or road map. In lieu of a guiding grid, I looked for markers. For example, there is a house just across the street from the tip of the chevron; so, as I run along the lower half of the chevron, I’d aim for that house. GPS Art would be an artistic subset of MapMyRun, and GPS Art freestyle is kind of the reverse of MapMyRun. RunMyMap (?), as another colleague suggested. But, because “map” in this case is in the mind, I think RunMyMindMap is better.

So, how did I do with the meatball? Here’s my first try, with the meatball distance at about 0.7 mile. Evidently, it’s a somewhat harder problem than the worm. No wonder NASA switched from the meatball to the worm in 1975 (😊).

Though I ran the meatball a few more times, none came out better than my second try. Compared with the first try, the sphere is rounder; the chevron, though its curves are still not quite right, now extends beyond the sphere's border; and the orbital path is more properly elliptical. The letter sizes, though, are still too big (compare the actual NASA “meatball”).

Running the meatball was more challenging—and more fun (!)—than running the worm. I've other patterns in mind to try. Stay tuned!

Rotating through running shoes

The generally recommended mileage for running shoes before replacement ranges from ~500 miles for traditionally cushioned shoes to ~300 miles for minimalist shoes. There is no shortage of magazine articles on replacing running shoes, with pretty much the same content. See, e.g., 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, the first five results from a Google search on “running shoes replacement.” Here's a recent one from Runner's World. Another article from the New York Times (2013) has a good, balanced discussion—and the only one I have read so far that noted the shoe companies’ perspective: “Most shoemakers, of course, would prefer to see us trade in sooner.” 😀

There are three general areas of discussion in these articles:

1. Indicators of wear related to the runner (e.g., running form affected, pain/injury) and the shoe (e.g., smooth tread, loss of cushion).

2. Factors affecting wear related to the runner (e.g., weight, running mechanics, non-running use, shoe rotation), the shoe (e.g., sole material), and the environment (e.g., weather, running surface and terrain).

3. Tips to minimize wear (e.g., shoe rotation, proper handling, dedicated use to running).

Overall, there is limited research on shoe wear and replacement, including that on shoe mileage and injury.

Being a minimalist runner, though, none of this matters all that much to me. Shoes for me are just to provide some protective barrier against sharp objects and general debris, as well as too hot or too cold surfaces. If a pair of shoes is not literally falling apart, it is good to go. Here are couple footprints from my first pair of Vibram FiveFingers (VFF) on light snow.

The human foot does not need cushioning, naturally. I have been running in minimalist shoes for almost a decade; very seldom have I gotten injured. My transition from cushioned to minimalist shoes was, however, very gradual, over the course of more than a year.

I do rotate through running shoes. The benefits of rotation noted by several of the articles include prolonging the lifespan of shoes and, possibly, reducing the risk of running-related injuries. On the latter, there is also limited research. A study published in 2013 concluded that “multiple shoe use and participation in other sports are strategies potentially leading to a variation of the load applied to the musculoskeletal system.” This variation in loading then possibly results in lowered injury rate.

The following shows the mileages and years for my five currently rotating shoes. I have previously written about how Shoe Goo (or other similar products) can be used to extend the lifespan of running shoes and to get significantly more miles out of a pair of shoes than the generally recommended mileage.

The wear pattern is clear, as shown by where the Goo is applied. The right-side wear is at mid-sole along the edge; the left-side wear (not shown) is mostly at the heel. This differential wear can be seen in the above photo of VFF footprints on snow. But wait, Merrell Vapor Glove? Why is that Shoe Goo’ed, at 35 miles? See my tweet below …

The two Merrell Bare Access pairs have more miles per year, because I more often wear them for long runs. I use the VFFs more for shorter interval and tempo runs.

So, rotation plus Shoe Goo are what allows me to accumulate those high shoe mileages.

Hole in the sole? No problem! Just patch it up, let it dry, and it is ready for the next run—after rotation!

As for the Merrell Vapor Glove, here is my Twitter convo with Merrell, so far. I have not heard back from them since the 19^th …

Treadmill strategies for a pandemic

The following is an extract from a post I did about running on a treadmill during Snowzilla Jonas back in January 2016. Currently, most places are under increasingly tighter restrictions on outdoor activities, including running routes being confined to shorter and shorter radii from home and, possibly eventually, to laps around one's home and, finally, to the treadmill. Perhaps these mental strategies that had helped me get through that 18-mile Jonas run would resonate with other runners. Let me know what gets you through a long run on a treadmill!

[BEGIN EXTRACT]
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.

Opportunity privilege in running - addendum

In Opportunity privilege in running, I wrote about how, sometime when I watch crowds go by in public spaces, I’d wonder why those who obviously need to go out and run don’t and how the comparison to myself is not quite fair, because I have the privilege of opportunity that others may not have. The comparison is also not fair, because the reasons for which I run—my drivers—are different. I run not to maintain a certain weight, to stay fit, to be healthy, etc. These do matter to me, of course, but they are not really why I run, not what drives me, not what gets me out the door—though the wind chill on the other side of the door may be on the other side of zero. I run because running is part of my life—je cours, donc je suis. :) So, to me, it’s not that big a deal to head out on a Sunday morning into the rain for a 4-hour, 22-mile run. (OK, a bit more of a deal than if it’d been sunny.) Fair comparison or not, the point I’d made about opportunity privilege remains unchanged. I began running back in high school and have not stopped since, including, for the past 10 years or so, “serious” marathon training. That running has become part of my life is due in no small measure to the privilege of opportunity I’ve had.

Opportunity privilege in running

The morning long run (22M) couple Sunday’s ago took a bit more than four hours to finish. It was raining steadily before I headed out, and the forecast was rain for most of that day. So, I opted for one of the “intestinal” routes to stay closer to home (less than 3M), just in case. This post, though, is actually not (mainly) about the run itself. It’s more about a thought that occurred during the “intestinal”part of the route, where I encountered a man, who had a significant midsection, delivering newspaper in a car, as he and I weaved into and out of different culs-de-sac (outlined in blue on the map).

But, first, a side note on the run itself. Even accounting for the steady moderate rain, the pace for that run was about 1.5 minutes slower than my long run training pace for the Pocono Marathon back in spring. The difference in pace was not because of aging—at least not mostly (😊)—but because I’m following a new training plan (for the upcoming Harrisburg Marathon) by James Graham, a medical doctor from England who began running marathons in his mid-40s (4:46) and, within five years, ran his first sub-3 (2:56). There are two key differences between Graham’s plans and my previous one: (1) There are three rest days per week vs. one, though, of course, the individual runs are longer for the same weekly mileage and (2) there is a greater emphasis on training by heart rate (HR). It’s the latter that resulted in my slower long run pace. Whereas, before, I was running by target pace, Graham’s long runs are paced by HR. In the plan I’m using (50-mile peak week), the recommended long run HR = HRmax – 60 to 50. I’ll find out in Harrisburg whether this works better. But, regardless, I definitely appreciate the three rest days!

OK, back to the newspaper delivery man. What came to mind was this: There is a certain privilege (or luxury) in being able to go out on a Sunday morning and run 3 or 4 hours, without being constrained by the need to work or by any number of other reasons, personal or otherwise. I have the privilege of opportunity. And, like other privileges that one has had for a long time or is born into, my opportunity privilege is one that I’ve not been at least keenly aware of.

That thought opened for me a different and broader perspective on what is obviously a major problem in this country. One just need to spend a few minutes watching the crowd go by at airports, malls, or other public spaces. That this country has an obesity problem is well documented; some 40 percent of the adult population are considered to be obese. Watching the passing crowd, at times I would think to myself, if I could do it, why couldn’t they? If I could keep running and stay fit, even as I age, why couldn’t they? What I’d been leaving out was the many and varied personal situations that could prevent or constrain opportunity, situations such as the need to work delivering newspapers or mowing the lawn for some apartment complex (which I saw four or five Sunday long runs ago).

In running, in sports in general, in any endeavor that requires dedicated effort to excel, natural talent and hard work are two requirements that come to mind. Opportunity, however, does not always. A key idea in David Epstein’s book, The Sports Gene, is that exceptional talent plus lots of correct practice plus help in timing or favorable circumstances or environment—opportunity—are necessary for greatness. One example of the importance of opportunity is the dominance of Jamaican sprinting, a key to which is keeping the best sprinters on the track. Jamaica is better able to do this than, e.g., the U.S., because there are no other more popular sports like basketball or football. Someone like Usain Bolt in the U.S., on the other hand, would much more likely end up in the NFL than the Olympics (or at least NFL after the Olympics). Hilary Hahn growing up had the "gift of nature" and practiced 4-5 hours a day. She also, however, had supporting parents and teachers, who created the favorable environment. She also had the privilege of opportunity.

Now, when I attend the Church of the Long Run every Sunday, I’m filled with even more gratitude.

Believing (Wineglass Marathon 2018 race report)

Yesterday morning’s long run, Week 6 (16M) of 16 for November’s Harrisburg Marathon, was a relatively pleasant one, finishing in the mid-70s, which was the starting temperature of many of the prior weeks. A light breeze also helped to keep everything relatively dry, or at least not dripping. There’s also the slightest intimation of fall—along with cooler and faster runs! The course, one of my usual ones, is moderately hilly, including the steady uphill of the almost 1.5-mile-long approach on Route 216 to the I-95 interchange (Mile 8 plus parts of miles 7 and 9). I didn’t have much problem maintaining a steady pace up the entire approach. (Btw, these approaches to major highway interchanges and bridges are great training for sustained hill work—though one definitely needs to stay alert crossing all the on- and off-ramps!)

A very different story was Week 2 (12M), also moderately hilly but with ending temperature in the low 90s. The last ~0.7 mile of Mile 10, along Route 29 just south of the Patuxent River, was a steady uphill. Though the distance was only half of yesterday’s approach to I-95, it felt twice as long--an epic slog (certainly how it felt at the time)! I really wanted to stop and walk--but I also really didn’t want to stop. It was a heated debate. Especially during the last half of that 0.7 mile, I was cycling though every item in my mental toolbox (next road sign, 10 more guardrail segments, count to 50, I got this, believe!), trying to just keep putting one foot out after another. That struggle through the heat (and humidity) reminded me of those two salt-encrusted runs of Pocono 2015 and 2019. What it reminded me of more, though, was what happened at the 2018 Wineglass Marathon (Corning, NY) and, in general, the mental aspect of marathons--the power of believing.

I was at the aid station around Mile 25, drinking and walking, trying to figure out how to hang on and manage the remaining mile or so to the finish without walking. For that race, 4:10 was my target time. So, when the 4:10 pacer that I was trying to stay ahead of passed me, it was a tremendous letdown. However, just as I was struggling to respond to that, another runner (Janet S.), who had been running with the same 4:10 pace group, briefly stopped and said, “come on, let’s do this!” That was it. But it was like a charge of energy. I’m sure many runners have experienced the same thing, though it’s really hard to describe. All I know is that those few words made holding on, one stride at a time, to the finish easier. I believed. We ran alongside each other for most of Mile 26. I was able to manage a mini-end spurt to the end and finished (4:11:40) 24 seconds ahead of her. Afterwards, I felt I should have run with her to the finish. I did, however, wait for her to cross the finish line and thank her for providing that simple yet timely and critical encouragement. One of the benefits of running is being part of an amazing community, the best characteristics of which are often seen during races.

That was by far the highlight of Wineglass 2018. As for the rest of the race, I’d already covered that in some detail in previous reports. Wineglass is definitely one of my favorite marathons. The point-to-point course goes through several towns, and it is great fun to run through each of them. In the rain, the spectators were still there, with umbrellas, cheering the runners on. Early October in upstate New York can be chilly, so the big tent at the start line is really thoughtful and appreciated! What most impresses me, I think, are the buses near the finish line taking runners to the start of both races (full and half). The total number of riders is about half the population of Corning. Very efficiently done.

Growth mindset in running - addendum

Just to add another data point to the role of growth mindset in running, here are some numbers from last Thursday's workout. Thursdays in my marathon training plan are tempo runs. Last week was #14 of 16 for the upcoming Pocono Marathon, and it should have been a 5M tempo run. Instead, just to be a bit conservative, as I transition to tapering, I changed the tempo to intervals. In between a couple miles warm-up from home to the local high school track and a couple miles cool-down from the track back home, I did the following workout: Intervals of 1, 2, 3, 4, and 2 laps, with a lap easy jogging in between. I would have done 1-2-3-4-3-2-1, but I was running short of time (for work). The interval times are shown in the following chart.

The average time per lap (or mile pace, in red) increased, as the number of laps of the interval increased, as expected. What's interesting is the fifth and last interval of 2 laps. When I should have been the most tired, I ran at a mile pace that's 4 seconds faster than that of the second interval of 2 laps. Now, though growth mindset has been on my mind a lot recently, and I was thinking about it during those intervals, I'm not attributing this 4-second difference to that. I think finishing the last of a series of intervals at a relatively faster pace is pretty natural. The end spurt applies in this case as well as at the usual end of a run. Still, the key question is how to achieve, earlier in the run or race, that natural almost subconscious mental state that enables the end spurt. A growth mindset will be, I suspect, a major part of the answer.

Growth mindset in running

From what I can tell, Andrew Yang (@AndrewYang) is not a runner. He is, though, running for President—of the United States. (Full disclosure: I’ve donated to Yang’s campaign, at around the midpoint of his push to get to 65,000 individual donors. The latter is one of the threshold requirements to qualify for the 2020 Democratic presidential primary debates. Yang got past 65K in early March (and is currently at over 104K) and, along with the other candidates, will be on the stage in June. I donated to Yang not because I necessarily will be voting for him. At this early stage—some 18 months before the 2020 election!—the only thing I know for sure is a certain individual whom I will not be voting for. I donated to Yang because he has thoughtful ideas, addressing the many and varied societal problems, that need to be more widely heard.)

A few weeks ago, Yang tweeted that a growth mindset is key. Which is another way of saying a scarcity mindset constrains, both individually and within a community. Also a few weeks ago, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (@AOC), Congresswoman for NY-14, tweeted about scarcity mindset in the context of specialized schools in New York City. She was responding to the controversy regarding more proportional representation vs. preserving the “specialness” of these schools. (See also Rutger Bregman’s TED2017 talk in which he began with the question, “Why do the poor make so many poor decisions?” and ended with “Poverty is not a lack of character. Poverty is a lack of cash.” In between the question and the statement, Bregman described the all-consuming debilitation of a scarcity mindset and how a guaranteed basic income could be the basis of the needed change in our worldview.)

OK, back to running. With both of the above tweet references in mind, I naturally, during one of my morning runs shortly afterwards, thought about the meaning of growth and scarcity mindsets in running. Professional runners have talent, of course. They also have training that the rest of use mostly don’t or can’t have. But, what about their mental techniques? Can we learn and adapt from the pros? The question that came to mind that morning was, do professionals more often have a growth mindset, especially during the latter part of a race? Could that be why they’re better able to tap into that large unused potential, that safety factor, of Noakes’ Central Governor Model?

So, what do I mean by growth or scarcity mindset in running? It’s related to the mind, obviously; but it’s also related to the amount of fuel one has (both in the body and on hand) at any given point in a long run or race. That is why fueling is so important in marathons or longer runs. (For the latter, not gels but real food becomes more and more needed.) However, it’s not necessarily the absolute amount of fuel one has. Rather, it’s more the amount of fuel one has—or, perhaps, the amount of fuel one thinks one has—relative to the amount of work remaining for which the fuel is needed. The “work,” of course, is the remaining distance to the finish.

Let’s define the state of mindset as the ratio of the amount of fuel one has to the remaining distance to the finish. It follows, then, that a scarcity mindset should be natural at the start (relatively low ratio) and a growth mindset should be natural at the finish (relatively high ratio). In fact, the typical end spurt to the finish line would be a manifestation of a growth mindset that’s expanding exponentially! Of course, at the starting line, though the full distance of the run is still ahead, the tendency of many is to have an illusional growth mindset and sprint out too fast, only to pay the price later. I learned that hard lesson early on, at the 2013 Wineglass Marathon. The amount of fuel one thinks one has is a lagging indicator.

Assuming an experienced runner who doesn’t start off too fast and who fuels adequately to avoid the dreaded wall, the problem is more how to have a growth mindset earlier in a run or race, before the end spurt, and maintain that mindset—even as the fuel gauge dial approaches empty. One way might be to run by chunks; essentially, treat each chunk as an end spurt. But, of course, that’s much easier said than done!

The last two miles of last weekend’s long run (20M), according to my training plan, are at GMP (goal marathon pace), which I still regard to be 8:58 (for a 3:55 finish). That run was fairly hilly, and I struggled through the middle miles. Still, for the last two miles, I was able to run at a pace 1-2 minutes faster than most of the previous miles, with the last mile just three seconds off GMP. My mindset was of increasing growth, as I counted down the remaining distance. Now, if the last two miles could be of growth, surely the last three could also be? The last four? Ten? What’s the limit? What’s limiting? I don’t yet have the answers; but I do agree with Yang that a growth mindset is key—in running as well as in life.

Chunking in running

“Don’t bite off more than one can chew” is sound advice pretty universally. Related is the concept of “chunking.” In cognitive psychology, a chunk is an organizational unit in memory. Applications include UX content processing and improving memory. In (especially BIG) data management, chunking relates to the reorganizing of large multidimensional data sets for both fast and flexible data access. Data chunking also optimizes parallel processing, resulting in performance gains.

It’s the same with running: Don’t bite off more of a run or race than one can mentally chew. Break it down into chunks. Just as chunking in UX design helps with content processing, chunking in running helps with “route/course processing.”

Chunking came to mind during this morning’s long run (16M, week 7 of 16-week training cycle for the Pocono Marathon in May). I ran my usual "intestinal" route for long runs (not those in my immediate neighborhood), which I alternate with various other loop and out-and-back routes. The following map shows ~Miles 3-10 of the front 11 miles of the run. Back end of the run ranges from four to ten miles, depending on the week.

Compared with loop or out-and-back routes, intestinal routes are not necessarily physically easier or faster. But, they are mentally easier, i.e., time and miles seem to go by faster. This is, I think, because the chunks in an intestinal route (i.e., cul-de-sacs) are more naturally visual. Also, intestinal routes have the advantage of more likely to be closer to home, in case of, e.g., sprained ankle or water shortage!

Of course, there are no race courses that are intestinal. So, I’ve to train more to see the less visual chunks in non-intestinal routes (e.g., from this street sign to the next light post) and better able to mentally chew them one by one.

The real breakthrough, though, will be when I figure out how to run those chunks in parallel …

BOSS, the ultimate cross-training, a community

The desert, it still lingers, more than three years since I’d completed that 7-day BOSS (Boulder Outdoor Survival School) Field Course in southern Utah. (Yes, that’s Boulder, Utah.) In fact, with the passage of time, that which lingers has become that which beckons.

Since that wondrous, life-changing week (see my previous posts: introduction, physical, mental, spiritual), there have been two significant developments regarding BOSS. First, around the end of 2017, BOSS became a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization, which reflected its long-term focus on education and its origin 50 years ago in an educational institution (Brigham Young University). Second, in 2018, the land on which BOSS is located and which it had been leasing was put on the market for sale. BOSS decided to buy the land and give the school a permanent home. For me, both are very positive developments.

So, when BOSS reached out to alumni and friends to help pay down the loan principal, I was more than happy to contribute to the overall effort. It's analogous to an investment--sort of. Obviously, it’s not ownership in the sense of (legally) owning a part of an entity. But it is ownership in the sense of being a part of that entity and a part of the BOSS extended family, for which the land that BOSS now owns is home away from home. Instead of growth in share value, the ROI here is something much more valuable: growth in self, growth in the BOSS family, and growth in the BOSS mission--all made more possible now by home ownership.

What is the BOSS mission? From its Web site: “The Boulder Outdoor Survival School is dedicated to the instruction and preservation of traditional living skills and the development of people through experiences within the natural world.” One of its core philosophies is “Know more, carry less”—which nicely aligns with my inclination towards minimalism in running. (There—there’s the connection with running! 😊)

For me, implicit in that mission statement is stewardship—a continuous thread that connects individuals to shared communities and connects all to a shared natural world. In this stewardship, BOSS is an oasis. This is especially so, viewed from where I am, where, over the past couple years, dark rancid ugliness has been spewing non-stop from what should be the People’s House. Just one recent example, from almost literally the backyard of BOSS: Breakup and redrawing the boundaries of the Grand Staircase Escalante National Monument (areal reduction of about 50%) and the Bears Ears National Monument (85% reduction). And for what? For some fossil fuel companies to be able to extract more of what needs to be kept in the ground.

So, please contribute—to yourself. Sign up for a field course. Be a part of the community of BOSS.

Be a steward for yourself first. And then be a steward for your shared community and for our shared world. Please join us and help expand and nurture the BOSS community. "Être fort pour être utile"!