30 Miles

Reaching a new weekly mileage goal is a significant step in training, and I just completed a 12-mile run (my first since June 7) that brings be a little closer to that significant number:  30 miles.  All I will need to do is run 3 miles tomorrow or Sunday and I will be there.  I have found in the past that when I reach 30 miles, I simply shift into another gear.  My running surges ahead a little more easily as I shift into that higher gear; everything becomes a little easier, feels more natural. 

Today's run was long and slow and difficult (my third in three days, with some fast miles in those past two days and not much rest) and it was not easy to persevere.  But at the same time, I could really feel the lack of cushioning in my shoes.  I am a relatively heavy runner at 180 pounds and also an over-pronator, so I wear New Balance 993s for cushioning and support; I alternate between two identical pairs, which I have found gives the shoes more time to recover and extends their life.  But today I felt as if there was not much there.  I could feel each piece of gravel on Lower Lake Road, and my legs felt as if they had taken a real beaten at the end of the run.  I examined the heels.

The shoe I chose to wear today:

The perfectly good pair of shoes waiting in a box in my closet:

That says it all.  Why would a runner run on the first shoes, trying to eke out a few more miles, when he already has a brand new pair boxed up in the closet?  Too cheap, I suppose.  And shortsighted.  Because shoes - at a hundred bucks a pair - are the only major expense in this sport.

Tomorrow I will lace up a new pair of shoes, record the date under the tongue, and take them out on the road.  And it will feel like that new pair of "sneakers" felt when I was 10 years old and it was dandelion wine summer:  breeze in my face, morning dew and newly-mowed grass, and I felt like I could run forever . . .

Inspired to Soar by SOAR

Saturday I helped my friend Jim in a small way with the SOAR event here in Highlands - the Special Operations Adventure Races.  Adventure races have become popular all over the country, and the one in Highlands has been held for 13 years now.  Its participants are an elite group of truly crazy and focused, and absolutely fit, men and women who are willing to run, hike, cycle, rappel, and row canoes for 50 miles or so through some of the most beautiful and challenging terrain in the southeast, while trying to avoid getting lost with their orienteering skills.   We learned yesterday that a man named Joe Bowman, who has a home in the area, has won the race for many years; he also belongs to that elite club of runners who have completed marathons in all 50 states . . . in under three hours.

The Highlands SOAR event benefits the Special Operations Warrior Foundation, a non-profit set up to provide for spouses and children of Special Ops personnel killed in the line of duty.  Thus many of the participants are military teams, and they are always very inspiring.  I have run 19 marathons, but doing what they do in this kind of terrain all day, with a pack on your back, is way beyond my limits.  Jim knows I like to run long on Saturday, and he also knows that I love to climb Big Bearpen, so my assignment was to help his lovely wife Mary Jo on top of Big Bearpen, checking off runners and marking their "passports" - the first check stop on their long journal.  I left Town at 7:15 and arrived at the station 20 minutes later.  The men and woman who followed me up the mountain, in addition to being very fit, were uniformly positive in their outlook.  Many of them remarked on the beauty of the climb, the nice breeze, and the opportunity to spend a good day overcoming tough obstacles; they had that casual kind of confidence that veteran marathon runners have, jovial but focused, already planning on where they could enjoy some good beer at the end of the day.

Although most of the runners had come through in the time expected (one team said they gotten lost, going out Lower Lake Road instead of up Big Bearpen Road), Mary Jo and I noticed that at least six runners had not.  She suggested that I run down the mountain while she remained for another 15 minutes or so.  Surely they would be along soon.  I circled the top one time and then descended, and literally at the bottom of the mountain, nearing the stop sign on Chestnut, here came a team of four Adventure Racers.  I had no choice but to accompany them up to the top, hoping Mary Jo had not left and gone out Upper Lake Road, the only other outlet; if she had been gone, I would have recorded the team number and told Jim to give them their proper credit.  As it turned out, she was still at her station, and I had the opportunity to chat with some inspiring young men.  And shortly after that the final team came up.  (Both teams had opted to do the rappel first.)

In the meantime, I managed to run Big Bearpen twice, something I had not done in some time (I think my record has been four times), and I have to say I was a little tired by the time I arrived at Town Hall and joined the other runners in our group who had been running fast and flat as usual.  As I thought about the race throughout the day, I realized that every runner should rub shoulders with athletes like these.  They are simply inspiring.

How to I expect to get in shape running Big Bearpen only once?  Or twice?  That's no way to soar.

At Last the Patio is Finished

I finally wrapped this project up today, and it was very satisfying to see it completed.  Working with stone always gives one the feeling that it might last a little longer than wood.  I wonder how long, exactly, it might endure?  When we toured Jeff Zahner's property last year, he told us that they found old stone patios covered in dirt and weeds - they did not even know how extensive they were.  Perhaps one day this humble patio might disappear under a layer of fallen leaves, might be cracked by an uprooted tree, until there is little left despite how substantial it seems today.

"And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, 

The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, 

The solemn temples, the great globe itself, 

Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve 

And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, 

Leave not a rack behind." 

- The Tempest, Shakespeare 

Pointing the New Patio

Today was a cross-training day indeed!  The patio in front of the garden shed was completed some time ago and the slab poured (by hand) last year.

Last week, I finally had the opportunity to "stick" the last remaining rocks in place.  The process of fitting rocks into place is a bit like assembling a picture puzzle but in a free-form kind of way - wet, sticky mortar was used, and I was able to adjust the height of varying thicknesses of rock so that they were relatively level.  For some reason I thought it would be better not to cut rocks, but simply to let them find their own places.  "The Tao of stone masonry." A certain frame of mind is required for this kind of work.

 
At this point, dry mortar is used, and in a painstaking and labor-intensive method, I pushed and brushed and filled all of the cracks.  This is called "pointing" and I suppose the etymology derives from the point of a trowel.  And now I am almost finished!

There is something immensely satisfying about slow, patient work.  It is the same with stacking firewood, or writing a poem, or running a long distance - step by step, little by little, the magic of patience does it work.  I stopped to stretch from time to time, to draw a deep breath and look at the profusion of green June everywhere overhead and around me, to hear the birds singing.  Pure magic!  And that Samuel Johnson quote that has seen me through several marathons comes to mind:  "Great works are performed not by strength but by perseverance."  

But I ask myself - is this cross-training for running?  Or is it the reverse?

Clingman's Dome

We followed up our climb to Mt. LeConte with a short little climb to Clingman's Dome today, which was absolutely filled with tourists of every manner and description, most of them extremely unfit (unlike the people we saw on the upper part of the trail yesterday), but all of them enjoying themselves immensely and rightly proud of their accomplishment.  The climb is only half a mile or so, but it is very steep, and we had to admit that we felt it a little in our legs.

As we were leaving the parking lot, a young woman with several children asked us if the hike was short, and I said, "It depends on what you mean by short.  It's only half-a-mile.  But it's a little steep."

Perhaps I could have quoted Moliere to her.  "The greater the obstacle, the more glory in overcoming it."  And that includes climbing this crazy spiraling concrete tower in the middle of an endless sea of mountains.

Mt. LeConte

We have climbed this mountain many times before today - this was my 28th time and Martha's 8th time - both solo and with many others.

But that is nothing compared to many renown hikers who have made this climb multiple times.  I remember especially Ed Wright, who famously climbed Mt. LeConte 1310 times, and whom I actually met on one occasion.  In fact, I think I am memorialized in one of this old posts, if they are still out there somewhere, because he used to talk to everybody he met on the trail, find out their names and where they were from, and post it on his website when he returned home.  Although Ed died in 2009, his website is still in operation and folks can post accounts of their hikes there:

http://www.mtleconte.com/

Another great hiker who came up here often was Margaret Stevenson, who made the climb 718 times.  Her hiking boots were bronzed when she died and they are on display in the lodge:

I wear my hiking boots out too quickly for them to be preserved and bronzed, and in any case I can never come close to these amazing feats.

How can a man or a woman climb the same mountain so many times?  The answer is that it is always different, every single time, a fact which I know from my own handful of climbs.  You can be in sunshine or clouds, or clouds and fog drifting across the trail, or walking in a fairy-tale of hoar-frost or blooming myrtle in the holy silence, or feet crunching in snow in May, or a mixture of all of these.  Today we found ourselves walking a trail littered with gorgeous purple rhododendron, like bridal bouquets thrown carelessly away after some phenomenal wedding which we were late in attending. 

And this time we were entertained by this lovely deer up at the lodge, calmly munching away at the wildflowers, as unconcerned at our presence as if we were diners at an adjoining table in a restaurant.

That should be our attitude in reverently climbing this mountain:  not, "Been there, done that," but "What new and amazing thing will we discover around the next curve in the trail?"  Which is how we should live every day of our lives.

Cross Training

Tomorrow, instead of running long, we are planning a Fathers Day Weekend day of cross-training:  a hike up Mt. LeConte.  We'll take the Alum Cave Trail, a distance of 5.0 miles and an elevation gain of 2500 feet.  We're hoping for a great day - the forecast calls for mostly sunny, although these afternoon thunderstorms have become a daily event.  Maybe they will hold off until we get safely down that long trail, devoid of any shelter except Alum Cave Bluffs.

The summit is always worth the climb, whether it is running up Big Bearpen or climbing this awe-inspiring mountain.

Tempo Miles

Tempo runs are an essential part of any training program.  (Have I begun a "training program?"  I guess so.)   Some runners call a tempo run an AT or anaerobic threshold run, or a lactate-threshold run.  Runners World listed several definitions:

Jack Daniels:  "A tempo run is nothing more than 20 minutes of steady running at threshold pace."  Daniels states that this pace is, for most people, about 25 to 30 seconds per mile slower than current 5K race pace.

Pete Pfitzinger adds: "For very fit runners, the pace is between 15K and half-marathon race pace." For those fond of using heart rate monitors, Daniels notes that tempo runs are done at 90% of maximum.

Team Oregon running club:  "One fourth to one third of race distance at race pace."

The Bad Runner’s Bible":  "A type of training run based on time instead of distance. Tempo runs are good for when you have no idea how long a trail is."

 Matt Carpenter: "Four-mile tempo run on a hill at approximately 12% grade."

As for me, I have my own definition, and it is based on the marathon training program devised by Runners World Bart Yasso many years ago which I have used successfully for most of my marathons.  Tempo runs are an integral part of that program.  Yasso advises warming up (and cooling down at the end) and running steady, uninterrupted miles at your Marathon Goal Pace.  His program gradually intensifies over the course of 16 weeks until the final tempo runs are completed in weeks 10 and 11, back to back - a mile warm-up, 8 miles at MGP, and a mile cool-down.

In marathon training in the past, I have found these runs to be exhilarating.  Of course, early on in the program, you think to yourself, "Jeez, I can never hold this pace for 26.2 miles!"  But toward the end, you realize that you are running gracefully, effortlessly, perhaps even holding back just a little.  And you are starting to think that it just might be possible to hold steady, to persevere. They are confidence builders.  They familiarize you so completely with your goal pace that when you fall into it on race day, it feels comfortable, like a favorite pair of shoes that you've broken in.  Mile after mile after mile.

I have determined that my marathon goal pace (should I ever choose to run another marathon) would be 9:30 per mile.  That would give me a finish time of a little under 4 hours and 10 minutes.  So it was a confidence builder for me to run three tempo miles today in 9:23, 9:20, and 9:40. 

And now I'm tired.  I don't even want to think about 23 more miles at that pace.

The Older I Get

I ask myself again:  "What about me?  Am I gearing up for that magical long race once again?"  I have to admit that I have been thinking about it.

So I did the next logical thing and pulled my running log for five years ago, 2009, the year I ran a 3:57:22 marathon in Huntsville and qualified for Boston.  I wondered where I was at this same point in my training during that magical year. 

This week I ran 28 miles; that week I ran 33.  This week, I squeezed out twelve slow miles on my long run; that week I ran 12 miles including Bearpen.  This week I ran a single encouraging 9:12 mile; that week . . . I ran two tempo miles, back to back, in 7:56 and 7:58.

That was then.  This is now.  I may be ready for this shirt these days:

Looking Around for a Fall Marathon

That's the expression that Anthony used this morning during our long run - he was "looking around for a Fall marathon," sort of as if he was checking out restaurants on-line in a new city that he was visiting, or trying to find a good place in his yard to plant an apple tree.  I went down the list of marathons that I had run in the Fall with varying degrees of success:  Rocket City Marathon in Huntsville, with a new course this year; Richmond Marathon, where Anthony had run a PR that stood for many years; Kiawah Marathon, where he had run the half many years ago; or the OBX Marathon, the main attraction being "OBX" and the seafood and beer that follows thereupon.  And then I asked him if he knew anything about the Chickamauga Battlefield Marathon, which is in Georgia technically but actually 15 minutes from Chattanooga, which I had been reading about recently (and which revealed that I, too had been "looking around," but in a far less definite fashion).  But it is Brian, I remembered, who had run Chickamauga, that small race identified as one of the top small marathons in the country by Runners World a few years ago.

The discussion was inconclusive, but it made me realize that I had been thinking about marathons recently.  Surely a 65-year-old runner on Medicare would be foolish to try to run another marathon.  Wouldn't he?  26 miles?  Isn't it time to settle for shorter distances at my advanced age?

I took a look at my running log this week:  a 9:12 mile on Monday following a jaunt up Big Bearpen, not too shabby when considering my marathon goal pace (MGP) these days would be about 9:30 per mile.  And then those two Yassos - 800-meter intervals - that I did on Thursday in 4:06 and 4:03, also not too shabby when considering my Yasso pace would be about 4:10.  And today?  Today I slowed down, stifling my runner's ego, realizing that everybody out on the road (except dauntless Anthony) was running way too fast for me, but only going 3 or 4 miles, maybe 6 at most.  Morris passed me in his car as I was at the almost-9-mile mark.  "Still running?" he hollered out.  I went three more after that, reaching that magical 12-mile mark, where in my experience I can almost feel another gear kicking in, the next one on the little stick-shift that is my running pace, when suddenly the RPMs back off and I find myself rambling far and wide as I did last Saturday at a relaxed pace.  Why some runners I know persist in running 3.14 miles (the "usual route") as fast as they can any given day is something I have never understood.  We have gears.  We should use them.

And what about me?  Am I gearing up for that magical long race once again?

Rest Day

I think I've written on this blog before about the importance of a rest day.  Wise runners know that a rest day is not a day when you don't get to go running, it's a day when you actually get strong, when your muscles respond to that stress you have placed on them, when you replenish your body with good food and adequate sleep.

"Rest, rest, perturbèd spirit!" - Hamlet, Act I, Scene 5

I followed up my nine-mile rambling run on Saturday with back-to-back six-milers on Monday and Tuesday, and my legs are telling me to take a day off.  Monday's run included Big Bearpen, and then in the final mile I decided to pick up the pace to see how fast I could run these days after all the layoffs.  I was hoping to get well under 10:00, even 9:30, and I was surprised and delighted to hit a 9:12 pace.  Perhaps rest weeks might be a good part of a training plan from time to time!

Rest or not, I was disappointed to learn that the Shakespeare 5-K Run, benefiting Highlands Playhouse and scheduled for this coming Saturday, had been cancelled.  I would probably have been ready for this race!  Elizabethan garb (?) was suggested (which meant, to me, dragging out those tights I have finally packed away, which was not going to happen).  More than anything, though, I was disappointed not to receive the awesome shirt that was depicted on the Organizer's Facebook page:

 

Since I am a runner and a an unashamed bardolater, this was the perfect combination of two passions. Surely Shakespeare was a runner!

"If it be now, ’tis not to come. If it be not to come, it will be now. If it be not now, yet it will come - the readiness is all." - Hamlet, Act V, Scene 2 

Now that's the voice of a man who has trained for a marathon, and knows what it means to stand on the starting line!