"365 New Days, 365 New Chances"

It was Martha's turn to write something on the little blackboard in the kitchen today, and this is what she wrote.  365 Days!  How true, and how timely, as 2014 draws to a conclusion and 2015 begins!

Let's take a few chances in 2015!

The End of the Old and the Beginning of the New

Temperatures turned unseasonably warm in Highlands today - up to 55 degrees by afternoon - and the sun was shining warmly, like summer lemonade.  Turnout for the Saturday group run was smaller than usual (because of holiday obligations, I think), but those who did show up were rewarded with almost balmy conditions.

Winter Solstice is over, Christmas is over, and a New Year will shortly be upon us.  Karen, always the comedienne, noted that the day seemed a little longer already.  And it is true - we are nearly a week closer to Summer Solstice; we have circled around the marker on this long out-and-back course and are heading home.  It seemed as if all morning I was talking to one runner after another about upcoming running plans.   Fred and Paul are running races in January and February, Martha and I are looking at February and April.  With the whole morning in front of me, I completed 10 miles - my first double-digit run since my marathon in November. 

It's a time for reflection and hope, a summing up of what we did and did not accomplish this year and the roads we are looking forward to running in 2015. Are we ready for 2015?  As children's author Lemony Snicket said, "If we wait until we're ready, we'll be waiting for the rest of our lives."  I'd rather get out on the road, wouldn't you?  Why wait?

Recovery

It has been thirty days since my last marathon now, and I have to confess that recovery has been slower than expected.  I fared pretty well at first, but last week, in anticipation of a rained-out Saturday, I foolishly ran three days in a row.  And as if that wasn't enough, I went to the gym on the third day and did two or three sets of plyometric jump squats after my run.  What was I thinking? 

I guess I was thinking that I was in my 50s instead of my 60s.  Because I have often recovered so well from running a marathon back in my early 50s that I followed it up with a 5-K only a month or two later.  There is no way I could have done that this time, or if I tried I would have been reduced to 12-minutes miles.

But there is always hope, and progress, if a runner perseveres, and today I had a very nice 3-mile run, averaging 10-minute miles.  These days, that is progress.

Paul Weiss one said, "The distance race is a struggle that results in self-discovery.  It is an adventure involving the limits of self."  So I ask myself, in these weeks before Christmas as I stave off the familiar post-marathon blues, what did I discover during those long miles, crossing that big bridge to Manteo?  I suppose one thing I discovered is that I am an older runner, and so I must be a wiser runner. I also discovered that the deadline for early sign-up for the Flying Pirate Half Marathon in April was fast approaching!  So I signed up - we both signed up.  Because I have discovered that I must continue to have goals.  Or as our friends at the OBX say, "Run for a reason!"

A Runner's Thanksgiving

The day before Thanksgiving is a good time to remember all the things we have to be thankful for, which surely is why it is (in addition to Christmas) my favorite holiday.  It should be a Christian holiday - a true "Holy Day" - but alas it is only a relatively late American invention, although most other countries have harvest festivals (and winter solstice festivals) that are remarkably similar.  It is only natural to enjoy feasting on the fruits of our labors even if we are no longer especially an agricultural society.  At our house, we are gardeners, so if possible we try to include on the table some form of green beans or potatoes or some other vegetables preserved from our summer garden.

There is so much to be thankful for:  family and friends, the bonds of love,  a beautiful wife and daughter.  And as a runner, I am thankful for so much more.  In my case, the difficult completion of my 20th marathon at the age of 65, and my gradual recovery over the past two weeks, my longest run now just over 5 miles.  (The rule of thumb is not to run anything hard for 26 days after the race.)  So I am in no hurry to climb back up that mountain again; now is the time for scaling back on distance and speed, going to the gym, working on strength and flexibility, and simply enjoy running in Highlands this time of year down a Main Street filled with holiday decorations, and under these beautiful winter skies here in the mountains. 

The gifts of life, and good health, and fitness:  blessings we don't deserve.  And this special gift of running:  new friends made on the road, new roads to run on, new adventures, and a chance every day to rise up singing songs of thanksgiving.  Amen.

Across the Bridge

As I write this blog, the mousepad at my right hand - given to me by my daughter Katy - depicts a famous woodblock print by the celebrated Japanese artist Hokusai, his iconic "Mount Fuji Seen Below a Wave at Kanagawa."

Mount Fuji was a symbol of immortality for Hokusai, a follower of Buddhism.  In addition to his well-known "36 Views of Mount Fuji," he depicted many celebrated bridges in his woodblocks, for reasons that are not quite as easy to explain.  It was an unusual fascination, and his lovely prints of bridges are beautiful to behold. 

A bridge, after all, is a symbol of an afterlife, or another life, or another shore at least.  A span to another world.  We have several of these prints scattered around our house and they please me in a way that is hard to describe.  It is an optimistic viewpoint to think that by crossing to another shore we can begin anew; we can draw to a conclusion one ambitious goal and focus on another one. 

Isn't it that way with all things?  And now that we crossed that "celebrated bridge" to Roanoke Island it is time to think about what lies on the next shore.  In the next life.

Number 20

I admit it readily enough:  Number 20 did not go as expected for me.  Perhaps it is just being 65 years old now.  In my training leading up to this race, I did two 18-milers and several tempo runs at a much faster pace than the conservative 10-minute miles I started out running.  But after the halfway point, I just fell apart - my quivering quads, and that tight upper hamstring cramping up from time to time.  The report I published in our Newsletter says it all:

"Your humble editor once won the Floridiot award for running the same difficult marathon course a second time, long ago in his fast years.  (I seem to remember it was a place called Knoxville), hoping to better his time - one famous definition of insanity.  This was the third time I ran the OBX Marathon course, so I am thrice a Floridiot for forgetting to anticipate – no, remember – how rough nearly three miles on the unpaved Nags Head Woods Road and then across mulch-covered sand dunes could be half-way through a marathon.  Although I remained on pace for the first half, my quivering quads slowed me to a crawl by the time I reached that 80-foot bridge over Roanoke Sound at Mile 23, giving me a time of 5:14:42 for this my 20^th marathon (good enough for 7^th place our of 14 in my age group).  Still, this course from Kitty Hawk to Manteo is a beautiful one in a beautiful part of the country (rated in the top 10 by Runners World magazine).  And I have never regretted crossing the finish line one more time."

 

And it is true:  I do not regret having had the courage (some might say insanity) to run another marathon.  There were so many impressions I had as I struggled through those last few miles - running until I had to walk, and then running again - that will remain with me for a lifetime.  You make fast friends during a marathon you will never meet again, like that young lady with the pony-tail here with a group of girlfriends, one of whom wanted to run a marathon at the age of 50 for her "bucket list."  Or the tall blond who kept calling me the "Green Machine" (in my green Boston singlet) until she left me behind.  Or the man with the shaved head who had had brain surgery for epilepsy 7 months ago, lost 50 pounds, and was running his first marathon.  

And, incredibly, my little angel appeared - there is one in every race! - at somewhere around mile 17 or 18.  We heard her voice for a long time, and several of us turned out heads to see this young Asian woman singing at the top of her lungs along with her iPod - "Oh Mother Nature, Hallelujah, Amen, Amen," stopping to take photos of houses we were passing on the bay, wrapped up in her deliriously happy little world.  She passed us by and we ran in her wake for awhile, energized and grateful that, yes, Mother Nature was beautiful and we were all glad to be alive and running this race.

I thought she was singing, too, something about it "raining men," and a search of the internet led me to the lyrics I had heard, from the song, "It's Raining Men," by The Weather Girls:

"God bless mother nature
She's a single woman too
She took for the Heaven
And she did what she had to do
She taught every angel to rearrange the sky
And each and every woman could find her perfect guy

It's raining men, Hallelujah, it's raining men, Amen
It's raining men, Hallelujah, it's raining men, Amen."

I don't know if my little angel found her perfect guy or not.  But now I know who The Weather Girls are.  And I know I wasn't crazy.  Well, maybe just a little.

Was it worth it?  Why of course it was.  After beating myself up for a day or two, I realized that yes, I had crossed another finish line, a finish made more triumphant and glorious because it has been so difficult. And not only that, I had finished 7th out of 14 in my age group, about what I usually do, and on a tough course at that.  Prayers had been answered, the hard months of training had prepared me as much as I could have been prepared, and I spent most of the race thinking about the blessings of good health, strong legs, undeserved breath, a beautiful wife and daughter, family and friends, and the gift of running.  I am a supremely happy man.

And 20 is a nice round number.

Countdown

The countdown clock on the OBX Marathon website reads 3 days 19 hours, and I am beginning to feel that strange mixture of apprehension and excitement, as usual, that builds until we toe the starting line.  Will the 80% chance of rain really materialize?  Will we sleep well the night before?  Will we be stiff from driving 550 miles?  The answers are:  probably not, definitely not, and definitely yes.

But we are both ready and as Hamlet famously observed, "The readiness is all."  So I have posted this message from across the years from another playwright on the kitchen blackboard with that iconic photo of the bridge to Manteo. 

NYC Marathon

It was very inspiring to watch ESPN coverage of the New York City Marathon today.  Even the advertisements were inspiring!  And what a great day for 41-year-old Deena Kastor (6th place) and 39-year-old Meb Keflezighi (4th Place).  I like to know that "older" runners can still succeed, even if they are becoming more accustomed to repeating that old line, "The older I get, the faster I was." 

The important thing for me is merely to finish.   To just get across the bridge - whether it is this one:

Or this one:

Winter Arrives Early

I'm glad the Town's trimming crew was working so diligently on Smallwood Avenue Friday, because this morning's 30-mph winds and scattering of snow arrived about two months earlier than usual.  Our power was out for about two hours (Haywood Electric), which enabled me to feel resourceful and crank the generator, and then even heat up leftover beef strew on the little propane burner.  And every time a gust of wind hurled debris on the roof, I was thankful that I had elected to run my six-mile run yesterday instead of this morning.  I was in fact thankful that most of my training for this marathon took place in ideal conditions.  But those conditions are nearing an end.  Now is the time to dig out the gloves and hats and tights - winter wear.

Even Splits

Even splits:  that's what I wanted to see for this final tempo run today.  And, aside from the first 10:04 mile where my route was obstructed by the Town trimming crew working high in the trees on Smallwood Avenue, I managed to run all remaining miles within six seconds of one another, ending on my goal of 9:45 - an average of 9:47.

Even splits:  for me, that's the way to get to the finish line intact.

The Taper

With my longest run completed a little over a week ago, and a semi-long run this past Saturday, I am now entering "The Taper" - that counter-intuitive period of training when we hold back the pace, reduce mileage, and concentrate on building up reserves of nutrition and strength in our muscles. 

"Bob Cooper, a veteran marathoner and contributing editor for Runner's World, points to medical studies as evidence that the final three weeks of any marathon-training program are the most critical stage of training; a review of fifty studies on tapering indicates that optimal levels of muscle glycogen, enzymes, antioxidants, and hormones, which are significantly depleted by intense endurance training, are achieved during a taper." [Wikipedia]

That is a pretty solid body of evidence, and I have always felt that I benefited from a taper.  But in my own experience, I totter uneasily during these last few days between the extremes of doing too much and defeating its purpose, or doing too little and feeling that I am becoming "stale."  Everything feels a little off-balance, and I swing between days of high energy and days when I am convinced I am becoming sick.  In fact, I have gotten sick during this period of time in the past, and at least one study I have read claims that once the intensity of training slacks off, our immune system starts to fall apart in some unknown way and our bodies are more susceptible to sickness (though not as much as during that period immediately after the race). 

So today I decided to run my 3 miles at about marathon pace, since I had a rest day yesterday and will have one tomorrow and the mileage was low.  My first mile was an alarming 10:37, so I picked it up the second mile and ran an exuberant 9:21, which was even more alarming.  Now is not the time to run anything faster than marathon goal pace!  I finally slowed down.  And I need to stay slowed down until Race Day.

Two Weeks to Race Day

The time is getting close now, and we have begun to make our race-day plans:  where to stay, what to eat, what time to leave on race morning, what to wear.  I have printed out the course map, and I've been watching a course video on You Tube.  It's always a good idea to make these arrangements so far in advance that there are no mistakes on race morning - we want to arrive at the starting line in plenty of time and be prepared for whatever weather conditions might come our way that morning.  My throw-away flannel shirt will be donated to some lucky individual on race day, and hopefully the rain ponchos can stay in the race bag.

Today I ran a little over 12 miles, most of them with Martha at a nice easy pace, and then picked up the pace in the final two miles as I did two weeks ago.  It is always a surprise to discover on runs like this that there is still plenty of strength left in those last miles, and that in fact settling into that faster pace seems to make the little aches and pains, the "niggles" we all have, fade away.  Over the next two weeks the objective is to run easy, store up glycogen (and confidence), avoid injury, and arrive at the starting line ready to go.  "The readiness is all," as Hamlet says.  If we can get to the starting line, then most of the journey is over.  As the old marathon saying goes, "There is nothing you can do to improve your race at this point in training, but ample opportunity to screw it up."

And it was a gorgeous day today - a day made for running!  We hope this weather lasts all Fall.  Or at least through November 9.

Race Pace

It may seem pretty late in the program to try to determine what my finish time might actually be in a marathon these days, but it's certainly on my mind as Race Day approaches.  I have always found in my best marathons that a steady, even race pace is essential, and if anything it might be good to start a few seconds slower per mile.  (It goes without saying that going out too fast is the main reason so many first-time marathoners blow up.)

I've been training at a 9:30 pace, which would give me just under a 4:10 marathon and qualify me for the Boston Marathon in my new age group.  But I have realized from the beginning that that is very unrealistic, and running a marathon at an unrealistic place - at what I would like to finish it - would be disastrous.  True, I earned a BQ when I turned 60 with a 3:57:22, which is also my PR.  But conditions were optimum that day, and the BQ times have also been tightened up by 5 minutes since then.  Under the standard in effect in 2009 - which, arguably, I might be able to attain if those age group qualifying times are in any way related to the way in which a marathon runner actually ages - I would have only had to run a 4:15 to qualify at the age of 65.  That would mean a race pace of 9:45. 

And that's exactly what I tried out today in 7 steady tempo miles.  The new race pace felt comfortable, more comfortable than those 9:30 miles have been feeling.  But even that might be unrealistic.  A better strategy might be to aim for a 4:20 marathon, unless conditions are again optimum:  overcast skies, cool temperatures, a light breeze, and a perfect taper.  And that would mean a pace of 9:55.  That may not seem like much of a difference to a non-runner, but believe me, even a few seconds per mile matter a great deal in those final miles of a 26.2-mile race.

Sunday Rest Day

I've said this before in these pages about a Rest Day, but it bears repeating and remembering it myself:  your rest day is the day when you really make progress, building up strength after a hard run (like yesterday's 18-miler), repairing muscle damage, replenishing the body with good food and fluids, getting valuable sleep.  That's counter-intuitive for most runners - it is only natural to think that we are making progress completing a hard workout.  But that's only the first half of it.  The other half is resting and recovering.  Deena Kastor has said that the runners at Mammoth Lakes sometimes have contests seeing who can take the longer nap.

Runners World sent me a reminder today of this principle from no less an authority than Hal Higdon:

“The most important day in any running program is rest.    

Rest days give your muscles time to recover so you can run again.   

Your muscles build in strength as you rest.”

Which reminds me of another authority on human nature - Shakespeare - on the same topic:

"Sleep - the innocent sleep,

Sleep that knits up the raveled sleave of care,

The death of each day’s life, sore labor’s bath,

Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course,

Chief nourisher in life’s feast."

  

Final Long Run

Today's long run marks the final and longest run in this training program - the peak of a summit, in one sense, from which I will now begin to descend into a three-week paper.  But as with "Yassos," formerly a staple of my marathon training in the past, I have been re-thinking the purpose of the long run.  My training program is more flexible this year, and takes into account my age.

Jeff Gaudette, founder and CEO of the website RunnersConnect, argues convincingly that there is little purpose in running a long run of 20 miles, which I was scheduled to complete today.  He cites recent studies that indicate that runs of up to three hours do all those wonderful things we seek in a long run: capillary and mitochondrial development, more efficiency in burning glycogen, and the hard-earned discipline of simply staying on your feet for those long, long miles.  But after three hours, the risk of injury and the increasing muscle damage begins to have a detrimental effect.  Moreover, a run of 20 or 22 miles (which I have peaked to in the past) tears the body up so much that it interferes with more useful tempo-mile workouts mid-week.  These arguments convinced me to replace the 20-miler with "only" 18 miles today, and despite having already run this distance two weeks ago, I was glad I did, because it seemed surprisingly difficult despite a glorious, cool fall day in Highlands.  I found myself struggling during the middle of the run, but picked it up in the last 2 or 3 miles, finally finishing strong and relatively unscathed.

So I will remember this lesson on Race Day:  the going might get tough in the middle, but that's the time to dig deep and persevere and trust in your training in order to finish strong.

Confidence

Today I repeated my workout of September 23 - the so-called "Yasso Alternatives" - but this time I added the extra mile:  essentially, a pair of two-mile repeats with a rest in between.  This is a similar workout to one that my visitor Derek was telling me about Monday - he did a lot of two-mile and three-mile repeats, he said, at a good fast clip.  Mine averaged 9:15 per mile - 15 seconds faster than tempo pace - which is exactly the pace - to the second - that I was aiming for.  So it was very satisfying.  All of these workouts, including the final set of mile repeats next week, are confidence-builders, and I have come to believe that confidence is just as essential to build up as everything else during a marathon-training program.

Confidence.  I have always loved that word, and in particular its etymology:

"Early 15c., from Middle French confidence or directly from Latin confidentia, from confidentem (nominative confidens) "firmly trusting, bold," present participle of confidere "to have full trust or reliance," from com-, intensive prefix (see com), + fidere "to trust" (see faith)."

That's exactly what we strive to do, in training and in racing:  to run with faith and trust.

Rain Day

As forecast, there has been very heavy rain all day today as a front moves across the Southeast, and I am glad that I adjusted my weekly schedule to avoid it.  I have run in conditions like this before, and unlike running in a summer shower or a light drizzle, running in a torrential downpour like this is absolutely miserable - chilled to the bone, soggy shoes, chafing skin.  I've had some "character building runs" during this training program, but running in these conditions is not productive. 

So what a surprise to see as I was driving down Sixth Street this morning a sole runner, making her way in a downpour so heavy that my windshield wipers were on high.  It was a local woman, Caitlin, whom I have often seen out on the road recently, very likely training for some upcoming race.  I eased by her (she was wearing earphones and I was coming up from behind) and gave her a thumbs up, but her face was focused fiercely on the task ahead:  the deep puddles, the leaf-strewn road, and hopefully a nice warm bath waiting at home.  Good job Caitlin!  I've been there before and I know what you were going through.

Mid-October in Highlands

Today I did something a little unusual - I ran twice in one day.  This is not the first time I have doubled-up, and one member of our running club uses this method to increase his mileage without (he claims) risk of injury by splitting up longer runs into more manageable sections.

At 9:00 a.m. I met a man named Derek at Town Hall and ran three miles - he had contacted me through our website, as many visitors do, and wanted to run any distance, any pace.  It turned out he was a friendly but very serious marathon runner in his 40s, so we talked about his upcoming race in January and mine in November as we ran the usual loop around Harris Lake.  It was drizzling a little and he said he appreciated me showing up under these conditions, but actually it was almost pleasant and I was a long way from being soaked when I finished up.  The forecast for tomorrow is for heavy rain, though, so looking at my weekly schedule I realized I could get in a second easy run in the afternoon, when the light drizzle had disappeared, and not sacrifice mileage.  I have to admit the second run at 3:30 was a little "iffy" starting off, but in a mile or so I fell into a rhythm and ended up feeling just fine.

The Fall colors are beautiful in Highlands right now, and it has been an absolute joy to watch the gradual transformation of trees along our running route into deeper and deeper shades or orange and red.  This maple on the corner across from Town Hall has always been one of my favorites:

Day tourists were everywhere, wearing raincoats and carrying umbrellas against the fine drizzle, and the morning air was filled with the aroma of roasting coffee from Mountain Fresh and the savory and spicy scents of lunch just beginning to be prepared.  On the corner across from the Presbyterian Church, four tourists were lined up shoulder to shoulder, taking photographs on their phones of these gorgeous trees.  Beautiful!

Indian Summer?

It was unusually warm this morning during my 12-mile run - a repeat of my workout two weeks ago, with the last two miles run at tempo pace.  The run went well, as did Martha's first 8-mile run in some time.  "This must be Indian Summer," I told someone.  By afternoon the temperature was up to 70 degrees, and there was a sweet, balmy breeze blowing out of the west.  I walked down our road and the golden leaves were shimmering like pebbles under a clear mountain stream.

But according to the Farmers Almanac this is not Indian Summer.  "During true Indian Summer, the air is still, and the sky is hazy or smoky."  That's because "a moving, cool, shallow polar air mass is converting into a deep, warm, stagnant anticyclone (high pressure) system, which has the effect of causing the haze and large swing in temperature between day and night."  They also claim that conditions described above must occur between St. Martin's Day (November 11) and November 20.  "For over 200 years, The Old Farmer's Almanac has adhered to the saying, If All Saints' (November 1) brings out winter, St. Martin's brings out Indian summer."

I'm enjoying it, regardless of what it is called.  Some of the leaves up in Town at a higher elevation are certainly at their peak of color right now.  But a "classic back-door cold front" is on the horizon, and early in the week some heavy rains, especially on Tuesday.  I have only three truly hard workouts to go, and one of them is on Tuesday - a repeat of my September 23 workout.  So I will be watching the hourly forecast carefully this week.

Mile Repeats Repeated

In some ways, today's workout was the hardest that I will complete before the marathon - mile repeats again (See September 16), but this time four of them.  I have hesitated looking farther than a week ahead during this training program because the daunting work still to come might seem intimidating.  But today I did look ahead, and it was encouraging.  I completed only three of these on September 16 and in two weeks I will complete another three.  So as far as mile repeats go, this was the summit, and I am descending the long slope of the taper which will culminate in Race Day.

As with other types of intervals, and even tempo miles to some extent, I was struck again by how close together these repeats were, only a few seconds separating them:  9:01, 8:58, 9:03, 8:59. (In fact, I believe that the first and third miles on the course I run are slightly more uphill than the second and fourth.)  If you asked me to close my eyes and say when a minute had passed, second by second, I don't think I could have been closer.  Surely this means that I am starting to recognize with more and more accuracy my mile-repeat and my tempo-mile pace.  My legs fall into the pace like slipping on a comfortable pair of pants, or sitting in a favorite chair.  And that's one of the main objectives of training with so much attention to a watch.  On Race Day, that 9:30 pace should seem like a familiar friend, as familiar as the Garmin on my wrist.

Autumn Breeze

I was sorely tempted to run the Autumn Breeze 5-K in Tallulah Falls, Georgia this afternoon.  The sky was a brilliant shade of blue, the air was nice and cool with a little breeze, and the course was as flat as it gets in North Georgia.  But this was Martha's race, part of her own half-marathon training plan, and the only real speed work she is doing since she is building her mileage from virtually nothing.  (Derek and Lindsay went down the mountain from Highlands and ran the race as well.)

She was looking at this as a training run, but she surpassed both of our expectations, finishing in just a couple of seconds over 31 minutes and taking 2nd place in her age group despite being the oldest in said age group!  Way to go Martha!  Beautiful trophy, beautiful woman.

For my part, it would have been idiotic to run a 5-K the day after an 18-mile training run, and two days before a demanding set of mile repeats.  Wouldn't it?  Derek joked with me before the race that there was still time to sign up.  And I realized that I was wearing a fairly decent set of old running shoes, could un-zip the lower legs from these hiking pants, and simply replace my easy 3-mile run scheduled for tomorrow with a nice easy 5-K run.  Fortunately I came to my senses.  Because I know I would not have held back, and I might very well have hurt myself.

The old adage is a good one - did Joe Henderson say it in his book? - there is nothing at this point in your training plan that will help you run a better marathon.  But there is a lot you can do to ruin it.

18 Miles on a Windy Day

Following a day of rain on Friday, a strong Canadian front came through Highlands last night and it has turned cold and windy.  Last night the stars were bright and high clouds flew across the night sky, and this morning we awoke to bright October Blue skies (yes, that is a real color!) and a strong wind out of the north and west, which seemed to be in our faces no matter which corner we turned.

We had a nice group this morning, perhaps 15 of us in all, including two visitors from Wilmington, Lon and Sandi, who were up here training for their very first marathon, Marine Corps in three weeks.  It was great talking to them, and despite all I told Lon during the course of our 14 miles together he seemed more determined than ever to get across the finish line - a sure sign that he has a serious case of this strange marathon fever that seems to take over otherwise sane and ordinary mortals at certain times in their lives.  They are both in good shape and I predict they will have a good race.  Sandi cut her run short a couple of miles because a troublesome hamstring had tightened up, a sign of good sense uncharacteristic in most of us marathon runners and a lesson I need to remember every day:  be attentive to your body.

All of this talk about marathons psyched me up for my own race as well.  And that's most of the battle won, here on these long roads:  being psyched up, being mentally prepared to face whatever awaits us out there in the unknown.  Because although I have run 19 of these things, I still have a lot to learn about myself.  It reminds me of Alberto Salazar writing about a marathon being an imponderable event.  Surely even the elites stand on that starting line and realize that anything can happen.  And that's what makes us return to it again and again.  But Lon and Sandi have done all the hard work and for them it is taper time, and then they will get to celebrate for 26.2 miles.

I did adjust my long run as well - the schedule called for 20 miles, but I have another one of those coming up in two weeks and like Sandi I had a recurrence of that tightening high in my hamstring.  So I toughed out the last four miles as the unrelenting wind seemed to pick up even more and more speed.  Coming down Sixth Street in my final mile it was so strong in my face that I started laughing at it.  And recalling one of my favorite quotes from Shakespeare ("As You Like It"):

". . .The seasons’ difference; as, the icy fang
And churlish chiding of the winter’s wind,
Which, when it bites and blows upon my body,
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say
‘This is no flattery: these are counsellors
That feelingly persuade me what I am.’
Sweet are the uses of adversity."

Ten Mile Tempo Run

It's hard for most runners to avoid being a little bit obsessive (some might say anal) about time and distance.  I began the year (see post of January 2) realizing that I am often "The Man Who Knows Too Much."

"I am indeed The Man Who Knows Too Much sometimes. . . I know the predicted weather from four or five weather apps on my iPhone, my exact mileage and pace at any given time during a run, my planned distance, my cadence, my approximate heartbeat, and where that patch of ice will be on Lower Lake Road.  Some of these things are good to know (e.g. patch of ice) but others can distract us from the things we should be discovering along the way, like the aroma of pine needles over by the Biological Station, the light skim of ice on Harris Lake, that indomitable oak tree on Fifth Street that is still clutching all its brown leaves in January. . .This year I resolve to know less.  So that I can discover more."

That's all very well and good until marathon training begins.  Then my running log becomes filled with times and distances obsessively entered in great detail.  I still marvel at the beauty of running in Highlands in every season, in seeing the sunlight slanting down through the morning fog as it did yesterday, wispy wraiths ahead of me on the road slowly rising into the cool morning air, and the same dogwood trees becoming more and more blood-red every day.  But measuring my progress becomes paramount during this 16-week period, and it will indeed be a relief after November 9 to run without looking at my Garmin, to simply run in joy and thanksgiving as I usually do for many weeks whenever I have completed a formidable event.

But this week I was obsessive about a good tempo run, my first 10-miler, and everything clicking along just fine, with splits as fast as 9:20 and as slow as 9:39, but averaging out at 9:28 (plus some decimals I resist entering here).  Tempo runs are tough for me, but I kept thinking yesterday that this was the last time I would be doing this workout (although I have some mile repeats still coming up in my schedule), and thus my last opportunity to run them well.

It really is all about the training.  And it's OK to be obsessive about your running a few weeks every year.

12 Miles - Fast Finish Long Run

Today I ran 12 miles on a gorgeous day in late September.  Early on, there was a good bit of cloud cover, almost as if it was preparing to rain.  But it turned out to be just morning fog slowly dissipating, and by the end of my run the sun was shining brightly in a deep blue sky, the air cool and dry.  It was good to see Sam before, his broken toe mostly healed, and some other runners I had not run with in some time.

I ran the first 10 miles at my easy long-run pace, about 11-minute miles, and then tried a training workout I have been reading about recently:  running the last two miles at tempo pace (also known as a Fast Finish Long Run).  I have done this as part of some of my earlier marathon training plans; it is based on the theory that it will teach tired legs to still run hard.  But I was younger then and I usually hammered out a single final mile at much faster than tempo pace - as fast as I could, really.  This time I tried to hit that magic 9:30.  I failed miserably on the first mile, and there was no excuse because it was on the part of the loop where there are splits marked on the pavement every 200 meters.  I squinted at my Garmin's small print, lost track of almost every split, and ended up running 9:08, way too fast - impressive, but not my goal.  My second mile came in at 9:35, with no splits marked at all, just me trying to feel that comfortable pace, that overdrive gear that does not strain the engine at all.  The pace that will get me to the finish line if it is a good day.

"Overdrive:  a gear in a motor vehicle (or a runner) providing a gear ratio higher than that of the drive gear or top gear, so that engine speed and fuel consumption are reduced in highway travel."

Exactly what I want to achieve.

Wallking the Tightrope

I remember watching white-knuckled last year as Nik Wallenda walked on a tightrope across the Grand Canyon on live TV.  That's a little like how I feel toward the end of a marathon training program, especially for an old guy like me:  always trying to walk the tightrope between pushing another mile, completing another hard workout, and losing balance and teetering into injury.

 
I ran some fast miles on Tuesday, faster than my tempo miles, and the program called for more fast miles today:  10 miles including 8 tempo miles.  After 7 miles I knew that I was pushing it too hard, and I decided to call it a day 8 miles including 6 tempo miles.  (That hamstring high up, tightening up again!)  One of my objectives this year was to run only one hard workout each week, and to complete the long runs on schedule, so I'm not sure how my calendar ended up with hard workouts only two days apart.  That makes, after all, 9 fast miles this week, and a long run only two days from now.   I also discovered that many marathon training plan for guys in their 60s includes no speed work at all, merely the long runs.  Perhaps I should be a little easier on myself?

"Listen to your body!"  Good advice, but so difficult to do, even for an experienced distance runner.  Today I listened.  And I crossed over to the other side, one day closer to my marathon.

New Season and New Workout

Today was the first full day of Fall in Highlands, and as I began my warmup by running a mile or so up Chestnut Street and around the loop to Harris Lake, I could hear the acorns falling all around me.  We have noticed that there are many more acorns this year and they are falling rapidly, but nobody is quite sure if this abundance of mast will actually foretell a hard winter or not.  But it was definitely Fall - the first time it has dipped into the upper 40s at our house (49 by my thermometer this morning) as I did my Tai Chi on the deck.

As befits a new season, I was trying my new alternative to the discredited Yasso 800s - multiples of miles at 15 seconds or so faster than tempo pace.  I figured that this pace, for me, would be 9:15 per mile, exactly midway between mile repeats and tempo miles.  The workout, which is supposed to have been developed by Kevin and Keith Hanson over 20 years, calls for 2 X 6 mile with a 10-minute rest, and then another 2 X 6 mile (plus warmup and cool-down), a total of about 13 miles.   As the Coach on the runner's website Runner Connect explained the workout:

"My favorite workout is the 2 x 6 mile, which was made famous by runners at the Hansons Olympic Development Project:  1 mile w/u, 2 x 6 miles @ 10-20 seconds faster than marathon pace w/10 min rest, 1 mile c/d.  The purpose of this workout is to run at your threshold pace for a total of 12 miles, which will help you: (1) increase your ability to burn fat as fuel source when running at marathon pace; (2) practice running on tired legs; and (3) simulate the “dead leg” feeling many marathoners experience after 18 miles. Likewise, the goal of the 10 minute rest is to get your legs stiff, stagnant and uncomfortable to simulate how your legs will feel during the latter stag of the marathon.

This all sounded pretty reasonable (although I question the Hanson's insistence on a long run of no more than 16 miles).  And also a good workout for a runner in his 20s, not in his 60s - a hell of a lot more ambitious than I could handle!  So I decided to modify it to 2 x 2 miles, especially considering that I have 10 miles to run Thursday (including 8 at tempo pace).

The first two went well - I was 9:12 and then 9:03 - and I still felt strong and fluid after two hard miles.  But midway through the second set, I began to feel that tightening in my upper right hamstring that I have felt from time to time this year.  So what did this older and wiser marathon runner do?  He decided to be uncharacteristically smart and deliberately stop at one mile (9:09) on the second set, cool down, and call it a day.  Surely learning to train deliberately is the hardest thing for a runner to do - not to be sucked into a faster pace than you planned to do, or more miles.  It's difficult sometimes to know the different between cutting a hard run off soon enough that you don't topple over the brink into injury, and simply "wimping out."  I finished out with a long cool-down for a total of 7 miles.  And I felt good about this new workout.  It seemed to be slow enough that it did not enter the V02MAX zone that the Yassos were, I concluded, unnecessarily getting me into, but it still was a good hard threshold pace effort.  Next time I will try both of the 2 x 2 miles and see how that feels.  Or maybe even a  2 X 3 mile.  The important change this year is that I am running more tempo miles (or slightly faster than tempo miles) and cutting down on overall mileage and VO2MAX workouts.  And so far so good.

Every runner is an experiment of one.  And as I told Karen on Saturday, I have never run a marathon before at the age of 65.  I have nothing to compare it with.  So we'll just see how it goes.

18 Miles

The long runs keep getting longer, by about two miles per week, as I approach the 20-mile mark - the longest run in this marathon-training program.  I was fine for the first few miles, but then the damage of those hard tempo miles on Thursday began to take their toll.  It always seems to be a struggle to run two miles more than the last long run, as if there is a solid brick wall that needs to be pushed through or vaulted over, and that wall was 16 miles today as I struggled through the last two, step by step, finally bounding up the hill to the parking lot, and being sort of amazed to see 18.00 smiling at me from my Garmin.  Marathon runners don't like walls much, which is why some of them (foolishly, I think) want to complete the entire 26.2 miles in a training run, hoping to push that wall out ahead of them or topple it down before the big race.

What made this morning's run a little easier was the unexpected companions that I encountered.  I ran the first two miles by myself, then saw Paul coming down Fifth Street (I had not run with him in weeks), so I ran with him for two or three miles at a nice easy pace.  At 9:00 a.m., a small group showed up and I ran with them, and then with Karen for three miles when Jim and Carol peeled off at a faster pace.  And finally - she had delayed her run because she knows I enjoy her help late in a long run! - Martha, looking for me out on the course, and meeting back at Town Hall to run nearly six miles with me toward the end.

Companions make the journey so much easier in all things, don't they?

Tempo Miles

Today I ran tempo miles, a workout that many coaches say is the best type of marathon training aside from the long run.  It improves aerobic endurance and fuel efficiency, and it teaches your body exactly what it will feel like to run at Marathon Pace (MP) of 9:30 per mile.  The first set in the training program always seems more difficult to me than any workout so far, and today's run was no exception; sandwiched between a mile warm-up and a mile cool-down are seven uninterrupted miles at what seems at first a relatively comfortable pace and then becomes increasingly difficult.

After the first or second mile I begin to wonder, "How can I ever keep this up for 26.2 miles?  It will be all I can manage today to run 7 miles at this pace!"  (Of course, the difference is that I ran mile repeats two days ago, and I still have only a month of increasingly difficult workouts to go.  And I am not tapered and ready to go.)  Surely it is a confidence builder to be able to complete this workout, and in addition to its physiological benefits it also teaches the new runner, and reminds the returning runner, how to focus for such a long distance.  Of course, those long, long Saturday runs do that, too, but they are at a much tamer pace, and often include chatting with friends, walking hills, returning for Gatorade and water, and exploring new routes.  Other than passing Martha twice on the route as she ran her workout, I was alone, as indeed I will be on Marathon Day despite being surrounded by so many other runners.  One mile after another.  And suddenly I am halfway there, and then only two miles, then only one to go!

The results were as expected:  the first two were each 10 seconds too fast, then I lost focus and ran a surprising 9:49, finally deciding to take charge of things again and gradually inch it up to 9:36, 9:34, and 9:32.  "This is not the day to fail!" I kept saying.  "This is the day to say Yes!  Yes always triumphs over No!"  (It is amazing how profound such thoughts seem late in a hard workout.)  My last mile as I sailed across the final split was 9:19, and my average was just a fraction over 9:30.  And very satisfying to achieve.  I remind myself again that this is the hardest part of a marathon:  all the training that leads up to it, all the toughness that it builds, honing that sharp, sharp edge on the hard stone of discipline . . .

Mile Repeats

Unlike those Yassos (basically, half-mile repeats) that I so thoroughly trashed in my previous post, mile repeats are a time-honored workout for marathon training.  They are slower, but they are still tough enough to be a challenge - just the right balance.

Runners World says:  "When it comes to effective workouts, mile repeats are a classic and versatile training tool. Popularized back in the late 1970s by athletes such as Alberto Salazar, who ran them before winning his first New York City Marathon, the workout is enticing, in part, because of the distance itself."  I agree.  There is something very satisfying about running a single mile, then resting for two or three minutes, then running another, and another.  Moreover, I ran them at a pace which made more sense for me:  half-marathon pace rather than 10-K pace.  Under ideal conditions, on a good day, with perfect training, and with the wind at my back, I think I might be able to run a half-marathon these days in just under 2 hours, which equates to a 9:06 pace.  My goal was a little faster - 9:00 - mostly because it was easier to do the math.  On the roads where I ran them this morning I had the advantage of 200-meter splits marked on the pavement, so each split was 1:07.5.  My average for the three was 8:57, which was very encouraging, and I rounded them out with a long warm-up and even longer cool-down for a total of 8 miles.

Most important of all, I felt strong when I had finished the third repeat, as if I could have run another.  I had not trashed my legs as I would have at a faster pace intended to improve VO2 Max.  Instead, I ran them at a good, hard aerobic pace intended to improve the two most important things that marathon training should aim for:  aerobic endurance and fuel efficiency.  Is there any point, after all, in sending that tachometer into the red zone?

That's a prescription for a blown engine.  What I want instead is good mileage, all the way to the end.  I want to be driving an economy car.  One that gets sensible fuel economy . . . for that completely insane distance I have decided to attempt one more time.

Changes in the Plan

After writing in these pages before about the importance of developing and then adhering to a training plan, I find myself making some changes as I enter Week 9.  I have been reading many, many on-line articles about marathon training, and while there is a wide variety of opinion about the specific details of training plan, there seems to be consensus about some things. 

First of all, as I have read in many places, the long run should be run one to two minutes slower than MP, or goal marathon pace (as I have written before).  I'm already doing that, and many coaches say that you cannot run your long run too slowly.  The purpose of the long run is build up the little capillaries in your muscles and teach you to deal with being on your feet for a very long time.  It might also be a good idea, on the "shorter" long runs, to try to run the last two miles at MP, which is something I have done in the past to good effect.

Second - and this came as a surprise to me - there seems to be consensus that "Yasso 800s," the basis of many of my training plans in the past, have fallen into disrepute.  According to Coach Jeff on Runners Connect:

"I have to take issue with this workout for two reasons. First. we have no actual evidence to support there is an actual connection between the fitness this workout demonstrates and marathon finishing time – it’s merely a coincidence. Second, the specific demands of this workout do not accurately target marathon fitness – you can run workouts that will provide a greater benefit to your marathon training."

Many experts agree with him.  The Yasso 800 workout builds VO2 Max, and could actually be destructive in the final eight weeks of training.  It is, in the words of many, a wasted workout.  It is far better to run race specific workouts at all distances, and most of the hard workouts in a marathon training program should be run at 95% to 105% of goal pace.  A suggested alternative to Yassos is a warm-up mile, then five (or six) miles at 15-seconds faster than MP, then a 10-minute rest, then five (or six) more miles at the same pace, then a cool-down.  This workout was made famous by runners at the Hansons Olympic Development Project, and it is one that I have decided to try in place of that staple of my old buddy Bart Yassos.

Third - and finally - I find from many sources that it is still a good idea to run mile repeats, which do not enter the VO2 Max state and are hard marathon-specific workouts with proven  benefits.  However, the recommended pace for these repeats (my first set is scheduled for tomorrow) is not the 10-K pace I have used in the past, but the half-marathon pace, which would be 20 to 25 seconds slower.  This, too, sounds sensible to me.  Now is no time to beat up my legs.  Now is the time to make them strong.

So in the final analysis, it is always a good idea to change your plan if you are open to new ideas about running and willing to try new workouts.

14 Miles

Today I ran my long run two days early because we will not be able to run Saturday morning.  "Only" 14 miles, fewer than the 16 miles I ran Saturday, yet my legs feel absolutely shredded.  This came as something or a surprise because I survived my 8 miles of hills Tuesday relatively unscathed and had a "rest" day yesterday (i.e., going to the gym, scrubbing patios and sidewalks on my hands and knees with Clorox, mowing the lawn, etc. all day).

Then I got my calculator out and did the math.  Including last Saturday, during a period of five days, I had run a total of 42 miles.  That's a lot of miles, for me, at this point in the training plan.

So I am reminded of a lesson that I learned the hard way years ago - it's not so much miles in a calendar week as it is cumulative miles over a period of days that has an impact on the body.  The adding machine does not lie.

Farewell to Big Bearpen

I am in Week 8 of the marathon training plan that I mentioned in my previous post, and today I ran Hill Repeats, right on schedule.  The plan I am using is perfect for me, I think, based on the Bart Yasso plan I used to qualify for Boston in 2009, but amended somewhat for my aging 65-year-old body.  At the time, I had experimented with many different training plans, including the so-called "Less is More" or "F.I.R.S.T." plan devised by the Furman Institute of Running and Scientific Training, which prescribes only three days of training.  That plan was certainly unusual for me, and my marathon (Knoxville, I think) did not go very well - I felt that I would have benefited from more long runs.  The Bart Yasso plan prescribes long runs in the final couple of months of 18, 20, 20, 15, and 22 miles in consecutive weeks.  It worked in 2009, but I have realized since then that my body simply cannot withstand that kind of training, so my long runs this time will be 18, 12, 20, 12, and 20.  There is pretty good evidence that running more than 20 miles is not accomplishing much other than increased risk of injury.

A Google search for marathon training plans will result in a wide variety of often conflicting advise.  I watched a podcast the other night by a young Olympic qualifier, whose marathon time was 2:37 (just under 6-minute miles), who ran her long runs in 9-minute miles.  That same night, I watched a podcast from a coach with very good credentials who disputed the necessity of long runs and high mileage at all; he said maximum mileage even for elite runners should be no more than 35, and long runs no longer than 12 or 15, with most of those miles run faster than goal pace.  So a runner doing research has to take a careful, reasoned approach and find a plan suited to his or her own time limitations, fitness level, age, and experience.  After 19 marathons I still have a lot to learn, but I know what my body is not capable of doing!

The interesting thing about this plan is that it transitions half-way through from long runs and hills to more high-intensity training during the week, while still maintaining the long run (amended in my case) on weekends.  So from now on I will be running Tempo runs, Yassos (those 800-meter intervals named after Bart), and Mile Repeats.  Gone are the hills until the end of the program.

So today I decided to do my Hill Repeats on my favorite mountain, Big Bearpen (see earlier posts).  I ran to the summit, back down most of the way, up again, back down, and then up a third time (my own variation on traditional "hill repeats"), the words of Henry V ringing in my ears each time I turned to climb:  "Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more!"  I was rewarded by one of those glorious mornings we have in Highlands when, at a certain altitude, we find ourselves rising above a luminous sea of clouds with the tall mountains pushing through - Whiteside gleaming in sunshine, its summit just protruding from this gleaming bright fog!  On the summit, vertical shafts of sunlight slanted down through the morning mist, and the trees facing east along the summit road seemed to be breathing huge clouds of vapor as the sunlight burned off last-night's rain.  What a glorious farewell to Big Bearpen!  It looked a little like this photo I lifted off the internet (because I do not carry phone or camera when I run):

All of this climbing must be doing some good after all, as my legs seemed to simply sail uphill each time.  Six weeks ago "BearpenX3" would have been an unthinkable entry in my running log at this morning's speed and intensity. 

Plan the Run, Run the Plan

I have relied on plans for a long time, both in my running goals and in my career as Town Administrator before I retired.  There would simply have been no way to get the annual budget completed and ready for approval each year without giving our Department Heads a deadline for submitting budget requests, scheduling all the meetings leading up to the budget hearing, and giving myself large chunks of time alone behind a closed door and in front of my computer.

As I have said before in these pages, the gradually increasing intensity of marathon training over a period of time puts a tremendous strain on both the novice and the experienced runner, and it requires a careful plan, just like the ascent of a mountain.  Many runners have failed to make it to the starting line because of those four simple words:  Too Much Too Soon.  I devised my plan some time ago (see post of July 20) and, while I continue to read and watch podcasts on all sorts of marathon training programs, now is not the time to experiment with something new.  That's my plan and I'm sticking to it!  In fact, if I feel especially tired or on the verge of injury in my daily workout, I intend to use my status as an aging 65-year-old runner as an excuse to simply give it a miss that day.  Gifted runners may be able to achieve amazing things on little or no training (I have read about runners who were persuaded at the last minute to run the full- rather than the half-marathon, and who have done remarkably well).  But I am not a gifted runner, only an average runner, a "mere mortal," who is slowing down year by year.  I live and I train these days remembering the words of Samuel Johnson:  "Great works are performed not by strength but by perseverance."  And I live and train by persevering in my plan.

Today I created a plan for Martha to complete her half marathon on the same day as mine, and I think it is a good one, based on a Hal Higdon plan and amended to take into consideration her recent level of training and her risk of injury.  It relies, like mine, on the foundation of long runs, but also includes some speed work, strength training (and in her case yoga), and lots of rest.  I specifically included this note at the bottom of the spreadsheet:  "If you don't feel well after one mile for any of these workouts, then you should skip it and take a rest day."

=

My own plan was set down in excruciating detail weeks ago in my Outlook calendar, which I synch periodically with my iPhone.  Each Sunday I look ahead as another week begins and I know what I need to do if I want to achieve my goal.  This is Week 8 - the halfway point - and I have 4 easy miles, 8 miles of hill repeats, another 6 easy miles, and a 14-mile long run - 32 miles in all, and exactly where I need to be as I climb this mountain of fitness, looking back down behind me from time to time, and looking ahead from time to time to that unimaginably attainable summit.

16 Miles

Today I ran my longest run since my last marathon on December 14, 2013.  On top of 21 miles Monday through Thursday, this gave me a total weekly mileage of 37 - again, my most mileage since that day in December when I last faced a truly intimidating distance.  Of course, 16 miles does not seem that long when you are running around and around on familiar roads, stopping to drink water and use the restroom, rather than running in a straight line.  I could have run from the Town Hall to the Ingles store in Cashiers and it would only have been a little over 13 miles.

But this was my most difficult long run to date, partly because I did not rest and hydrate on Friday as I should have.  Instead, I worked on my little stone-masonry project under the front porch, mixing mortar and hefting pieces of granite into place well into the afternoon.  It was also a little warm and it was quite humid.  From the very first mile, I knew I was dehydrated, so I stopped at so many drinking fountains along the way that I may have been in danger of hyponatremia.  That's the condition that threatens so many middle-of-the-pack marathoners who mistakenly over-hydrate during the event, drinking so much water that sodium levels drop to a dangerous low in the body.

But, really, I was in no danger.  There were plenty of other runners out, and walkers too, and for some reason I kept passing the EMTs as they drove around Town - did I look that bad?  I was veritably drenched in sweat by the end of my run, wringing it from my shirt into a big puddle.  But what a happy discovery to see Martha in the parking lot, just finishing up her four-mile run, and beaming with pride because it had gone so well - no stiffness, no sign of injury.  She had powered up all the hills and felt just great!  She is going to have a good race.

In those latter miles I settled into that slow, workman-like pace that simply gets the distance covered, one step after another, not even pausing to walk up hills in my relentless desire to get to the finish line - in this case that sweet 16.00 on my Garmin.  And somewhere in those miles I remembered how difficult this was going go be, like encountering again an old familiar adversary.  "Ah; so we meet again!"  This is what it is like - what it has been like, what it will be like - covering that distance.  The long miles, the little games we play to keep us going, the prayers we say, the beautiful holy morning passing by, the long road unwinding behind us.  The finish line around the corner.  Still out of sight.

No Turning Back

Week 6 of my 16-week training program ended today with a well-attended group run on this Labor Day weekend, perhaps as many as 25 runners in all.  I find myself more and more completing training runs by myself, so what a joy it was to run with others today.  I met a really nice runner, Marcus, from Saint Petersburg who had contacted me through our website and met with me to run 19 miles in his training for the New York City Marathon.  (I went a little over 13 miles myself.)  And there were several local runners I had not seen in some time.  At one point the group left me behind as I plodded along in my stubborn 11-minute-mile pace; they went down Harris Drive and I took a shortcut down Smallwood Avenue, and I could hear them laughing and chattering loudly one block south of me through the trees - the joyous sound of camaraderie on a cool Saturday morning.

One of the runners I had not seen in awhile was Martha, who completed a strong 3-mile run, her first in some time.  She had announced this week that she wanted to run the OBX Half Marathon in November, and so her training begins, too, as we slowly approach Veterans Day weekend, side by side, striving for another noteworthy finish line.  I can't think of another runner I would rather have go the journey with me, in so many ways!

So today I pulled up the OBX website and signed up.  "This confirms your transaction completed successfully," the registration page said.  Now that I have spend $194.60 in registration fees - non-refundable registration fees - it is too late to hedge or waver or put it off for another year.  Soon we will pin that number on the front of our shirts that Dr. George Sheehan famously identified as that very moment when we become runners.  And as we run up Chestnut Street and Big Bearpen in the coming weeks, we will look forward with anticipation (and some trepidation) to that long high windy hill that awaits us at Mile 23 (Mile 10 of the Half Marathon), the Washington-Baum Bridge across the Roanoke Sound.

Week Six - Twice to the Summit

Week Six begins with the most "hill miles" I will run during this training program, eight miles in all.  The hill mileage drops down after this week, the long runs increase to 13 and then 16 and then 18 miles, and then I forgo hill miles entirely and replace them with mile repeats, Yassos, and tempo miles during September and October.

Eight miles seemed the perfect excuse to run up my favorite mountain again, Big Bearpen - from the Town Hall to the summit and all the way back (4 miles), and then repeating it a second time.  It was one of those cool, foggy, lovely days in Highlands, the summit entirely shrouded in that kind of brilliant fog that seems to be on the verge of falling apart into sunlight.  The familiar views of the lakes of South Carolina and Whiteside were invisible.  And quiet.  Nothing but the sounds of my footsteps, and a ferocious little dog locked in the cab of a pickup truck near the top that I startled into a sharp volley of barking each of the four times I passed him.

On the second ascent, I decided to run the loop around the summit clockwise, something I have only done once or twice before.  (Why do runners instinctively run loops, like tracks and summits, in a counter-clockwise direction?  Are we hoping to turn back the clock?)  What a surprising revelation it was!  I noticed a little tree-house on the right, a long curving stone wall on the left, two or three houses I had barely noticed before.  It was as if I was running on a different road entirely. 

How astonishing to realize that a simple change in direction can reveal things I have run by so many times before and simply not noticed in the brilliant fog of routine.

Twilight Rock N Roll 5-K

Race Director Derek Taylor and the Rotary Club of Highlands put on another excellent race this year.  I did not run the inaugural Twilight Rock N Roll 5-K last year, much to my regret, but I understand it was a good one despite rainy weather that would have discouraged the casual runner.  But this year the weather cooperated, and although it was a little warmer than most of us expected (high 70s), it was still cooler than most places in the area.  I ran a slower time than expected (and so did several others I spoke to), but in warm weather the wise runner dials back expectations and merely struggles to the finish line.  Moreover, this was the first really fast event I have done since a 5-K in Edenton - all of my miles lately have been long and slow and steep.  

I was glad that our Mayor, who just started running a couple of years ago, had such a good race, taking first place in my age group.  That's a good example to set.  And it was so great to see a race of this size and caliber in Highlands! - about 250 runners and walkers, more than I was ever able to attract during the many years I directed the Highlands PTO 5-K and then the Mountain Lakes 5-K.  There were also many families with children, and our burgeoning Cross Country team as well.  With a rock and roll band and free beer at the finish line, it seemed almost as if we were no longer in Highlands.  There I was, after my race and my cool-down, sipping a tasty lager courtesy of The Ugly Dog Public House, watching friends cross the finish line on Pine Street!  A truly wonderful evening.