13 x 400m intervals, with 200m jog recovery, in 75,9,7,7,7,6,6,5,7,6,7,6,4. Done in trainers. Conditions were ideal; left my house by 5:35 and was starting my intervals by 5:57--it was cool and clear, with no wind, a perfect spring morning.
This was faster than goal 5K race place (5K RP++, I guess). I will do one more track workout before the Great Bear, probably 9x600, trying to run accurate 80-81 second 400m splits.
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
Friday, May 2, 2014
ladder intervals
Ladder Intervals @ 5K race pace, 1:20 / 400m, with 400m jog recovery.
200 0:36
400 1:18
600 1:56
800 2:38
1000 3:20
800 2:42 (slow)
600 1:59
400 1:18
200 0:38
Done in New Balance 980s, which are pretty chunky. My left ankle has been feeling a little finicky, but nothing new about that. It generally works itself out after a couple miles. Beautiful spring morning today.
200 0:36
400 1:18
600 1:56
800 2:38
1000 3:20
800 2:42 (slow)
600 1:59
400 1:18
200 0:38
Done in New Balance 980s, which are pretty chunky. My left ankle has been feeling a little finicky, but nothing new about that. It generally works itself out after a couple miles. Beautiful spring morning today.
Sunday, April 27, 2014
JJR Race Report
It was good to be back at the James Joyce Ramble today! This may be the road race I have the longest history with in the Boston area, dating back to when I lived in Dedham, and discovered, quite by chance, that a huge race was setting off not a quarter mile from my house. I believe my casual "run to work and back, 0-quality, rarely race" training plan propelled my to a forty-something-something finish back in 2005 or 6, or whenever it was.
I've tried various things leading up to this race. Two years ago I ran it off no sleep after taking a red-eye train back from Philadelphia, T'd back to my town and speed-walked the 2 miles to my house before piling into my car to the race. Then I went and set my 10K PR of 35:21.
Last year I made the JJR a target race, carefully prepared for it, got a full night's sleep, showed up early, and ran a high 36.
So...this year my morning preparation was to clean my bathroom, then bicycle the 8 miles over to Dedham. The morning activity actually left me feeling pretty good--awake and relaxed. I picked up my number and went and did a warmup with Brian from HFC. When queried about my goal I said "under 36", which seemed plausible even though I haven't been doing much quality lately.
JJR was once again the site of the USATF Master's 10K championship, who started 3 minutes ahead of the main crowd. This makes the event function sort of like a handicap race, with the advance field strung out in decreasing order of grayness. It also makes the general results look waaay better than normal, as we shall see...
I ran the first (downhill) mile in 5:35, having long-ago given up any hope of negative splitting the JJR. Great to see the HFC cheering section at the turn just past Dedham Center. I ran a 17:05 or so through the first 3 miles, feeling consistently strong.
Of course the trick in the JJR is the section of hills through mile 4. In particular, the challenge is to keep enough fuel in the tank so that you can floor it through the flat 5th mile. I didn't quite swing that trick, and started to fall off pace a bit, letting two guys and the lead woman separate.
I kept pulling hard through the 5th and 6th miles, though nobody was around me except a scattering of people in the master's race, finishing with not-much of a kick in 35:52.
I was 10th overall, but really 32nd when the masters runners are included.
Good race! I cooled down with the HFC guys, then hung around for a bit until my legs felt strong enough to bike home (at which point it was time for the traditional post-race nap/comatose stupor).
I've tried various things leading up to this race. Two years ago I ran it off no sleep after taking a red-eye train back from Philadelphia, T'd back to my town and speed-walked the 2 miles to my house before piling into my car to the race. Then I went and set my 10K PR of 35:21.
Last year I made the JJR a target race, carefully prepared for it, got a full night's sleep, showed up early, and ran a high 36.
So...this year my morning preparation was to clean my bathroom, then bicycle the 8 miles over to Dedham. The morning activity actually left me feeling pretty good--awake and relaxed. I picked up my number and went and did a warmup with Brian from HFC. When queried about my goal I said "under 36", which seemed plausible even though I haven't been doing much quality lately.
JJR was once again the site of the USATF Master's 10K championship, who started 3 minutes ahead of the main crowd. This makes the event function sort of like a handicap race, with the advance field strung out in decreasing order of grayness. It also makes the general results look waaay better than normal, as we shall see...
I ran the first (downhill) mile in 5:35, having long-ago given up any hope of negative splitting the JJR. Great to see the HFC cheering section at the turn just past Dedham Center. I ran a 17:05 or so through the first 3 miles, feeling consistently strong.
Of course the trick in the JJR is the section of hills through mile 4. In particular, the challenge is to keep enough fuel in the tank so that you can floor it through the flat 5th mile. I didn't quite swing that trick, and started to fall off pace a bit, letting two guys and the lead woman separate.
I kept pulling hard through the 5th and 6th miles, though nobody was around me except a scattering of people in the master's race, finishing with not-much of a kick in 35:52.
I was 10th overall, but really 32nd when the masters runners are included.
Good race! I cooled down with the HFC guys, then hung around for a bit until my legs felt strong enough to bike home (at which point it was time for the traditional post-race nap/comatose stupor).
Sunday, February 16, 2014
OFTM race report
Last year I had pre-registered for the Old Fashioned 10 Miler, one of the staple winter races 'round these parts, only to have it cancelled at the last minute. I felt somewhat guiltily lucky, as I was not in good shape at the time, but I would have shown up anyway to "take my medicine", so to speak.
Cut to this year: off-season training is going well, and I'm in much better shape. Running conditions have been tough the last couple of weeks, and I'm excited to get in a fast run at the OFTM as a stepping-stone toward my half marathon at New Bedford. Only a pretty big weather system rolls in Saturday afternoon, and snow falls late into the night. Email Saturday morning claims the race is on, and there is nothing else by 9pm, when I last check email.
I get up moderately early this morning to shovel out my parking space and then return inside for a slice of bread with peanut-butter (the spartan breakfast I prefer prior to an 11am race), then got my kit together and headed out. I-95 is clear, but most other roads still have a layer of packed snow on them, and I'm already revising hopes of breaking 60 minutes.
The parking lot is almost totally empty, and I head in to the race HQ with trepidation, already beginning to think I should have checked email this morning. Yup; I find the volunteers in a huddle, as the RD relates that his exploratory drive of the 10 mile course showed it was infeasible to run, and they will be substituting a double-loop of the 5k course in its place. Mike Gilio gives me the heads-up that the race is in fact delayed 2 hours as well--d'oh!
I judiciously cadge a 1/4 bagel from the post-race supplies, and consider my options. I definitely want to get a long run in today, and the best thing to do seems to be to do a 7 mile "warm-up" ahead of the race, then run the 10k as a simulation of the 2nd half of a Half. Even with an hour run ahead of me, I've got some time to kill, so I walk the 1.5 miles around the block, then go back to my car for a bit.
My warm-up turns out to be quite nice--the back roads are all snow-covered and traction is poor, but there's virtually no traffic and all is calm and quiet. I focus on good form and try not to slip around too much.
I get back in time to join the pack of runners queuing up on the road. There must be 400-500 people here, the crazy fools. The two races are going off together, so there is quite a mill. Once I find my way to the front, I hear the RD explaining that the course is "actually closer to 5 miles". Good to know!
The gun goes off and immediately all thoughts of running this as a workout or some kind of simulation go careening out of my head, and I am racing. Conditions are TOUGH; I can feel snow spilling out from behind me as I try to claw the ground for purchase through the soles of my shoes (a pair of virtually treadless Nike Frees).
One guy immediately takes command of the race, and no it is not me. I'm third off the front, with another dude not far off my shoulder behind me. We hit the first turn and enjoy a brief respite of clear pavement--it is like putting on rocket boots.
Soon we are back on snow, and then we hit the 1st mile: 5:52, and it is SO NOT AEROBIC. I'm thinking currapp this is hard! A monster strength workout, for certain. We cut the turn onto Baker Street, and the guy in front of me is floating maybe 15 yards ahead. Did I hear him say he was running the 5K? I am pretty sure he said that. I focus on looking for lines of clear pavement and making the most of them (there aren't many).
Getting back onto Fox Hill, we cross our own trail, and the pack has torn the surface up, creating pockets of ankle-deep loose snow along with occasional pockets of opportunity. I can feel the #4 runner still not far behind me. We continue the loop, and soon the guy ahead of me is turning off to finish. The leader is not visible--he might also have been running the 5K, but since he was absolutely killing it I suspect he's running the longer distance.
Now we are picking up runners still on their first loop, and then fun begins. The road is filled with slightly-unstable formations of slow-moving runners and walkers, creating a moving maze to navigate. As the 4-mile mark comes in sight, I realize that my friend from the start is still tailing me. This does not make me unhappy--actually, it's awesome. How often do you get a good head-to-head race, no complacency allowed?
What follows has elements of both strategy and luck. I try to pick lines through the field that will be hard to follow, and lines that will let me monopolize pavement where it shows up. But the available routes are mostly determined by the shifting currents of the crowd. With Fox Hill quickly coming to a close, I see my opponent is still right on my shoulder. "To the finish!" he says. AYE, to the finish! We press on bobbing and weaving for all we're worth, and soon are kicking--if you can call it that--down toward the chute. I finish ahead by about 4 seconds.
It turns out his name is Russ, and we go do a cool-down, along with his neighbor. So ends the highly improvisational 19th running of the Old Fashioned 10 Miler. Props to Jim Morris and his volunteers for pulling off a successful race out of such implausible conditions. Meanwhile, I feel like I'm going to be well prepared for when the going gets tough in the last 5 miles of New Bedford--it won't be any worse than this race was.
Final Results: 5.(2?) miles in 31:52, for 2nd overall.
Total mileage today: 15.
Cut to this year: off-season training is going well, and I'm in much better shape. Running conditions have been tough the last couple of weeks, and I'm excited to get in a fast run at the OFTM as a stepping-stone toward my half marathon at New Bedford. Only a pretty big weather system rolls in Saturday afternoon, and snow falls late into the night. Email Saturday morning claims the race is on, and there is nothing else by 9pm, when I last check email.
I get up moderately early this morning to shovel out my parking space and then return inside for a slice of bread with peanut-butter (the spartan breakfast I prefer prior to an 11am race), then got my kit together and headed out. I-95 is clear, but most other roads still have a layer of packed snow on them, and I'm already revising hopes of breaking 60 minutes.
The parking lot is almost totally empty, and I head in to the race HQ with trepidation, already beginning to think I should have checked email this morning. Yup; I find the volunteers in a huddle, as the RD relates that his exploratory drive of the 10 mile course showed it was infeasible to run, and they will be substituting a double-loop of the 5k course in its place. Mike Gilio gives me the heads-up that the race is in fact delayed 2 hours as well--d'oh!
I judiciously cadge a 1/4 bagel from the post-race supplies, and consider my options. I definitely want to get a long run in today, and the best thing to do seems to be to do a 7 mile "warm-up" ahead of the race, then run the 10k as a simulation of the 2nd half of a Half. Even with an hour run ahead of me, I've got some time to kill, so I walk the 1.5 miles around the block, then go back to my car for a bit.
My warm-up turns out to be quite nice--the back roads are all snow-covered and traction is poor, but there's virtually no traffic and all is calm and quiet. I focus on good form and try not to slip around too much.
I get back in time to join the pack of runners queuing up on the road. There must be 400-500 people here, the crazy fools. The two races are going off together, so there is quite a mill. Once I find my way to the front, I hear the RD explaining that the course is "actually closer to 5 miles". Good to know!
The gun goes off and immediately all thoughts of running this as a workout or some kind of simulation go careening out of my head, and I am racing. Conditions are TOUGH; I can feel snow spilling out from behind me as I try to claw the ground for purchase through the soles of my shoes (a pair of virtually treadless Nike Frees).
One guy immediately takes command of the race, and no it is not me. I'm third off the front, with another dude not far off my shoulder behind me. We hit the first turn and enjoy a brief respite of clear pavement--it is like putting on rocket boots.
Soon we are back on snow, and then we hit the 1st mile: 5:52, and it is SO NOT AEROBIC. I'm thinking currapp this is hard! A monster strength workout, for certain. We cut the turn onto Baker Street, and the guy in front of me is floating maybe 15 yards ahead. Did I hear him say he was running the 5K? I am pretty sure he said that. I focus on looking for lines of clear pavement and making the most of them (there aren't many).
Getting back onto Fox Hill, we cross our own trail, and the pack has torn the surface up, creating pockets of ankle-deep loose snow along with occasional pockets of opportunity. I can feel the #4 runner still not far behind me. We continue the loop, and soon the guy ahead of me is turning off to finish. The leader is not visible--he might also have been running the 5K, but since he was absolutely killing it I suspect he's running the longer distance.
Now we are picking up runners still on their first loop, and then fun begins. The road is filled with slightly-unstable formations of slow-moving runners and walkers, creating a moving maze to navigate. As the 4-mile mark comes in sight, I realize that my friend from the start is still tailing me. This does not make me unhappy--actually, it's awesome. How often do you get a good head-to-head race, no complacency allowed?
What follows has elements of both strategy and luck. I try to pick lines through the field that will be hard to follow, and lines that will let me monopolize pavement where it shows up. But the available routes are mostly determined by the shifting currents of the crowd. With Fox Hill quickly coming to a close, I see my opponent is still right on my shoulder. "To the finish!" he says. AYE, to the finish! We press on bobbing and weaving for all we're worth, and soon are kicking--if you can call it that--down toward the chute. I finish ahead by about 4 seconds.
It turns out his name is Russ, and we go do a cool-down, along with his neighbor. So ends the highly improvisational 19th running of the Old Fashioned 10 Miler. Props to Jim Morris and his volunteers for pulling off a successful race out of such implausible conditions. Meanwhile, I feel like I'm going to be well prepared for when the going gets tough in the last 5 miles of New Bedford--it won't be any worse than this race was.
Final Results: 5.(2?) miles in 31:52, for 2nd overall.
Total mileage today: 15.
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Derry 16 Miler Race Report
I've been pretty quiet on the blog, which is too bad because actually plenty is going on. I closed out last year's season with the Manchester Road Race (terrible), the Gilio ho-ho-ho 5k (won it; competition light), and Charlotte's new years day 5k (17:40, well back from the winning time--I blame the holidays). I joined a new club, and payed USATF dues for the first time. I set a goal of running a fast half marathon at New Bedford in March, and I've started working toward it.
I also decided, late last Thursday, to do Derry again. My history with this race is: 2011; started the race with a "workout" mindset, ran conservatively through the hills at mile 11-12, and managed to survive the last 3 miles well enough to run a decent time; 2012; started the race with a racing mindset, felt great, ran hard, went through the half marathon in 84:53, and then suffered one of the three epic bonks of my running career (and the only one not heat-related); 2013, signed up, was in lousy shape, realized I needed to frantically prepare that weekend for an international trip, DNS.
Most people reading this will already be acquainted with Derry, but for those that aren't, it's a 16 mile road race, run in New Hampshire in January. It's notorious for being hilly and cold (duh), and is theoretically supposed to be a good pace-predictor for the Boston Marathon.
So, 2014. I had one plan for the race, and it was not to repeat 2012. (By the time I finished the 2012 race, I had sworn bitter oaths never to run Derry again, or indeed any distance over half marathon--fortunately you kind of forget that end-of-race feeling).
I car-pooled up with Dan from HFC, and we arrived in good time to get a parking spot at the middle school. Conditions were sunny and windy, with ambient air temperature around 14 degrees fahrenheit. This was fairly warm next to the local Massachusetts temps we've been having over the last week, and would have been down-right pleasant except for the wind gusts. I went with XC skiing tights, tech shirt, nylon vest, mittens and headband, with some energy chews in my vest pocket.
At the start of the race, I fingered the chrono on my wrist-watch, then decided to leave it alone. I would start my chrono at mile 13, the same place I blew up in 2012--that would set the stakes: the first 13 miles don't matter--only the last 3.
I started easily and fell into a rhythm, using the time-of-day mode of my watch to very roughly estimate I was opening at around a 7 minute mile pace. It was a nice conversational start, and I exchanged pleasantries with some of the other runners. Weather was New-England-winter-gorgeous, with white fields glinting under a blue sky, and spindrift snow curling into the air from the banks beneath the deep shadow of the evergreens.
By mile 3, I was clearly running under 7 minute pace, but I didn't know exactly and didn't want to know. I was still running well inside myself, thinking all the time of mile 13--how I would feel when I got there, and what it would feel like to really put the pedal down.
I was mostly, slowly passing people through mile 9 or so. Shortly before the first big hill, two guys caught up to me. I debated chasing them, but decided to keep to my plan: 13 mile workout, 3 mile race. As it happened, they slowed way down on that first steep bit after you take that left turn, and I slipped by them again.
Round about the series of hills at mile 11, another guy around my age caught up. His pace was a hair faster than mine, but I let it pull me along. We grunted encouragement to each other, and reeled in another couple runners.
Coming off the hills, we had a brief conversation. I don't remember exactly what he said--something about this being a good time to go. I said, "yeah--just trying to make it to 13--it's going to be game on from there." He agreed. A minute later one of his friends had caught up with us, and he mentioned in a friendly way how I had been talking some smack about the last 3 miles.
Then the mile 13 marker came into sight. I felt a thrill of excitement. Up until now, even through the hills, I had been running contained, but now the thought I had been patterning in my head, over and over, rose to the forefront of my consciousness: that the mile 13 marker was a start line, that I would hit it and begin to race. I wormed one hand out of its mitten, and with clumsy cold fingers maneuvered to start my chrono.
The mile 13 marker. I hit my watch, and surged forward. Floating behind me, I heard the words, "holy shit, you weren't kidding!". My stride lengthened, and the two other guys in my pack started to fall away. I felt pleasure mingled with doubt, remembering the feeling of being betrayed by my body when the wheels popped off in 2012. Still, there are times when a little faith is called for, and this after all had been the plan all along.
The mile 14 marker came up with surprising speed. The field was sparse here, but I saw ahead of me a girl running (the lead woman?). 6:03 on the watch. I dug in, holding the pace. Gas still in the tank! It was a wonderful feeling. As we rounded the curve onto the 3rd-to-last road, I pulled in the girl ahead of me. She was running hard, but you could hardly tell--very clean stride. I kept pulling. Mile 15, 12:05. In the distance I saw two figures running together and I started to work toward them. The distance closed as I flashed down onto the little cross-street where the race had started, and now I could see (despite vision slightly blurry from the cold), that ahead was the BAA girl leading the woman's race.
I worked the last uphill to the middle school, but despite closing hard I still finished 6 seconds back from the two people I was chasing. I clicked my watch and found I had run 18:10 for the last 3 miles, a bit better, even, than goal half marathon pace.
So here was a run that went perfectly to plan, and sweet redemption for 2012. I had played conservatively with my physiological resources, and come out with a PR. It amazes me to think that in 2012 I was five minutes faster than today at the half-marathon mark, and five minutes slower at the finish. I ran almost an inverted version of that race--slow at the beginning, then slightly accelerating, then accelerating a lot, and ultimately negative-splitting.
2012:
I also decided, late last Thursday, to do Derry again. My history with this race is: 2011; started the race with a "workout" mindset, ran conservatively through the hills at mile 11-12, and managed to survive the last 3 miles well enough to run a decent time; 2012; started the race with a racing mindset, felt great, ran hard, went through the half marathon in 84:53, and then suffered one of the three epic bonks of my running career (and the only one not heat-related); 2013, signed up, was in lousy shape, realized I needed to frantically prepare that weekend for an international trip, DNS.
Most people reading this will already be acquainted with Derry, but for those that aren't, it's a 16 mile road race, run in New Hampshire in January. It's notorious for being hilly and cold (duh), and is theoretically supposed to be a good pace-predictor for the Boston Marathon.
So, 2014. I had one plan for the race, and it was not to repeat 2012. (By the time I finished the 2012 race, I had sworn bitter oaths never to run Derry again, or indeed any distance over half marathon--fortunately you kind of forget that end-of-race feeling).
I car-pooled up with Dan from HFC, and we arrived in good time to get a parking spot at the middle school. Conditions were sunny and windy, with ambient air temperature around 14 degrees fahrenheit. This was fairly warm next to the local Massachusetts temps we've been having over the last week, and would have been down-right pleasant except for the wind gusts. I went with XC skiing tights, tech shirt, nylon vest, mittens and headband, with some energy chews in my vest pocket.
At the start of the race, I fingered the chrono on my wrist-watch, then decided to leave it alone. I would start my chrono at mile 13, the same place I blew up in 2012--that would set the stakes: the first 13 miles don't matter--only the last 3.
I started easily and fell into a rhythm, using the time-of-day mode of my watch to very roughly estimate I was opening at around a 7 minute mile pace. It was a nice conversational start, and I exchanged pleasantries with some of the other runners. Weather was New-England-winter-gorgeous, with white fields glinting under a blue sky, and spindrift snow curling into the air from the banks beneath the deep shadow of the evergreens.
By mile 3, I was clearly running under 7 minute pace, but I didn't know exactly and didn't want to know. I was still running well inside myself, thinking all the time of mile 13--how I would feel when I got there, and what it would feel like to really put the pedal down.
I was mostly, slowly passing people through mile 9 or so. Shortly before the first big hill, two guys caught up to me. I debated chasing them, but decided to keep to my plan: 13 mile workout, 3 mile race. As it happened, they slowed way down on that first steep bit after you take that left turn, and I slipped by them again.
Round about the series of hills at mile 11, another guy around my age caught up. His pace was a hair faster than mine, but I let it pull me along. We grunted encouragement to each other, and reeled in another couple runners.
Coming off the hills, we had a brief conversation. I don't remember exactly what he said--something about this being a good time to go. I said, "yeah--just trying to make it to 13--it's going to be game on from there." He agreed. A minute later one of his friends had caught up with us, and he mentioned in a friendly way how I had been talking some smack about the last 3 miles.
Then the mile 13 marker came into sight. I felt a thrill of excitement. Up until now, even through the hills, I had been running contained, but now the thought I had been patterning in my head, over and over, rose to the forefront of my consciousness: that the mile 13 marker was a start line, that I would hit it and begin to race. I wormed one hand out of its mitten, and with clumsy cold fingers maneuvered to start my chrono.
The mile 13 marker. I hit my watch, and surged forward. Floating behind me, I heard the words, "holy shit, you weren't kidding!". My stride lengthened, and the two other guys in my pack started to fall away. I felt pleasure mingled with doubt, remembering the feeling of being betrayed by my body when the wheels popped off in 2012. Still, there are times when a little faith is called for, and this after all had been the plan all along.
The mile 14 marker came up with surprising speed. The field was sparse here, but I saw ahead of me a girl running (the lead woman?). 6:03 on the watch. I dug in, holding the pace. Gas still in the tank! It was a wonderful feeling. As we rounded the curve onto the 3rd-to-last road, I pulled in the girl ahead of me. She was running hard, but you could hardly tell--very clean stride. I kept pulling. Mile 15, 12:05. In the distance I saw two figures running together and I started to work toward them. The distance closed as I flashed down onto the little cross-street where the race had started, and now I could see (despite vision slightly blurry from the cold), that ahead was the BAA girl leading the woman's race.
I worked the last uphill to the middle school, but despite closing hard I still finished 6 seconds back from the two people I was chasing. I clicked my watch and found I had run 18:10 for the last 3 miles, a bit better, even, than goal half marathon pace.
So here was a run that went perfectly to plan, and sweet redemption for 2012. I had played conservatively with my physiological resources, and come out with a PR. It amazes me to think that in 2012 I was five minutes faster than today at the half-marathon mark, and five minutes slower at the finish. I ran almost an inverted version of that race--slow at the beginning, then slightly accelerating, then accelerating a lot, and ultimately negative-splitting.
2012:
49 694 David Woodruff M 30 NEEDHAM MA 8 32:00 6:24 7 1:03:46 6:23 8 1:24:53 6:29 1:51:30 6:59
2014:
| 25 5 David Woodruff M32 Needham, MA 34:12/6:51 1:29:56(est) 1:46:47/6:41 |
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