This was our first marathon here at Lactic and – considering the heat and an unexpected injury during our last long run – it probably couldn’t have gone any better. A questionable shin and record temperatures forced a very conservative start with an easy pace and plenty of hydration. Never hit the wall (or if that was the wall, it was relatively soft), just gradually slowed over the last 10 miles and cruised in at 4:54:24. Performance aside, we thought the race was very well-organized with plenty of support and, of course, an amazing group of spectators estimated at 1.2 million. Still sore, but would do another in a heartbeat as we figure we faced about as adverse conditions as could be expected and came out okay on the other side.
Marriage counseling and your iliotibial band
You and your body is a union based on trust. You promise to put in junk miles, stretch sporadically, and do too much speed work. Your body – according to you – promises to stay fresh, limber and responsive. And then the injury comes, an aching hip Jezebel ruining your long-term cardiovascular honeymoon. And your counselor (who looks suspiciously like a sports med doc) bucks every tenet of impartial therapy and points a finger straight at you. Bastard. Even though you’re convinced he’s wrong, you begrudgingly follow his plan. And, slowly, the spark returns. You start to remember what first attracted you to your legs in the first place. It’s good. And then a sexy 36 x 400m workout turns your head again. And you fall. But that’s over before you know it, leaving only the jilter and the jilted forced to live together once more in a crumbling house going up in flames. And inflammation.
Runnin’ with Sputnik
We recently took the plunge and purchased the new Garmin Forerunner 405. While we’ve never spent much time in this space plugging products, this is one that – although we’ve had it only a short time – we can wholeheartedly endorse. Granted, this is our first GPS-enabled gadget, so we were somewhat destined to be wowed. But everything about it (save the price, perhaps) seems right. Easy to program, ingeniously designed, and delivering everything promised when on the road, the 405 feels almost perfect. We wish it were Mac compatible (supposedly that’s coming in autumn), but we have no other complaints. There’s functional. There’s cool. And this thing sits right in the middle of that intersection.
Don’t
Don’t. I know your big race is only a few days away and you want to be your best. So new shoes should do the trick, right? Don’t. A better kick might get you to a PR, so maybe you should squeeze in one last interval session? Don’t. A new pillow, a new pre-race meal, possibly use this race to try those gel packs for the very first time? Don’t and don’t and oh-my-goodness don’t. Remember, consistency got you this far. It’s been faithful and true. It’s consistency, that’s what it does. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to excel. But the finish line is reached by staying the course. Even in training. So push down all those doubts. Stick to the plan. And don’t.
Travel Run #1: San Elijo Lagoon
While on vacation recently in California, I stopped by Movin Shoes in Encinitas (the closest running store according to Google Maps) and casually asked about local trail runs. The young salesman gave me directions to the San Elijo Lagoon. Turns out I knew where it was, just didn’t know its name or that it had trails. It’s an interesting run. Although you aren’t that far from civilization, there are times you feel completely isolated. And the faint of heart must prepare themselves for the sounds of unseen wildlife scurrying around in the underbrush through which the trail is carved (and a steady supply of lizards darting across the path in front of you). In addition, you’ll find yourself moving from dry, loose, beach-quality sand to other moist-to-muddy sections forcing you to carefully pick your footfalls. It’s unlike anything I could possibly experience here in the Midwest and worth seeking out if you find yourself in the San Diego area and are looking for a six-mile-or-less trail run.
Split time
We are unfaithful. As we head out of the running store with new loves on our feet, our old paramours are already relegated to the box under our arm. We are sailors on shore leave, seduced by stability, mesmerized by motion control. And so we look down at our faithful friends – as comfortable as an old, well, you know – and promptly unlace our way into a trial separation. I just want to see other shoes, you say. It doesn’t mean we’re over. And we’re not. ‘Cause now we’ll wear you when we mow the lawn. Pull you out for the muddiest of trail runs. You were Picasso and we want you to paint the house. So you end up on a darkened shelf until one day the door opens and two faded yet familiar beauties are placed beside you. You’ll never believe what happened to us, they say. Yes we would, you answer. Yes we would.
Counting all 5,280
A couple of years ago, Joan Benoit Samuelson helped pace Lance Armstrong as he ran his first marathon. She commented afterward that Lance was (paraphrasing) “obsessed with the mile markers.” Well, at least I have something in common with Lance. But Joan further explained she wanted Lance to focus more on rhythm and pace and let the miles take care of themselves. Much easier said than done. The very races we run are measured in miles or kilometers. So naturally we want to track ourselves against those increments. But we’ve also all had the experience of forgetting our mile marker fixation –– and the happy surprise when it appears seemingly out of nowhere. I should probably try to take Joanie’s advice. Because the watched mile marker never arrives. But, to be honest, I just glanced down for about the 40th time while writing this to check my word count. So I don’t have high hopes.
Again with the knee thing.
Non-runners love to look at runners and claim they’re ruining their knees. And, granted, any high impact activity like running does put enormous stress on your joints. But while I’m certainly not a doctor, I do know this: My knees feel a lot better when I’m running than they do in the times I’ve lapsed into inactivity. My very unprofessional opinion is the sedentary life forces bone and tendons to do the work meant for strong, healthy muscles. My knees aren’t perfect. And they may get worse over time. But I’ll take the running life. Any day.
Ennui of the hamstring variety
It happens. No matter what your goal, at some time your training schedule will be far more ambitious than, well, your ambition. Maybe your race is a long way off, maybe you’re in a treadmill rut in the dead of winter, or maybe you’re just flat out bored. No shame in that. But no sense in letting it control you, either. So shake things up. Cross train. Hit the running section at the bookstore. Or watch an inspirational movie. Some swear by Rudy or Chariots of Fire. I prefer Alien. Because, come on, if you’d been on that spaceship you’d have set some sort of PR, no matter how short the distance.
Run. Away.
In the HBO miniseries “Band of Brothers”, there is a scene where the company of American soldiers is fighting in an urban setting when a mortar shell hits. Then another. One of the commanding officers, realizing the enemy has dialed them in, immediately orders a retreat. And, without hesitation, with no concern about bravery or honor, they turn and run. As fast as they can. Now, granted, our type of running is not warfare. But most of us enter each run with a plan of attack. It’s important to remember, though, that mortars will come. So if you were planning on going long, but fatigue or a sore hamstring has you dialed in, there’s no shame in calling retreat. Fall back. Finish up. Forget about it. It’s just one run. There will be others.
A wreck, ramblin’.
Late in some NASCAR races, it’s not uncommon to see a car – long assumed out of the event – roll out of the garage area and onto the track. Except it doesn’t really look like a car. Minus a fender or two, bumper gone, paint scraped, it will limp around the track for a few more laps (and points and dollars). As runners, haven’t we all been there? We roar off the starting line shiny and full of fuel. But somewhere out there, we begin trading paint with reality. Anti-freeze starts to leak. That faulty gas gauge lies to us. And by the time we reach the final miles, we’re barely recognizable as the speed machines of just a few hours ago. It may be small comfort, but some world class runners have looked like that. For the entire race. Joan Benoit Samuelson, ever graceful in life, has always been a bit of a plodder on the road, her form belying the numbers on the stopwatch. Alberto Salazar, pigeon-toed and pitched forward, could be painful to watch even as he obliterated his competition in the early 80s. So the next time the wheels come off late in your race, take heart. Somewhere along the way is a spectator with a love for running and a photographic memory. And when he spies you huffing along, overheating and spraying oil, he’ll pause for a second, overwhelmed with a sense of deja vu. “Man,” he’ll think to himself, “that guy must be really good.”
Chin up. Time down.
We’ve all experienced things we know to be true without really understanding why. Running has one of those truths: Keep your head up and you’ll run faster. This is easy early, whether it’s training or a race. Rested, hydrated and stretched, it’s almost impossible to keep your head down. But fatigue doesn’t just make cowards of us all. It also makes us fascinated with our feet. And so our head drops, our stride shortens, and we slow down. Of course, fatigue will slow you even if you unscrew your head and hold it aloft as you run. But if you can keep your head up, you’ll be just a little faster. No matter how large the refrigerator on your back.
