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.

Fault Lines

In the middle of a regular training cycle, my little pains and niggles become normal, daily creaks. First steps on the cold wood floor shoot electricity up my calves. Hips are sucked-in tight knots.

Now that I am waiting to race, a week into my first part of a taper, I'm finding these new pains concerning. Tiring. I question whether it is normal delayed onset soreness or could it be that tiny micro-tears have split along the fault lines, becoming full fledged ruptures. One more week, that's all I need to get through, then I can take a little time off. 

A little time off sounds nice.

Into these guys the last few days. 

Future Islands

Why We Run

For those who have known me over the years or followed my ramblings on social media, they may have been witness to a fairly dramatic transition over the last two years. A few years back, I was not really a runner. I may have run occasionally when some bit of fear was chasing me, but I did not identify myself as a runner.

Now I talk, write, post constantly about running.  I think about it constantly, not only why I run, but why I now have to allow it to envelop me. I've attempted to write about this new identity before here on this blog, though I think I will be struggling with this one for years.

Enter the new episode from Solomon Running TV. Bernd Heinrich is an inspiration and captures the essence of what I have been chasing for some time. I could watch this man for hours.

"The essential thing is to run, period... and to do it for a long time, and consistently. Then everything takes care of itself."

It Gets Worse

I pretty much gave up this week. No sleep so the days never came together.

Decided to ride out the low like a fever to see if things would clear up on Monday. Happy to at least get some time on the trails with the kiddles. Hiking while wearing Marcus is good leg work. Like a weight vest. The kid is a tank.

Week ending 10/20/13

10/14/13

Mon - 1 mile (0') - Running with Roman

Had the opportunity to run a bit with my four year old. For a quick run, this was one of my happiest in a long time. Made me look forward to future runs with the boys as they get older. The kid can move pretty well and likes to weave around in front of me like it is a game. Felt like I was running with my cat.

10/15/13

Tue - No sleep, couldn't do it

10/16/13

Wed - Nothing

10/17/13

Thurs - "Rest" day

10/18/13

Fri - Another big day of nothing

10/19/13

Sat - 1:30:00 - 3 miles (500') - Hike and Seek

Got out for a hiking event with Roman. We went at his pace but had a great time working the trails. Nothing makes me happier than meandering with my boys.

Roman working as my guide. I let him manage the pace.

10/20/13

Sun - 0:30:00 - 2 miles (100') - Passaic River Park (with Marcus)

Had an afternoon with my little one so I strapped him on and went for a hike. Ran into a charming 95 year-old on the trail. Said my chubby little boy looks like he will be an athlete (apparently pronounced athaleet).

The happy tank

Miles: 6.00

Hours: 2:00

Elevation: 600'

Found this one recently.

 

My New Public Shaming Training Program

With recent lack of sleep (thank you very much infant child) and the big races behind me, I've let my training slide... likely when I could use it the most. Its sort of the "I'm not running because I'm depressed/I'm depressed because I'm not running"-conundrum.

So, I've decided on a public shaming.

Drawing from the "elites" that catalog their weekly training, I thought I try the same. Obviously few will care and none will be impressed with my lazy exercises and infrequent miles. To me, though, it could work as motivation. If I believe that one person out there who may inspire me with their own efforts or results could happen upon a post of mine, outlining a potentially weak set of training results, then I can hope to use it as the driver to get up and get out there when the rest of the world is sleeping. It isn't always easy or fun, but that motivation from shame may help me in many ways.

Let's see if it works. Next up, last week's lack of training.

The Jam - Funeral Pyre

That Night I Dreamt of Rocks

"Philistines may think that we were madmen indeed to go through such suffering and danger to arrive at this lonely spot. What did you hope to find up there, they may ask. Glory? Nobody cares about young fools who waste their best years in meaningless combats far from the eyes of the world. Fortune? Our clothes were in rags, and the next day we would go back down to a life of slaving for the barest essentials. What we sought was the unbounded and essential joy that boils in the heart and penetrates every fibre of our being when, after long hours skirting the borders of death, we can hug life to us with all our strength." - Lionel Terray

I hit my time to taper down. Felt odd in that I was not really doing heavy mileage to begin with, but I knew that it was better to be under-trained than over. At least this is what I told myself each night as I tried to fall asleep.

I was under-trained. That was understood.

But would I be able to use the accumulation of miles over the last year and a half to get my ass through three rough ten+ mile loops. The race was put on by Rick at NJ Trail Series. I had run a few of their races before and found them to be well managed, well stocked, and tough.

Could I do it? One loop. Absolutely. I even imagined I could get through it quickly if necessary. Two, sure. Three… unknown.

That is the fun with doing a first ultra. One does not know how the day will go until one is deeply embedded in the situation. That is when you begin to understand what is possible.

So in my downtime where I wasn't running as much, I had to do something race related. I prepped. I pulled materials together and planned the nutrition strategy. I went through the hydration. Clothing needs, socks, shoes, contingencies. Over and over I laid it out and convinced myself that it was happening.

Night before the race I put it all out in the guest bedroom. I knew I’d be up at 4am packing it up and getting ready for the car trip to the start line. I could have done it in the dark by that point.

Like always, I got there early. The sun had not crested the hills yet as the first batch of runners left the start/finish line area. This group consisted of the few running the 100k (six loops) and a larger group taking on the 50 miler (five loops). There was an hour for nervous pacing and prepping before we 50k (three loops) runners lined up.

I had heard Rick’s start-line prep talk before. As he has mentioned on other courses, you aren't running by GPS distance, you are running his course. Don’t complain if is it is longer/shorter, rocky or rooty.

Loop one felt okay. It was hard but well within my wheelhouse. After the yelled "go!" we were off along a grassy stretch next to the road before we turned and headed up a rocky ATV road that headed into the Wildcat Ridge Management Area. After a brief climb we were onto some undulating single track that wound through the woods through weird Appalachian-style garbage dumps. Sadly, it reminded me of dump areas you would find in some backwoods areas of Vermont where I grew up. Eventually the trail climbed up and up as it made its way to the open ridge line. Few seemed to take in the overlook on the first pass, we were still bunched so it was hard to stop and smell the flowers. I did stop and pause on loop three on the cliff's edge for thirty seconds before heading off for the finish.

After the first top out along the ridge we wound down a rocky dirt road to the first water station (mile four & nine). From here we headed out into the real nonsense. Up and down and up and down through rocks that ranged from small and unstable to large and unstable. There didn't seem to be a piece of flat footing for four miles. I believe I thought this was interesting on the first lap. It got progressively more miserable on the second and third pass. Eventually the "Nam" business calmed down and we hit more rutty dirt road. We then moved onto a bizarre paved, steep downhill spell through a quite suburban neighborhood until we were eventually back at the start line.

Still feeling good at this point

I hit the full aid station in good shape. Reloaded my bottles, grabbed more gels and quickly took off for the next pass.

Loop two started strong. What I found, though, was that as I came upon each hill, each rocky descent, I had to suffer through the thought that I would have to do this one more time on much more tired legs.

It was a few miles into the second ten that something got out of whack. The sun came up higher in the sky and the temp began to climb. I found myself needing to drink more. I guess I let my salt levels go south because at around mile seventeen the cramping began.

Pain begins as a manageable force. It grows along the way. Eventually it becomes all encompassing but still something that you can push out and move through. I knew that it was either going to get much worse or I was going to find a way to let it dissipate.

The pain became comprehensive. I couldn't ignore it anymore as the fire worked from deep inside my hips down to the tips of my toes. My mind burned with it and I found myself emotional and foggy. You begin to question that damage that is being inflicted with each step, to the point where I found that I could barely take the steps. My legs were seizing up. I was at a very uncomfortable trot, a shuffle. I was deep into the death march.

I ran (walked) miles nineteen to the aid station contemplating calling it a day. I would be at my car. I could rehydrate, get things back in balance, sit and end the pain.

At the aid station I stood in front of the food not sure what to do next. Someone asked me if I was okay. I said no, not at all. Explained the problem. She forced some salt tablets down my throat. Put some fantastic salty chips in my hand. Told me to regroup until I was ready then get my ass back out there.

I sat next to my car for a few minutes going through a quit in my head. It just wasn't going to work. I couldn't comprehend it. I sent a quick text to my wife telling her that I was in a bad way but was going to walk the damn thing if I had to. I took off before I could get a response.

For loop three, I had the pleasure of knowing that everything I was doing would be the last time. It didn't mean that things were easier though. As my body balanced itself out, I found that I could trot some sections, hiking the steep stuff. I eventually came upon a fifty miler (I believe her name was Lara). When I told her that I was in a world of hurt, she laughed it off and told me that I looked great. That little bit of reassurance was what I need to keep the pace up to get me across the line. She and I ran off and on together for the last few miles. I mentally attached myself to her and felt like she was dragging me in.

10,000+ feet of elevation change. I got there in 7:47:11. A few minutes under my target.

I immediately started to feel better the moment I crossed the line on the pavement. I did not have to run anymore that day, and now I knew that I could do just about anything I put my mind to. I just wouldn't be doing much for the new few weeks.

Some of the gear that got me through:

Shirt - Proudly wore my Altra Ambassador shirt. After the race I had a few conversations about the shoes. I believe it came from me wearing the shirt because it definitely wasn't because of my stellar results (or form).
Shoes - Altra Lone Peak 1.5. Best mountain shoe on the market in my opinion. I thought my feet would be wrecked, but they didn't have a mark on them.
Socks - Injinji Run 2.0 Original Weight. Coupled with the roomy Altra's, these toe socks have saved me from blisters, damaged nails, and otherwise bloody feet.
Bottle - Ultimate Direction Fast Draw Plus. Packed it with Gu's and flattened pieces of sandwich.
Waste Pack - Some small Nathan pack I picked up that fit about five more Gu's.
Nutrition - About 15 Gu's, a few pieces of PB&J, some chips, and a few bottles of Fluid Performance drink.
Hydration - The Fluid and either too much or not enough water. Very rarely did I get the balance right.

Leon Lutz Tries to Answer a Difficult Question

I actually had a difficult time making it through this one, as I've seen the same eyes asking the same question. I couldn't have put it any better than this and I'm happy that Leon Lutz took the time to write it. And thanks to irunfar.com for publishing this. Seriously... to me, this is an astoundingly thoughtful piece.

As a father of two beautiful little boys (and husband to a pretty amazing Mom), I understand the torment in those eyes as you get ready to head out the door. It is hard to need something that appears outright to be so selfish, yet feels so important.

I one day hope that I can teach my boys why I run.

Can You Train For a 50k on 25 Miles a Week?

For months I've been working on a post about trying to manage the balance between work, family and finding the time (and will) to run long distances.

I'm now looking back on the unfinished post last touched weeks back. This is how it started...

"I am desperately in need of some inspiration in otherwise uninspiring times."

A bit odd to be quoting myself but looking back it now warrants inspection. The buildup to my recent (first) 50k race was not going well. Over many months, starting in December 2012, I had devised a thorough training plan that then seemed to systematically breakdown week after week. My running had gone from a study in joy to just another reason why I sometimes consider myself a failure.

Any job hunt or "best companies" list search turns up plenty of language around work/life balance. It's what most "young" people add into their "must haves" in determining their reason for selecting one company over another. It is expected that life should truly be a balance between the do what you love and and love what you do-job and all the rest of the world outside of that.

But what about work/life/training balance?

In the past six months, my family and I have gone through a significant move. Not far in distance, but further enough from my job to put me a little more out of pocket each day as I manage my new commute. While this move was underway, we welcomed a new little man into our lives. And while all of this was going on, I was looking to build up my mileage so that I could attempt my first pass at an ultra-distance trail race.

See, I was turning 40 this year and had planned to do something significant. I wanted to do something both as a reward and punishment for getting old. As my running mileage picked up last year I thought to myself that a running challenge would be just the thing to show me that turning 40 could be better than 30... or even 20.

I didn't want the watch or the new shiny, fast car.

Instead, I found a race and put it on the calendar. Life be damned, I was going to make it happen. The problem was that good parts of life kept getting in the way of me developing and building to the point where I could have the confidence to complete this thing. Every week I would have my plan written out and over and over runs would be a little shy of the prescribed distance. Long weekend runs wouldn't pan out. My family life and obligations would take precedence (sometimes happily, sometimes not) over all other things.

I wasn't upset that these things were getting in the way (usually). I was terrified that I was slowly getting steps closer to failure. Each missed check-mark in the plan would send me into a bit of a mental tailspin. I watched Unbreakable. I read blogs and articles on running long. I couldn't get away from the fact that I was signed up for the Wildcat Ridge Romp 50k, a fairly challenging course made up of three 10.7 mile loops through some rocky, rooty New Jersey wilderness. August 10th loomed on the calendar.

My mileage hovered around 25 to 35 miles a week. It just didn't feel long enough to pull it off. As I eased into my "taper", I told myself that I was going to go out and give it a shot. I believed I had the toughness and fortitude to get through the pain of it, and I've always been a proficient and quick hiker. At worst, I would walk it in. I would have 12 hours to go roughly 32 miles. Seemed possible if I could focus on running your own race. So I made a plan to write RYOR on my arm and venture off into the woods.

This was not going to be a race but a run... or possibly a walk. I was going to finish.

Wildcat Ridge Romp 50k race report coming soon...

The Birthday Run

Read an interesting article on the idea of the birthday run. One mile for every year.

As I approach the final five months into my 40th, I've started to get a bit sentimental. Too many years wasted on soured relationships, self-inflicted pain, late career climbing and generally difficult living. 

The pain of the run has helped me clear my mind and settle into middle age knowing that there is a chance for some type of physical and mental redemption. I have been living in repair mode for the last few months, but think I can get there by May.

I will dedicate this run to wasted youth.

Galaxie 500 song below captures it nicely.