Showing posts with label New York Marathon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New York Marathon. Show all posts

Saturday, December 8, 2012

How I Forgot Everything I Know About Running, Missed A PR By 28 Minutes, And Ran the Las Vegas Half Marathon With Pneumonia

Look, I’m not the worst runner in the world.

I’ve run a 50K in California. The New York Marathon - twice.  I’m not fast, but I’m not last. 2:07 PR in the half set at the Ruskamaraton in Levi, Finland in 2002 (very fun race BTW).

Yet somehow, between deciding to start running again in June 2012 (after an inexplicable 4 year hiatus) and toeing the line at the Zappos' Rock n' Roll Las Vegas Half Marathon on December 2, I forgot everything I knew about running and had the worst race experience ever...

What did I forget?
  
          1)  Stay Warm

It gets cold in Evergreen, CO where I live when the sun goes down. It does the same thing in the desert. Las Vegas is in the desert. The race is called “Strip At Night”; i.e., you run after the sun goes down. I bought arm sleeves on the way to the airport in Denver. I brought a jacket with I could “leave” at the starting line. I had light gloves. I was all set to stay warm. Left it all in my hotel room.  The sun went down. I got really chilled waiting in Corral No. 21 for my wave to hit the start line 40 minutes after the gun went off. Started cold, stayed cold, ran cold. Not good for reasons that will be even clearer in a couple of bullet points.

         2)     Asphalt Is Not The Same As Dirt

I run on dirt trails in the mountains around Evergreen. Love running on dirt trails. They go every which way but straight. They go up. Down. Around. They are easy on your knees, legs and everything else. Dirt is forgiving. Plus, for some reason, you can feel fast on a trail even if you are going snail slow. Las Vegas is a city. Its streets are straight, flat and have not been made out of dirt for a long time. My feet, legs and everything else did not like Las Vegas’ asphalt very much. I hurt the next day. Everything hurt. And I did not feel fast.

         3)      Don’t Run in Shoes You Hate

When I started training for Las Vegas, I at least realized that I couldn’t run on asphalt in trail running shoes and so I bought a pair of Hoka OneOne road running shoes. And used those for my long runs. And never, ever, liked them. They are weird and over-cushioned. As far from barefoot running as you can get and still actually be touching the earth. I ran in shoes I was not comfortable in on a surface I didn’t train on. Much as you hate to give up on shoes you paid a bunch of money for, it beats running in them in a race for which you trained months and months and hating it.

         4)     Get There The Day Before.

Out of town race. Couldn’t get there until the day of the race. No expo. Had to pay $40 for the privilege of picking up my race packet the day of the race (Dear Zappos, This seems like an extra horrible money grubbing price gouging exercise to me since I’d already paid way more than $100 for the privilege of running the thing to begin with). Stressful. Frazzling. Not conducive to being rested either. Need I say more?

          5)     Drink the Water

I know how to stay hydrated. I run with two hand held Ultra bottles every time I go out on the trails even if I don’t need them. With GU in the water and GU Gels in my pockets. I thought – great to run a race where I don’t have to carry water – that will be fun. But not only didn’t I carry water, I didn’t drink much of it either. In the desert. Partly I blame the crappy water station set ups that they had, but that is not much of an excuse.

So at this point, the halfway into my story, I am frazzled, tired, cold, dehydrated, running in shoes I hate, and on a surface I didn’t train on. But there’s more!

          6)     Treadmill Miles Don’t Equal “Real” Miles

No matter what anyone says, running inside on a treadmill in front of the TV is not the same as running outside on the road.  I got the miles in but they were not strong miles. And running on a treadmill is also not running on asphalt. I mean it’s a great fall back, but it ain’t the same, and when you get to mile 12 or so, you figure it out. Too late.

         7)     A Long Taper For A Short Race Is A Bad Idea

I tapered for two weeks. Two. For a half marathon. I lost some edge in doing that. Too rested can be as bad as too tired. This wasn’t the main problem by far, but it didn’t help.

         8)     Running Up Hill Doesn't Train You For Running Flat

I ran hills. Lots of them. The only flat spot around my house is the floor of my garage. Just taking the garbage cans to the road at my house is exercise in mountain climbing. There are no hills in Las Vegas. As far as I can tell, Las Vegas is so flat that every place in town is slightly lower than every other place else in town. That’s flat. You need to train flat to run flat. And IMHO the treadmill doesn’t count.

         9)     Don’t Run Sick.

I ran sick. But I didn’t realize how sick. Its dumb. You can’t possibly have a good race. I felt it coming on for a few days before the race. “Bronchitis,” I thought. “No big deal.” I’d put in the miles, the time, the preparation. My sisters, nephew and S.O. and spouse were there to cheer me on. I had set a modest goal of 2:16 vs. my PR of 2:07. I convinced myself I was OK. The first 5K was on target pace. After that, on the flats of Las Vegas Blvd., it was all downhill to a final overall pace of 11:45 or something like that.

So, let’s review, I ran the Las Vegas Half Marathon: 


  • frazzled, 
  • tired, 
  • cold, 
  • dehydrated, 
  • in shoes I hated, 
  • on a surface I didn’t train on, 
  • without enough real road miles, 
  • following too long a taper, 
  • on a pancake flat course having trained for hills, and
  • I was sick - with pneumonia as it turned out afterwards.
Still, despite all that, I finished in 2:35. A mere 28 minutes off my PR. :-)

And I now that I have remembered all the things I forgot? I’m looking forward to my next race. Which will be:


  • on trails, 
  • in the mountains, 
  • in shoes I love, 
  • hydrated, 
  • rested.
  • warm,
  • and, with any luck, not sick.


You see, I may have forgotten everything I knew about running, but I haven’t forgotten that I am a runner.



Thanks for reading!

Friday, September 21, 2012

Why I'm Running Again

 
Life and age are funny things. They creep up on you. Ever since I stopped running with any regularity or goal a few years ago, they seem to be creeping up on me faster and faster. Which means I'm going slower and slower.

I remember a run that I had perhaps a decade ago, running through Rockefeller State Park Preserve just outside Tarrytown on the Hudson River on a sunny, chilly October afternoon. It was my last long run before my second  New York Marathon.

Now the Preserve is really quite hilly from mellow meadow to a steep pitch you swear you should have a safety line to run down or up. The only semi-flat path is the one around the lake in the middle of the Preserve (a lake the Rockefellers built so they would have one to picnic by...) and even then the path slopes and rolls up and down around the duck filled waters.

And on that day I ran and ran and ran. Up those hills, across little fast flowing streams, leaves scrunching under my running shoes, sweat pouring off me. There was one hill in particular, that I'd always had trouble making it up. I always ended up huffing and puffing. Oh, I'd make it but it was a "just barely" and "I think I can, I think I can" kind of thing. If I'd owned a heart rate monitor back then I probably would have scared myself into having a heart attack by the time I got to the top.

But this day, at the end of two hours, I soared. I reached the top in a smooth segue of heart, soul and breath, and as I rounded the top and made the crest of the hill, the Hudson lay glittering before me. The wind and the sun and the river all clapped their hands and twinkled with the laughter of sun and swirling red, yellow and orange leaves. I can still smell how the wind was, the smell of earth, and decaying leaves and season more beautiful for its fading. I don't know that I have ever felt so alive as I did in that moment. That sense of connection between body, mind, soul and world. A bit, maybe, of what the Buddhist call "Big Mind" I suspect.

I've missed that connection since I stopped running regularly, that feeling of one's mortality pumping strongly in your chest. Of knowing its strength and weakness. That it can carry you to the top of the hill but not beyond your numbered days. Its a good thing to know. Life that is. That's what "running for your life" really means. That's why I've started running again through the trails around my house here in Evergreen. Its a tough slog right now, I'll be honest. It's not much fun. The altitude is a killer, the extra twenty pounds are a knapsack I'd rather not carry. Nor the years for that matter. But its coming back a bit.

Yesterday when I ran across the Elk Meadow and up Bergen Peak, it was cold and damp and the sun flitted from pine branch to pine branch, here and there I could see it, that Big Mind. Once or twice I felt it poke my soul. "Big Mind happy to have this old runner back chasing it", it laughed deeply and silently.

And this old runner, well, this old runner is glad to be running for his life again.

Thanks for reading.