spring training

It's that time of year! I did a leisurely 12 miler in shorts and T-shirt, with six miles in the woods. The trails are all still snow-bound, but packed enough to be runnable. The sun is warm, the brooks are babbling, and the sky is very, very blue. I love early-spring running! In a week or maybe two it will be fantastically muddy in the woods, and I can't wait.

I haven't written about my winter racing season because it essentially didn't happen. I ran the needham new year's day 5K and managed a disappointing 17:45 in windy conditions. The week of the Derry 16 miler I found out I was taking a sudden visit to Seoul for work--super exciting! But the down-side was that I desperately needed Derry sunday to stay home and work on a presentation. Then the OFTM was cancelled due to a winter storm, which spared me the embarrassment of wheezing through it (Korea+epic blizzard had left me pretty feeble, aerobically speaking).

I just wrote out my spring training plan for 2013, culminating in the Amica Ironhorse half marathon in my hometown, Simsbury CT. I attempted to run this in 2012 but wound up getting hurt a few weeks prior and having to DNS. I think I can run a way-faster Half than my current PR of 83:20, so maybe this will be the year.

Other races: hessco st patrick's 5k (3/16), JJR 10K (4/28), Gilio 5K (5/25)

Winter Racing Schedule

I just signed up for my winter races! They are:

1/1/13:    Needham New Year's Day 5K
1/27/13:  Derry 16 Miler
2/17/13:  Old Fashioned 10 Miler

I haven't ruled out running the Hyannis Half Marathon (2/24), but I haven't put down money on it yet. Sadly, no Martha's Vineyard 20 Miler this year--the same weekend as the OFTM. I know some people who routinely double-header (Don!) but that's too hard core for me.

I raced in the GNRC club race last weekend and finished in 17:27 or so, a pretty slow time compared to last year. I lost to an HFC fellow who happens to be the landlord of one my coworkers. Not to take anything away from his race, which was excellent, but man! I was feeling the rather casual approach I had been taking to training following my marathon.

This is why I love the Club Grand Prix, though. Without it, I would hardly ever go and run a race without being really prepared. But since the prix put it on my schedule, I went and ran it, ran subpar, and felt inspired to pick up quality training again and get as fit as possible for the Needham 5K.

During my 9 miler this morning I realized that summer of 2015 will mark 20 more or less continuous years of running, and that I should totally commemorate that on my blog when it happens (a little early, but I like to plan ahead). Then I thought: why wait?

So here's to 17.5 years of running! I am very grateful to have made it so far without any major problems. Hips, knees, feet, all in order. Knock on wood, I'll have still more years ahead of me then have already gone behind.

Baystate Marathon Race Report

Thanks everyone who asked me how my marathon went! It means a lot that people are curious how things are going in my little corner of the running universe. I was too busy to do a blog post immediately afterwards, then the week got in the way, then I lost power for 3.5 days, and by the end of that I had almost forgotten about it. But it would be lame to go on without any mention of the race, so here it is: the Baystate Marathon race report!

This story is told with the aid of capstone proofs. I actually don't know how "fair use-y" that is--but, well, it's my likeness and I ought to have some say in how it's used. Sorry, Capstone--please reconsider your pricing model! If digital copies were $5 instead of $15 I'd buy four!

I drove up to the race with my friend Andy from pb-runner. It was great to have some company for a trip up to a race for a change! You should definitely read Andy's race report if you're at all interested in how much difference living and training at altitude makes for a non-elite runner when racing at sea-level (answer, it turns out, is quite a lot).

Nothing to report about the start. Conditions were a little chilly before we got under way, but all signs pointed to a gorgeous day. The race set off on time, and we all jogged off to find out what the morning had in store for us.

I soon settled into a groove, running along in a line of other runners as we wended our way through downtown Lowell, and then out westbound along the southern bank of the Merrimack. I wasn't wearing my Garmin--a conscious decision to focus on my body's perception of effort, rather than numbers on my watch. Nonetheless my regular chrono indicated I was clipping along at around 7 minute pace. Perfect. 

I hit the bridge that crosses to the north side of the river still feeling fine (around 12k?). On the other side, as I began the eastward return of the first loop, I exchanged a little conversation with a slightly older fellow wearing a hydration backpack. I mentioned that I was hoping to go under 3:10, which at the time seemed pretty reasonable. He smiled knowingly. "There's still a lot of miles left in this race." Which there were.

Midrace. All systems nominal.

Things continued. I'm a little hazy about what was going through my head at the time. I think I was pretty zoned out. The eastward return has a long rather pretty tree-lined stretch with a few nice views of the river. I remember one of the timing staff was posted out by a clock under the trees, reading a book. I assume he was mainly just there to guard the expensive chrono. I remember thinking that it looked like a pretty sweet gig.

Apropos of nothing, that reminds me: nutrition! I was eating odwalla bars and gumdrops, a combination which use-testing has convinced me is a good compromise between energy and ease-of-digestion. The energy bar might seem like an odd choice, but it's actually kind of a nice distraction--you eat it really slowly over a mile or so and it gives you something to do. I ate two: at 60 and 120 minutes. The gumdrops were just quick glucose in between. It's not super-scientific, but I honestly feel like this works pretty well for me; my energy levels stayed fine throughout the race. 

Oh right, the race. As I said, things continued. I crossed the eastern bridge back to the southern side of the river and began the second loop. Soon I hit half-way, with a split of 1:31:32. Things were fine--my body definitely knew it was in a marathon, but it wasn't complaining. But I and it understood the interesting bit was still to come. Around this time, I saw the guy in the hydration pack again; he gave me a nod as he zoomed past me (the first time during the race I remember being passed, actually). Well, he clearly had a plan!

Passing half-way point. Amusing to compare this pic with the last one--form is almost exactly the same, even to the angle of the thumbs. As it should be!

I made it to the western bridge for the second time, and appropriately enough ate my second energy bar. Glad to be done with that. Just the eastern return--just another 15K or so. 

These last 15K are in fact the remaining 80% of the race.

I felt the first twinge rippling up on and down my calves around mile 18. By mile 19 they were shouting in earnest. "Ah, my old friends," I thought. "Found me again." 

"Of course!" came the cheerful reply. "We found you at Hyannis, in Burlington, in Derry and on Martha's Vinyard. We cut you off on your last 21-mile road run, just a few weeks ago. What did you expect?"

"I expected you," I thought. "But I'm making it to mile 20, anyway. I made it that far at Hyannis; I'm making it further today."

And I did. I knew at this point, however, that the way to maximize my time was not to ignore this problem, but to manage it as best as possible. This meant a deliberate alternation of jogging with timed 30-60s intervals of walking. So, at around mile 20.5 I walked for the first time. My legs wouldn't spring, anymore, but after a minute or so of walking, my calves would support a jog for a few minutes. 

Things continued, as they do. A parade of people I had seen earlier in the race streamed by me. I just concentrated on my plan. 

Somewhere around mile 23, I ran into someone who was in similar shape. "You look like you're on the same schedule as me," I ventured, seeing him stutter into a walk just ahead of me. He nodded, and we introduced ourselves (his name was Benjamin, and you can see him in the results right behind me. Turns out he ran a BQ! Awesome job, Ben!) We ran together in a kind of odd alternation; we were in almost exactly the same state, but a little off phase, so he would break into a jog, get a little ahead, and then fall back into a walk just as I was stepping into a jog again. 

"Let's make it to the bridge," he said.

I think Ben is a little ahead of me at this point.

Why is this bridge so terribly long?

We were now less than 2 miles from the finish, still alternating positions. It was immensely comforting having him around. You always wonder if maybe it's all in your head--maybe if you were a little tougher you would still be running 8 minute miles. But there was somebody else, clearly trying super-hard, clearly also fighting with the same limits I was grappling with. 

When we got to within 1/2 mile of the finish, I resolved that I had walked my last. I was going to run to the finish line, and it wasn't going to be pretty.

No, this is definitely not pretty.

ARRRRRGHHHH! (also, check out sweat beads).

The Boston Marathon has a neat youtube video up of people doing various antics at the finish--cartwheels, push-ups mugging for the camera, that sort of thing. Yeah--none of that for me. I limped off, glad to be done, glad to have PR'd, mostly just glad to be done. Unlike the last two marathons, I was not thinking: "there is no way in hell I am ever doing another marathon." So, by that low standard, I was comparatively up-beat. 

But it certainly wasn't all sunshine and roses, either. I felt like I ended in 95% perfect shape, but that didn't matter at all--not in the face of the missing 5%, the crucial weak link. I had done my homework for this race. It just turns out that I turned in a paper on the history of the Spanish civil war when what was due was a problem set on electromagnetism. The teachers were not impressed. 

This weakness in my legs, I've got to solve it. It's all in my calves, my soleus and gastrocnemius. If I can do 10 hill sprints, I need to be able to do 20. If I can jump rope for 10 minutes, then I need to be able to do it for 20. If I can do 100 toe-ups, then I need to be able to do 200--actually, make that 400. I need to be a lot stronger. I also may need to experiment with cushier shoes. I love my Frees, and I have made it through three marathon training cycles without any injury, running in them. But they may not be what I need for an actual marathon race.

That is all for this race report. I'll try to write something soon outlining my next running goals!

Final results:

 199  68/217  MM3039     DAVID WOODRUFF       Needham MA           31 M   801   59:44 1:31:32 2:10:13 3:18:29.2  7:35 3:18:39.4           

Dixville Notch Half Marathon Race Report

The Dixville Notch Half Marathon is a small race far enough North in New Hampshire to have a "Canadian" division. Traditionally it starts in Dixville Notch (fancy that), but this year it started at a camp-ground in Coleman State Park, north of Rt. 26 along a small and very scenic road that also incidentally gains lots of elevation as it climbs up to the start. The route is fairly straightforward: run the long, 6 mile descent down to Rt. 26, then run along Rt. 26 to the town of Colebrook; a few more turns in Colebrook to finish at the rec center. 

The temps were in the low 50s, with occasional misting rain during the race. I walked around the camp a bit to loosen up while waiting for my friends Tim and Giuliana to show up (they were running the relay with two more of Giuliana's friends). Once they arrived, we said our hellos, and I was able to hand off my sweatshirt to make its way to the finish via Tim's folks' car. 

There were about a hundred people on the start line, with the majority being single runners, and the rest the opening-leg relay runners for their respective two and four person teams. The RD gave us the signal to start, and the field plunged forward--and almost immediately messed up, by missing the left turn that was supposed to take us on a quick loop around the campground. Fortunately the frantic shouts of some of the volunteers corrected us, and amid calls of "I was just following you!" "But I was following you!" we bombed down a grassy embankment XC style to get back on course. 

At around the 1/2 mile mark, I had started the descent in earnest and substantially gapped the field. I thought briefly that I might just run away with the whole thing, but then footsteps behind me disabused me of that notion. I was soon pulled in by a wiry guy in a T-Shirt and baseball cap, with a beard that had a few patches of grey in it. 

We ran shoulder-to-shoulder for most of the descent down to Rt. 26, occasionally trading the lead, but never opening any significant distance between each other. The first mile was ~5:28, mile 4 passed in 21:50-something. The downhill pace was pounding hell out of my calves, and I was nervous about how they'd hold up late in the race. But I figured, this is a little test leading up to the big test of my marathon, so I might as well go for it and see what I learn. 

Some nice cheers from Tim and G at the mile 4.1 relay transition; from cheers directed at my opponent, I was able to learn his name was Jeff. 

We reached the comparatively flat terrain on Rt. 26, and I finally started to pull away a bit from my competition. We were right around the half-way point--was he done?

All along the highway a cruiser from the sheriff's office drove ahead of us with its flashers going, directing oncoming traffic to slow down. It was sort of like being in the lead of a major race, chasing down the pace car, and great fun the whole time.

By mile 8 I could feel the burning in my calves starting to hamper me. I started alternating running on the dirt shoulder with running on the road. I didn't slow down a lot, but it was enough that around mile 9, I heard footsteps again. Damn. He passed my decisively, and there was no holding on to the pace he was setting. I thought he still might falter, though, so I gamely stuck to my best pace, trying to keep contact with him as long as possible. 

Mile 10 passed in 56:54. One of my running goals, which ought to be a pretty doable goal if the right circumstances ever come up, is to run a 10-mile race in under an hour; this doesn't count, obviously, because it's a super-cheaty downhill race, but it will do until the real thing comes along. 

My calves were hurting pretty bad at that point, but I had come psychologically prepared to hurt a bit at the end, and I found that keeping going wasn't as hard as I had feared. I reached the mile 12 sign heading into Colebrook with great relief. At last I reached Main St; the police officer directing traffic at the intersection said "cross over", and I darted across to Bridge St for the final kick.

Lots of pedestrians were making their way back up Bridge St, probably relay runners from earlier legs who had gotten dropped off by the shuttle and were making their way back up the course to watch their teammates come in. I knew I must be close; I leaned on the gas, pushing hard. 

Where's the damn finish? I thought This final 0.2 is taking forever!

At some point a pedestrian called out to me: "Hey, uh, where are you running to?"

"The finish!" I answered brilliantly.

"The finish is back up Main St," he answered, pointing back the way I had come.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

I am rather proud of the fact that I did not stop, just orbited around and started running back the way I had come, though my "finishing kick" had been reduced to more of a shuffle. I couldn't quite process what I had just done, but I knew I'd be happiest if I still finished the best I could. I got back to Main  St, calling out plaintively a few times "hey, does anyone know where the finish is?" Fortunately a spectator on Main St reassured me I was heading in the right direction (because, I realized, I had no idea which way on Main St I was supposed to go). Not far after that, I saw the actual left turn to the actual finish, with an actual race volunteer pointing home. I turned in and tried to muster a little spurt at the finish, though there was no one close to me.

Tim's mom was waiting at the finish with my sweatshirt (which was awesome, by the way! Thank you!) Once I passed through the chute I went up to stand in the trees and process what had just happened. Mainly I was thinking, thank goodness I wasn't actually in the lead when that happened. I've been racing for 17 years, and never made such a simple, preventable blunder like that. If I had only reviewed the race map online and walked it over in my head ahead of time, I would have known exactly what to do. How could I have messed it up that bad? Damn damn damnity damn.

When I walked back out to Main St to watch Giuliana finish, the race volunteer told me he had had his money on me--I told him "sorry, hope you didn't lose too much." He assured me it wasn't a bet. 

My final result was 84:36, good for 3rd place (and good enough to still beat all the relay teams, hehe).  Based on google maps, I estimate I ran about an extra 0.8 miles. I think I would have run 77:30 or so without my huge blunder. (The course, as you might have gathered, is substantial net-drop). 

Thanks to the Galluses for making their car available to me to warm up when I started turning blue after the finish, and for driving me back to Coleman (and for buying us all lunch!) That was awesome. I am all kinds of sore today, but my spirits are recovered, and I'm happy to take Dixville as just another learning experience on my way to Baystate (lesson #1: don't take random detours!)

Long Run, 9-22-12

This Saturday marked my 4th, and probably 2nd-to-last, long run for this marathon training cycle. I was running by time, with a goal of 2 hours, 40 minutes. My last long run, if all goes well, will last 3 hours. 

It went well. Conditions were nearly ideal: overcast, cool and damp. The food I brought (two energy bars--one for 60 minutes, one for 120 minutes--and a bag of gumdrops) went down pretty easily, and at no point did I have an upset stomach. 

I ran steadily through six towns: Wellesley, S. Natick, Sherborn, Medfield, Dover, and Needham, and ultimately hit my goal: 2 hours, 40 minutes; a total distance of 21 miles, averaging 7:36 pace. The nutrition must have worked as I didn't bonk, but things got difficult around 2:30, all the same. This time it was my calves that ultimately slowed me down. It seems once I solve one problem I'm on to the next one. 

Been wrestling with some annoying cross-talk between the ears as I progress through this training cycle. Part of me looks at the difficulties I've had coming to grips with longer runs and wants to conclude that I'm not suited--that at 170lbs I'm just too big, or my muscle type is incompatible, or some other reason. Another part of me thinks that those words taste like excuses, that it's hard for everyone, not just me.

I'm thinking these thoughts now because I couldn't have run another 5 miles today, not in the "oh, that would be really hard," sense, but in the "I thought I could do 10 pullups--I've done 12--I really can't do a 13th" sense. My calves were just cooked. This was familiar--it was a substantial part of the reason why I had to stop at Keybank. Now I'm thinking about the last two marathons, and the 3rd one rapidly approaching, and the doubts are piling on. 

Nothing new there. Faith vs Doubt, just like the song says. So it seems I have to do something which I am temperamentally unsuited to do: believe, in the face of some fairly compelling contrary evidence, that this time it's going to be different, that this time I'm going to put all the pieces together.

Believe, and buy a jump-rope.