Baby, It's Cold Outside

I haven't posted anything here in over 13 months. Sigh. Just busy with the ordinary to be honest - and not really running all that much, unfortunately.

Is it a "running life" when I can manage only 50 miles per month, and even that minor mileage makes my legs hurt?

Of course, living in Minnesota makes running an interesting challenge, due to the full spectrum of seasons we experience here. People I talk to are often aware of the fact that it can be nearly 40 below zero Fahrenheit in the winter here, but suspicious of me for lying when I say it can also hit 100 F in the summer. One nickname for it is "shake and bake" -we shiver in January, and broil in July.

As you can see, the average low in January is in single digits, and the average high in July is in the 80s. of course, the record low and record high surpass those averages.

Source: http://www.intellicast.com/local/history.aspx?location=USMN0503

This time of year, it's shivering season! Speaking of shiver, here's a post-run photo of me a couple of weeks ago - January 13, 2018.

No, it wasn't snowing, that's just condensation from breathing when the ambient temperature is 11 degrees below zero Fahrenheit.

Someone viewing this asked me what I wore on my feet in that kind of weather. My answer: shoes.

I wasn't trying to be funny, and maybe it's just me who can do this, but I wear exactly the same socks and shoes whether it's 100F or -30F. And in all temperatures in between. And my feet sweat, throughout that range!

If it's cold and windy, I will admit that my standard nylon mesh uppers on my running shoes allow that cold air to creep in during the first 3 or 4 minutes of my run, and my toes feel a little chilly. But once I'm trucking along, I don't notice it anymore. And when I finish the run, my shoes look a lot like the face mask in this picture: frosty.

Comparatively, I have a lot more trouble keeping my hands warm. What I've learned over the years is that the best approach for me is a base layer glove of moisture-wicking material (thin polypropylene), over which I pull a simple nylon shell mitten. With that combination, my hands will actually sweat during the run, and when I pull of the mitten, that same condensation-turned-to-frost will tumble out.

Some people think I'm crazy for running in such cold weather. But the thing is, I have friends who regularly run in even colder climates! As long as I'm layered properly, and visible, it's fine. By visible, the main point is that I generally run in the early morning hours, and here in Minnesota it's as dark as night. I wear a headlamp, which also has a blinking red light affixed to the back of the head strap, and I wear reflective gear including a lightweight reflective vest. At that early hour, car drivers are simply not thinking about a runner - they are just commuting to work (generally) and in a hurry. I need to be seen, so I need to light up in the dark.

One last tip: I slather petroleum jelly on that little bit of exposed skin near my eyes. It helps prevent frostbite, and also helps keep my eye lashes from freezing together when I blink. I kid you not. It's happened to me, and it's such a strange sensation - you can't open your eyes! I've had to stop, pull off my gloves, and rub my eyes back open. However, when my lashes are greased up, it never happens. Fore-warned is fore-armed, as they say.

Safe running my friends!

Paying it Forward (while being torched at Torchlight)

I ran the Torchlight 5k earlier this week in downtown Minneapolis. This event wasn't about me trying to blast through a fast paced race, it was about paying it forward. I love running, have for more than three decades now. And I love sharing that passion with others, whether it's during a morning training run with experienced runners, or it's chatting during a brown bag lunch Q & A session with co-workers. The latter, which took place a couple of months ago, gave me an opportunity to invite more folks into our world, encourage them to stick with it, and to aim for an event together. I hope that I was able to convey my enthusiasm and sense of personal satisfaction to them, as well as to answer their many questions about training, injuries, gear, and how to do their first-ever race. (Quick note: not all of them were first-timers exactly, but racing wasn't a habit for any as of yet)

In the weeks that followed, we all planned to run the Torchlight as Team MIA. Unfortunately, it was a steamy, hot, humid night - I was a bit worried about my teammates, but tried to share some common wisdom during the day (hydrate, slow down, etc.). It was really hot out there, and I know that I backed off any ideas of "racing" and just tried to run a steady tempo pace (even then I was fading a bit during the last mile). Luckily, everyone on the team made it through the event and finished smiling (and sweating)!. Results, although the website with the results seems to be offline intermittently. I enthusiastically high-fived them all, feeling proud of them, but also soaking up their own sense of accomplishment. I've run nearly 750 races in my career, and I suppose it would be easy to take them for granted now ... but sharing the experience with runners who are relatively new to the whole concept can re-invigorate you, help you remember what it was like the first time you entered a race and finished it. Very cool. Here we are, on our feet and sharing the feeling.

George Sheehan said, "The difference between a jogger and a runner is an entry blank." While that may be an oversimplification, what I like about the quote is that it sets an achievable goal and shows the world that our sport is welcoming to anyone who is interested. We're all in this together guys, even though we all face our own internal demons that threaten to hold us back, make us give up, and glue us to the couch. We battle those demons alone, ultimately, but during the battle it's sure nice to know that we've got allies all around us.

Keep up the good running all, and remember to welcome everyone, always.

A Tractor Makes a Rather Poor Race Car

I took my best shot at a 5k on Memorial Day at the Brian Kraft Memorial 5k around Lake Nokomis in Minneapolis. It didn't go so well. I have no speed in these old legs. I watched rather helplessly while over 120 others ran away from me. I was barely hanging on to average 6:00 minute per mile pace. I finished in 18:36, good for only 11th in the 50-59 age group. Results. 


I don't have a lot of excuses. It was a flat course, and a rather competitive field up front, so that should have pulled me along in the current. It was a bit warm and humid for me, but frankly even under ideal conditions I'm not sure that I could have gone more than a couple seconds faster per mile. I have to face the music: short and fast stuff is simply not my forte (as if it ever was). I was wheezing like an old plow horse the entire way, as I performed the infamous slow-fade - running every mile slower than the one before.

Bottom line: A tractor doesn't make a very good race car.

Kudos to those 10 old guys who buried me. Nice running, gentlemen, you have my admiration and my envy.


I'm heading back to the trails for a couple of longer races in June, the Sour Grapes Half-marathon and the William O'Brien 10 miler, much more to my liking - especially if they are run in torrential rain and wind through deep muddy puddles.

History Repeats Itself?

I seem to be caught in some kind of eerie version of Groundhog Day. Ran a race this morning - we'll get to that later - and once again ended up in the results as 2nd place to some mystery guy who is 58 years old, and who totally kicked by proverbial butt. The difference this time: it was an out-and-back course, and I led the 10 mile race the entire way, so it was even more of a shock to see the results post-race and learn that I somehow came 2nd.

It was pretty obvious that it was some kind of error, to everyone who was standing around looking at the printout. First of all, this 58 year old was running what would be a world-class age group time, almost 5:00 pace for 10 miles. Heck, his time would have beaten my all-time personal best by over two minutes! Hmm.

To be honest, it was probably a bit of a bear to time this event, because they had a 10 mile, 10k, and 5k, race all out on the same roads at the same time, with finishers streaming in and no obvious way to know which race anyone was in. It's possible that the 58 year old was actually in the 10k and got mis-scored, or of course it's possible that he cut the course by turning around before the actual spot to do so. Anyway, as we mulled about chatting, they started the awards ceremony and sure enough, announced me as second place. I hate this experience: now I had to walk up to receive my award and applause, only to bring everything to a pause as I chatted with the organizer, "Um, I think there might be a little error in your results". I feel like I'm being selfish, but, you know, truth is truth. Luckily, the guy who actually got 2nd place came up too, to say so. Luckily for us, the jolly race director accepted our story immediately at face value and made the announcement for all to hear.

The Sweetheart 10 mile race was held in Mahtomedi, Minnesota, which to my recently-moved-here eyes looks to be a suburb of St. Paul. The course had some rolling hills, but the two notable details were the dirt roads (maybe 30% of the race, with no mention of this on the race website) and the 800 meters (or maybe more) of packed snow and ice out on the course (rather slippery!).

The turn-around spot was particularly slick, and I decided not to fall down (some others weren't so lucky) by simply slowing to a complete stop, turning 180 degrees around in place like a dancer in pirouette (I wish), and then resuming my running. Funny.

I'll be honest: there wasn't a lot of competition. I don't want that to sound insulting to anyone. I've said many times over the years: It's a race, and the other people were racing too, it's not like they all forfeited the victory. We all did our best. On this day, I managed to win. But if any young hot shots had shown up, I'd have been soundly thrashed.

Friendly folks, not a big race, but a nice event and a nice venue. I'd do it again. The results now up on the web seem to be corrected (thank you). I'm not sure if the course was exactly 10 miles, and I'm not sure why the time on my watch was about 51 seconds faster than the time they gave me ... but whatever.

The big question: when will this odd string of losses to phantom runners of 58 years of age ever end? It is some sort of odd curse?