Running Again

It has been a long time now since I have been able to think of myself as a runner. I’ve been embarrassed about it at times as those around me, knowing that I do enjoy a long conversation about my runs, ask me how things are going. The long pause, stare at the ground and shake the head a bit, then mention that I have not been running much since the marathon in the fall.

That worked for the few weeks immediately following the race.

“I’m taking a break from it for a bit to recover.”

“I have a slight injury that I’m resting. I can’t wait to get back to it.”

Then the weeks turned into the holidays. Months passed as winter settled in and I could think of so many reasons why I did not want to go out and run in the cold and the snow. I lost fitness and started to see that I wouldn’t enjoy the running at this point. I was going to have to suffer more than normal just to get back to a level of fitness that would allow me to get the results that I had grown used to. I was being a perfectionist who didn’t want to practice to get better. I just wanted to be there… so I gave up for awhile.

Winter thawed and races that I usually ran passed me by. I actually went and watched one of them. I clapped and cheered but left feeling despondent and lost.

I finally went for a run around the neighborhood. It sucked just as I imagined it would suck. I huffed and puffed and my legs cramped and flailed. One in the books. After my shower I took stock of the fatigue and elation that was flowing through me and said that I’m going to keep this up. I’m going to put it all back together and rebuild the routine, the necessary habit.

Then I got a new job, with new responsibilities. Long hours and increased stresses. At a time when running could have been the salve to help me cope with these new commitments, I could not develop the routine to get it done. I could not make the time to get out there on the roads and trails. Where I used to be happy to run in the dark of early morning or late night, I found that I no longer had the interest. I was committing myself wholly to my new job and saving what little was left for family and a little sleep here and there. There was no longer room in my life for another obsession.

Then a text appeared on my phone one Friday afternoon. It was from my old running partner (who probably thought I was dead or in jail). Would I be interested in getting out for an early morning run on the local trails. 10k. A very familiar loop.

I did not respond for awhile. I wavered back and forth, trying to determine the reason why I wouldn’t be able to do this.

1. I had been on 4 runs max of any value over the last few months. The fitness I had would be long gone by this point. This would be miles longer than anything I done in awhile
2. I would be slow
3. I would slow him down
4. I would be pathetic out there, wheezing, hacking, stumbling along barely able to lift my feet. The confidence I had in my abilities to suffer in the woods was shattered by all that had occurred over the last few months. What if I was no longer willing to suffer?
5. My wife and kids would need me in the morning. Getting out would commit me for and hour or two. I don’t want to have to get up early. I’m not ready, etc. etc. etc.

I laid it out there for my wife thinking that she would put the breaks on it for me. Surely she would come up with a reason why this would not work. There had to be something she needed me for, some reason to get upset at the thought of me even asking.

I was relying on her to make this decision for me. She didn’t do it. She shot right back with “Sure. I think you should do it.” I waiting a while for a sign. None came so I typed the message back and committed myself to starting it all up again.

The pre-bedtime routine felt familiar and satisfying. Decide on the shoes, shorts, shirt, gear. Get it stacked by the door with keys, ID and a water bottle waiting. I knew how to dress in the dark and crack the door just enough to slip out without waking the little ones.

I started to get a little amped on the short car ride over to the trailhead parking lot. I always end up being early so I sit and listen to the radio. Part of me wondered if he might not show. Would I pack it in or get out there on my own? As I contemplated that question I was afraid that I was not sure of my answer.

I had no doubt that if I ventured out onto the 10k loop on my own, I would find some way of cutting it short, some reason to hike it in instead of working it the way I used to.
But he showed.

A little handshaking and catching up and we were on our way. I had warned him that it had been a long time since I had really done anything strenuous.

We took off. After a brief quarter mile of rooty running along the lake, the trail rises briskfully up to a slight ridge line, climbing a few hundred feet over the next quarter mile. I huffed and puffed behind Bret, keeping pace but constantly contemplating how long I could keep it up.

It was his slow day so he was able to downgrade as I worked quite a bit harder than I should have. Overall it was not destroying me the way I thought it would. My legs felt strong. My lungs, not so much. But I knew how to suffer well and could manage this for awhile.

We leveled out along the top of the ridge and settled into a nice little trot. I knew that the next stretch was a long downhill, losing what we had gained over a mile. I could coast along a bit, watching my feet for lazy stumbling among the roots and rocks.

After open field running the trail cut back into the woods into some tight, nearly overgrown single track. I love this stretch of trail and have missed it over the last few months. There is nothing better than moving quickly through the woods, working at your own perfect speed. Some days fast, other days labored and plodding, sometimes just slow. Moments to catch the light through the trees, eying the hills and drainage valleys for deer and other animals.

But all good, pleasant stretches of trail must come to an end. Down becomes up. Along the bottom stream bed for awhile, then comes the trail rising back up to the first ridge line. My energy drained and I was forced to speed hike the steepest sections. My running partner slowed his pace to a jog and stayed twenty yards ahead of me. I kept telling him that I had hit my limit and he should move on. I would finish it out at my own pace. He wasn’t having it, jogging ahead for bits. I would catch up on the flats or slight ascents.

It was not long before my energy came back, probably with the knowledge that I was nearing another downhill spell and the final mile long trot along the lake into the lot. That mile always feels longer than it is as I wait for the bridge and the trailhead lot to come into view. This time it felt just about right.

We wrapped it up at the car. Chatted for a few more minutes then both headed home to get back to our waking children. I went through the rest of the day with tired legs but a happy mind. My fatigue was earned and I felt like I had got something back that was sorely missed over the last 8 or 9 months.

This has been a transition year for me. Since the marathon back in November, I have barely run at all. I haven’t run a race. These last 10 months, I have had to focus on other things. New work, for one, and not a job I’ve found easy on my mind or life balance. I have not had the capacity to be controlled by the plans, the miles and minutes, the ascents. I’ve had to focus on other things.

Since that first day back on the trails, when I have made the time to get out and run a bit, I have left the tracking alone. Or I should say that I have left the obsessing over tracking alone. I still enjoy reminiscing over my Strava data, the maps, the climbs, the flats. But I have not gotten back into weekly training logs, expectations and goals. I have run when I needed to. When I know that, while it will not always be a great run, I will most definitely feel better than when I started. I’ve run when I needed to feel better.

As I ease back into running I am hoping to do it for positive reasons, and leave the number crunching at home. For awhile.

Ready or Not

Ready or not, it's happening tomorrow morning. Even if it goes terribly, I cannot blame the Altra The One2 shoes. Best road shoes on the market.

And then there was no maintenance...

With my sore foot weighing on me, I decided to rest this weekend before my last two-week push into the race. I guess I should use the word "rest" lightly as it felt like I was doing burpies with 30lbs of kid on my back all day. No such thing as laziness with these two kids.

Now the foot feels good. Time to clear the webs make the final two weeks a good one.

The End of Training

I spent some time today planning a long run that wouldn’t have too much elevation change in preparation for the NYC Marathon in a few weeks. As I curved the course up and down local streets on the map, I thought to myself, “is the race two weeks away or three?” After reviewing the calendar and cross-checking it against my training plan, I realized that I was off by a week.

My 18 mile race last weekend was really my last all-out long effort. For this weekend, I could trend it down into a more taper-ish 10 to 12 mile long effort.

This revelation felt nice because it meant I did not have to go through all the gear/water planning. I didn’t have to timidly mention to my wife that I would need to disappear for three hours (or more), and then spend the rest of the day massaging my thighs while bouncing kids and eating everything in front of me.

Normally, I devote a significant amount of stress time to long-run planning and post-run guilt-ridden failure management. Usually, it’s plans for back-to-back efforts that turn into half-distances or dropped runs due to kids, errands, life. Now, I’m going into the weekend stressing about wanting to run (see planning above) while knowing that I should rest the pins and get ready for big things.

My foot has been a disaster in the build up to this race, so I should be happy with the recoup time to try to sort this out.

You would think.

But none of this is easy for me. The only time I’m truly at peace with myself as a “runner” is when I’m out there running. The before, the after. That’s the tough stuff. 

Waiting to Race

I've been dormant for a while now. No blogging, dipping well below the surface on social media. I chose some sort of sulky silence over the constant sharing.

I'm in the final weeks of waiting to race and it hasn't been easy. For all the reasons shared over the last two years (plus a few more), I have not been able to train the way I initially planned. At some point I'll publish my thoughts on killing a few summer races so that I could focus on my big one - The New York City Marathon.

I've had niggling injury problems in my foot that have forced me to train hard(ish), then recoup for a few days at a time. Then add up all of life's little stresses and it started to load up until the big system broke down. That has been my last few weeks. Immunity issues that have meant focused pain, creaky joints and frequent headaches. 

Overall, I've allowed myself to rest when I need to, train hard when the tank felt full. Last weekend I got out for a hilly, decent paced 18 miler that gave me just the right amount of confidence to know that I can make it through the race and probably enjoy the experience. It won't be as fast as I would have liked, but it probably won't be as painful either, which would have been the case had I not eased up when the moment called for it.

My plan is to put some discipline into this site and blog my way into this race. I've worked a long time to build enough of a base that would allow me to get out for long runs whenever the need called to me. I might as well capture all of it as I go into this big event.

Next up, The Long Beach Island 18 miler in two days. Long, straight, and fast. Should be interesting.

I've been digging this lately.

The Year of Racing Terribly (or nearly not at all)

I write this having been up for 20+ hours tending to my son in a household ravaged by some vicious little stomach bug. I haven't had time to think about it yet, but I believe I may be fighting the thing as well. And I have a race in a few days.

I feel desperately unprepared for this one. I have miles in my legs but not enough. I have hills that have worn me out and made me stronger, but I question if I've gone high enough. Have I gone hard enough? I'm pretty sure that I have not.

Running provides a much needed outlet for me, a time and place where I can turn off the noise of the world and breath in mental silence. Not every run is a good one physically, but they have all been useful (even the really bad ones) psychologically, spiritually.

But it can sometimes lose it's impact when it is clouded by the guilt around my sometimes not being able to reach my own expectations... set around race specific training and usually the races themselves. This alone can push me to depression when running is supposed to be the thing that guards me from it.

I start to wonder and obsess on how others do it. How do they commute, work, commit time and energy to their families and still find time to be the best they can possibly be athletically. It can get lonely not being able to figure this out.

I'm blessed to have the support of one of the best shoe companies in the market. And I feel guilty for having the opportunity to represent them. Being a part of the Altra Ambassadors allows me to be inspired by a fantastic team of enthusiastic explorers, but sometimes their endeavors and successes make me feel less than.

I haven't trained as much as I would like. I won't make excuses about that. I have barely raced, but hope to pick that up as we go into the summer. I have races on the calendar including a late entry into the NYC Marathon.

I want to turn the year around. I think I may need many more long, quiet runs to figure out how.

Grit

In the madness of a family move and a newborn, I haven't really had the chance to write much. I'm working on a post about my most recent results at the Longbranch Half Marathon. Should be up over the next few days.

In the meantime, I read and enjoyed a recent article from Running Times' Steve Magness on True Grit. As
I am only 24 hours out from my race, it was a bit of a cathartic experience to read about pain. I'm feeling a lot of it right now.

Here is a great quote from the article. I might have to give my mom a call.

"Falling apart in a 5K is painful, but it's just pain," says Frey. "But falling apart in a marathon, I believe you lose a year of your life. You complete the marathon feeling utterly defeated, knowing that it got the best of you, and you go home and ask your mom if she still loves you."

Community

One week on, many tens of thousands of words have already been put on paper and screen expressing sentiments regarding the tragedy at the Boston marathon. I don't know that I can add much to the dialogue but I do have something.

I love my running community.

By most runner's histories, I am a newcomer. And I have found a welcoming, challenging group of people. Each choosing to suffer for their own personal reasons.

And everyone suffers in this sport. Never equally, but equally consistent. From the elites setting records to the weekend warriors bringing up the back of the pack, each hurts their way through each and every run. And yet, to quote Jeff Edmonds, "ours is not a violent sport."

I remember back to a particularly difficult trail race I ran last year. The wheels were coming off in full force and I found myself suffering through an overwhelming feeling of loneliness out there in the woods. I had been running alone for the last few miles. I was practically walking and people behind me were catching up. Each one slowed down, checked to see if I was okay, and gave me some encouragement to keep going. One even cruised with for a few minutes to chat. He got me running again and brought me into the next aid station where I was able to right the sinking ship.

These were my competitors telling me to pick it up, to finish with them. The loneliness subsided and I ran through the pain of the last 6 miles.

Whether it's Patton Oswalt's uplifting rant or numerous others out there, the message is clear; for every bad, angry person trying to push their skewed outlook on the world, trying to prove to the world that this is a bad place, there are a million citizens that choose good.

Ultimately, few run endurance lengths for bad reasons and I would say that none have been made worse psychologically or spiritually through the regular act of running. It is a sport of the internal, and it didn't deserve what happened in Boston.

Road Marathon vs. Trail Ultra: Which Is Harder?

Road Marathon vs. Trail Ultra: Which Is Harder?

Interesting post from Sarah Lavender Smith at The Runner's Trip. I always enjoy her thoughts on running and this one is a look at the challenges that come with two very different types of racing. Very different in format and form, but both difficult none the less.

Makes me think of the importance of specificity training.

I love running in the woods, but because my next "A" race is on the road, I've been pushing myself up and down the streets. I know that the pounding of pavement is what I need to be able to jump my next hurdle.

Then on to a 50k trail race... and into the woods.

Patagonia Marathon

From Gear Junkie, and very brief race report on the recent Patagonia Marathon. After seeing some of the photos, I have to say that this is now on my "want to run" list.

I will get there.