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.