Dashing Through the Snow

The Winter Trail Race Series Race 2 that took place last Saturday was quite an adventure. Running 10 miles on single-track trails that were covered with several inches of loose snow was one of the most physically-challenging things I've done in many years. Even today, three days later, my legs remain sore (especially calf muscles, hips, and the arches of my feet). Despite all of that, there is a certain level of satisfaction at having completed the race, and at having done much better than I expected. Ironically, my very slow-looking pace of just under 9:00 minutes per mile actually represents the hardest effort that I've put into a run in a very long time, in fact it has been nearly two years since I got after it with such intensity. I wonder what my pace would have been if there had actually been some traction out there.

It was a cold morning, about 15 degrees F I think. I somehow managed to convince Xiao Wang and Diane Kenna to come along with me. Of course, Xiao needed to exact some revenge for going off-course at the December race, but for Diane this would be one of her first real trail races. I knew it would be hard, but I also know that she is a very tough runner.

On my brief warmup jog, I tried out the first half-mile or so of the course. The snow was deep enough to present problems, plus it was that sort of gritty, loose snow (not the nice packable snow) that makes you feel like you are running in dry sand (except for the obvious temperature difference). From my perspective, it wasn't going to make much difference what shoes you wore, or if you opted for ice cleats or spikes - this stuff was just too deep, and it wasn't going to offer up much traction, period.

The field was a bit smaller than the December race, but no less enthused. I was one of only 3 to be wearing shorts (hey, it's a "race", right?). We started just about on time at 9am, and headed across the parking lot to the trails. There was a bit of jockeying for position in the first 1000 meters. The race combined those running one lap for five miles and those running two laps for 10 miles, with no real way to know the difference. In addition, you had the option of stopping at the five mile finish and calling it a day, even if you'd signed on for 10. I wouldn't call it chaotic, but I was surprised to have a couple of guys literally sprint around me just to get to the singletrack more quickly. Truth is, I passed all of those folks back eventually, except for one guy (who I believe finished 3rd in the five mile, and must have simply gotten a slow start before cranking it up). I have no qualms about people running this way, unless they downshift markedly when the single track starts, which thankfully no one did on this day.

I was sitting in about 12th place overall at the 10 minute mark, a bit better than I expected. The young horses were already off the front, and I could see that Xiao was among the top 3 - good for him. He had opted for lightweight racing flats, and I wondered if he was getting any traction at all. I had my Inov8 Flyroc 310s on, and except for the gritty snow I was doing okay.

Around the first lap we went. I was yo-yoing a bit with two runners in front of me. They were clearly faster on the downhills, but I was reeling them in on the uphills. I've often referred to myself as a tractor among sports cars when it comes to racing, I think that's why trail races suit me better. Seemed to be ringing true in this race.

After a brief respite on a gravel road with hard-packed snow (about a mile, from 2.6 to 3.5 miles of the loop I estimate), we were about to re-enter the single-track when two of the young guys completely missed the turn in front of me and one other runner who looked familiar from the December race (I think it was Jim Sonneborn). We shouted out to them, and they sprinted back, offering thanks ... only to fade back quickly - I never saw or heard them again. For the next 3 miles, Jim and I kept up the same rhythm: he'd pull away on the downhills, I'd catch up to him on the uphills. After about 1.5 miles of the second lap, I decided to pass him - surprisingly on a downhill section. I'd been running on his heels for the previous three hills, and I think he was tiring a bit. I surged by, and then tried to put some distance on him (because I can't outkick anyone anymore, and also the last half-mile was mostly downhill where he was clearly better than me). I thought I had him gapped, when I heard someone moving up behind me along that gravel road again. Entering the single-track, I glanced back to see that it was someone new (I think Jon Sellers). He must have been running the second loop much faster than the first. In fact, the results showed that he ran the second loop more than six minutes faster than the first. Either he was holding back, or he missed the start!

The second loop was just a bit more runnable, because more than 150 pairs of feet had mashed the snow down a bit, and stirred up just a few leaves and flecks of dirt. Anything for a little more traction!

As I hit the final downhill, with its switchback trail, I saw Xiao only about a minute ahead of me. Too tired to cheer him on, I just kept plugging away. At this point we were passing the back of the five mile pack, and most of them were incredibly generous to step off the trail and cheer us on as we went by. I love trail runners for this kind of thing. In a road race, lapped runners throw elbows and crowd the aid stations - but in a trail race they actually stop and let you go by. Amazing. Thank you.

In the final 600 meters there is a trail that runs along the edge of ravine, which forces you to deal with a sideways angle. In the slippery snow, this was almost funny. On the first lap, I'd slipped badly a couple of times, but I had not fallen. Now, on the final stretch, I was a bit more weary, and I finally fell for the first time all day - not spectacularly - just a slip on an off-camber trail that made me stick a hand into the snow to right myself. Cold!

I continued on to the finish line, managing garner 5th overall out of 64 hardy souls. I ran negative splits, but I think most everyone did because the trails improved slightly with traffic. Still, on a course that by all rights should have been used for a snowshoe race, I have to be pretty happy.

Grabbing a cold beer (brrr) post-race, I had a nice chat with second-place finisher John Montgomery, who's an old dude like me (maybe not quite as old, but we are from the same era). He's a talented runner, obviously, I'll have to see if I can get in good enough shape to give him a run for the money someday soon.

Xiao grabbed third overall, and Diane ... well, I think she found the day adventurous and kind of peaceful. I was afraid she'd cross the finish line and slap me dead in the face for dragging her out there. But she finished with a smile, grabbed a beer and a pretzel, and told us of having run alone for most of the day, fearing she was in last place! Not so, my friend, you ran strong. And I promise that most trail races aren't quite that hard!

Now I'm motivated to run the remaining two races in this series. These races have provided the perfect way for me to ease back into competitive running after so many months away. Friendly people, single track trails, physical challenges, bad conditions - the kind of stuff I love to run in.

Back to Lewis Morris Park on Saturday

I'm planning to head back to Lewis Morris Park in New Jersey on Saturday to have a go at the 2nd race in the 4 race series put on by the NJ Trail Series folks. This time, the distance is 10 miles and there is a strong likelihood of messy snow on the trails. Sounds like fun. I expect the field to be smaller than last time, but we'll see.

By the end of this week, I'll have 14 consecutive weeks of fairly consistent running in the bank. Finally starting to feel like myself again. Well, at least my nearly-50-year-old self. As I approach a new age group, time to re-set all the personal records again and start over. That's fine, I know I'll never be as fast as I once was (although I can dream, can't I?). When I really think about it, 30 years ago I'd run a 5 mile road race and be aiming to break 5:00 per mile pace, while now I'd like to think I can manage the same distance at just a hair under 6:00 pace by this summer. That's only one minute per mile slower after 30 years, not so bad right?

Apparently, as we men age we are supposed to gain about 5 pounds per decade, and our race times go down by about 6% per decade. If I apply these rules to my sample set of one (me), I come in right about where I should:

• I weighed about 145 lbs in college, and I'm around 156 lbs now (the formula says I should be 160 lbs, so I guess I'm slightly ahead of the curve a bit on that one).
• I ran 5 miles at 5:00 pace in college, and I'm hoping to run just under 6:00 pace now (the formula says I should be able to run 5:57 pace). Okay, there's a goal.

I know that there are some runners who just seem to go on and on, never losing a step, and others who actually get FASTER in their 50s (I want what they are having for breakfast) ... but I'll take my 6:00 pace goal gracefully, knowing that I haven't come apart at the seams ... at least not yet. Time will tell. Literally.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow ...

Okay, I will say it aloud ...

After 10 weeks now of fairly consistent running, I'm going to claim that I am actually living a Running Life once more. Whew. That was a long time being lost in the dark woods of injuries. May I never take that path again.

In fact, it was early December when I realized that I had not run a race of any kind during 2010. I'd been injured most of the year, and then simply out of shape. But then it occurred to me that I had never failed to run against competition at least once per year, every year since 1973 (yes, that's right, the pre-disco era, and the final full year of the Nixon Presidency, when he uttered the infamous "I'm not a crook"). Well, this just would not do. I had to race in 2010.

So I scoured the internet for some kind of low-key race that I could enter and enjoy. I found one, a nice little trail race in New Jersey, put on by the NJ Trail Series folks. A 10k on the hilly trails of Lewis Morris Park, the old high school stomping grounds of my pal and fellow Harriers coach Kevin Horty. The previous year they'd had a relatively small field, and the times were reasonable. I could finish mid-pack and not completely embarrass myself!

I asked a few friends, and found a pair of adventurers who were willing to come along: my old friend Peter Masullo and my new, young friend Xiao Wang (both Harriers). Off we drove in my decrepit old Honda in the cold morning of December 11, 2010.

We found the venue just fine, and stood in the registration line a bit long, which gave me pause. These little trail races are exploding in popularity, I wondered if the field was going to be bigger than expected. As we completed our warm-up run, I was proven right. The Race Director (great guy, totally honest and doing his best) announced at least a 20 minute delay to get everyone registered. That led to quite a crowd standing around shivering. Xiao and I just kept jogging around. I think we had nearly 3.5 miles of warm-up running by the time we could line up at the starting line.

Finally, we were off, and attacking the first steep uphill. I felt surprisingly good, actually. Probably in about 25th place right away, better than I'd planned. The race had the 5k and 10k fields combined, no way to know who was in which race. The 10k was simply two 5k loops, simple enough. After about a half mile, we hit the first section of single-track. This is where technique comes into play, and the wisdom and experience of wily old vets like me can actually make a difference. We hit that uphill single-track, and within 1 minute I'd passed 10 other runners. They were tip-toeing along, staring at their feet, perhaps terrified of the rocks and roots below. Me, I'm a tractor, so I just chugged on by. Pretty funny, at least for me. Luckily, there was enough room to get by on the sides, and it was December so there wasn't much underbrush to trip me up.

Despite no racing in my legs and no speed training to speak of, I was doing all right. Well, admittedly I was huffing and puffing noticeably, but that was to be expected. For the next couple of miles things settled in. Xiao was off with the lead pack, Peter was bouncing around in the over-crowded trails somewhere behind me, and I was basically running along with the lead woman, who was a terrific climber but a bit picky on the descents, so we kept yo-yoing back-and-forth.

I hit the first 5k in about 22:10. Yeah, that's slow, but I was running pretty hard to achieve that and the course was fairly technical and featured a lot of turns (plus, just like an inexperienced high schooler, I had a little side stitch - yeesh). As I started my second lap, I feared that I would fade badly. But I actually hung in there. Trading the "lead" with the first woman definitely helped me, although during the final 1.5 miles I decided to stop passing her on the downhills so that she could be left alone to run her race and not have to keep passing me back on the uphills (after all, she was winning her race, I was just trying to hang in there). Over the final 400 meters she kicked it in and pulled away, while I just got across the line in one piece. I finished in 44:39, so my second lap was 22:29 and not anywhere near the crash and burn that I'd worried about. I'll take it!

All three of we Harriers had to pack up and leave before the results were posted at the race site, but I was thinking I'd been about 15th place in the end, out of maybe 150 runners. Xiao had been up with the leaders and had even moved into first place at one point, but he took a wrong turn and ended up finishing behind me. I know he was disappointed in that, but he seemed to enjoy running on the trails nonetheless. Peter was happy to be out in the woods, but his traditional start-slow-finish-fast had been impossible with so many people all over the single-track, so he just settled in to enjoy the day.

I was quite surprised when the results were posted online. I was 8th overall in a field of 145, and (on a technicality) given first in my age group (the technicality: they eliminated the top three overall from the age-group standings, and two of them were in their 40s, plus one other runner ahead of me was in his early 50s). So, really, I consider myself 4th in my age group. Like I said, I'll take it.

They posted some photos from the race (and amusingly enough from the warm-up laps too) online here. If you plug in my bib number of 40, you'll see some proofs - including Xiao and I doing some warm-up miles.

In retrospect, I am really happy we trundled out the NJ on a cold morning so that I could keep at least one streak intact. There are three more races in this series during January and February, and I'm hoping to do at least one if not all three of them. Maybe I can convince a few more Harriers to come along next time.

To the Race Director and crew: fantastic job, really. I am assuming the field was much bigger than you expected, but you were clear about it and kept things together. You helped set a fun and positive tone with your pre-race announcements. The course was well-marked and just challenging enough to make it a real trail race. Too bad it was a dry and cold day so that we had no mud, but maybe next time. Having the automated timing system was a real plus for a trail race, and a pleasant surprise. I wish I could have stuck around for post-race fun, because I saw some tempting snacks and libations. You definitely made me want to come back for more races.

Happy New Year everyone. Hope it's a good one. Let's ALL remain injury-free this year, shall we?

Dare I say it aloud?

After what has been a very long and frustrating string of annoying injuries, I have actually managed to strap on running shoes and get out there fairly consistently now for the past six weeks. Is it possible that I'm actually finally staging a comeback of sorts?

I'm not the superstitious type, but I'm almost afraid to write this - to proclaim anything - for fear of upsetting the fates and having everything collapse again. Let's hope I have finally turned some kind of corner.

Mind you, I'm not talking about anything impressive. Just some 4-5 miles jogs at 8:00 per mile pace (on the downhills). But at least there is a little wear and tear on my running shoes again, and some sweaty running togs to throw into the washer. That's got to be progress, right?

With some luck (and patience, and a careful build-up), I might even consider doing a real workout before too long, or even (gasp) a race. I'm thinking a low-key trail race, some little event where everyone is friendly and there would be no pressure at all, just smiles and fellow racers encouraging one another. Oh, and maybe some knee deep mud. Always liked knee-deep mud. Good for the skin. And the soul.

Hope to see you out there soon.

Notes on a Non-Running Life?

Perhaps I should rename the blog ...

I have been long remiss in posting because, well, I'm still not running.

Oh, I jog now and then. If I'm lucky, about 35 minutes at a tiptoe pace. And if I'm really lucky, nothing swells up immediately afterward and I can actually walk with no limp the next day. Yeesh.

In my 32+ years as a "runner", this has been the longest duration of down time. That includes several other fairly severe injuries, a couple of surgeries, torn tendons, etc. There was once a time that I bragged about running every single day for five consecutive years (oh, so long ago). Now I'd be happy to run just 2 or 3 days a week. For whatever reason, that's been too much to ask of my body for the past couple of years.

So, today, on the occasion of celebrating exactly 49 years since I arrived, sputtering and wailing, into the doctor's and then my mother's arms in Madison, Wisconsin - I have only one birthday wish: please let me get back to running!

The bottom line is that I have one more year until hitting age 50. I hope to take that year to slowly, patiently work myself back into shape.

I hope that your running is going much better than mine. Thanks for reading. I promise I'll get back to more-regular posts soon.

The Third Running Boom

We runners used to be part of a happy fringe. Now, everyone thinks they are a runner!

Blame Oprah. Blame Willy C. Blame Lance and P Diddy and Katie. Blame Runner’s World. Blame the mainstream press too, they perpetuate the idea that running a marathon should be accepted almost universally as some kind of lifetime acheivement, bucket list item, or rite of passage ... no matter how slow you are.

But I'm going to propose that the actual number of runners is a fickle figure; it waxes and wanes over time. In fact, I think that we are now in the midst of what is actually the third "Running Boom".

The first running boom was in the 1970s. Many believe it was fueled by Frank Shorter's gold medal in the 1972 Olympic Marathon. I think you also have to acknowledge the contribution of Jim Fixx's excellent, influential, and best-selling book, The Complete Book of Running. The 1970s also saw a significant growth in road racing - it seemed like every small town suddenly had some kind of an annual race, and as runners we were amazed when some of them grew to over five HUNDRED participants - gasp! We were a happy fringe. Our running nerd heros included Boston Billy, The Great Greta, Joannie the Approachable, and Dr. Sheehan, our own philosopher! Sure, we were running nerds, but we didn’t care. We were a happy fringe.

Running faded a bit during the 1980s. Big races managed to hold fast, but the lure of cocaine and nightclubs prevailed upon the tastes of the young. The hip and trendy bought roller blades, and eschewed running as “boring”. Some tried to run, but developed shin splints and quit, or took up the new sport of triathlon, or just plain hit the couch and got fat. We runners were still a happy fringe, 80's style.

The second running boom was in the 1990s, and I'll call that the "marathon boom". It was fueled by celebrities (see above) and loads of everyday/chubby folks proving they could "run" marathons. The result was the explosion of a plethora of fund-raising 5k fun runs, which squeezed out a lot of the older (and longer and tougher) small-town races. In addition, it seemed that there was suddenly a marathon in every state on every weekend of the year. Jeff Galloway wrote tirelessly about strategies for mixing running and walking during races, or completing marathons with a MINIMUM amount of training and mileage (to we "real" runners, the mere thought that you would approach a race as serious as a marathon with the intention of doing the minimum amount of training was simply absurd). In many circles, there was loud criticism of this "democratization" of running. The argument went something like this: once you proclaim that your sport is for everyone, you reward mediocrity and spoil any chance for excellence: Running boom, racing bust. The 1990s also saw the birth of the Penguin movement. No, not those kind of penguins. This was a self-proclaimed and proud group of plodders who even found their own guru, John Bingham. Suddenly, runners weren't such a fringe anymore ... anyone could be a runner. The influx of these "joggers" (yes, that used to be a derogatory term!) watered things down a bit. It added raw numbers to our general pool, but in fact that growth proved difficult to sustain. After the initial excitement, a lot of Oprah-wannabes and other newbies managed to complete (often painfully) their one marathon, then often quit running shortly thereafter. Also, the runners in the country during the 1990s were trending older and older. It just couldn't last. At about the same time as the dot com crash, the number of runners once again went down. But not for long.

At present, I believe that we are in the midst of the third boom, which really kicked into gear about 3-4 years ago and seems to be fueled mostly by an influx of young women. Of course, as young women flock to the sport, men will follow, increasing the total numbers even more. From my casual scanning of race results, it looks like the average age of runners is trending back down again. I have read that statistically there are four times as many race participants as there were in the 1980s. However, it would seem that today's runners seem more interested in general fitness than peak race performance. Racing is now more of a social activity. In addition, there is a wide array of expensive Batman-like gear that you see people wearing, as if it was a kind of special uniform for their everyday run: fuel belts and iPods and HR monitors and GPS watches, wires hanging out, hands filled with sloshing bottles and/or technology controls, fancy caps and cute little matching outfits (Aha! There is money to be made! Marketing!) ... it's all kind of funny, and it's definitely NOT hard core like it used to be. Rather than focusing on competition, today’s runners (women and men alike) seem more interested in spending time together. They train and even run races in groups, keeping their pace in synch with the slowest of their tribe, instead of pushing themselves to their limits. Our sport has become so much more affiliative (contrast that with the famous "loneliness of the long distance runner"). People are interested in particular races and make plans months ahead of time, not because that race would offer top-flight competition or a chance to run a personal best, but because it would be a wonderful vacation spot, hey, let's bring the whole family!

I don't mean to sound too sarcastic here. Another running boom might potentially mean a more healthy populace. Of all potential exercise regimens, running/jogging/walking certainly has the lowest barrier to entry, and anything that would help this country get in better shape has got to be good. Plus, lots of runners means lots of running-related commerce, and that leads to a wider array of gear for us to select from, be it clothes, shoes, or even sunglasses. More runners means that we have a larger peer group: that means more friends and potential mates ... that all sounds pretty good.

So I'm now a complete convert: The Third Running Boom is for everyone, come on in, the water's fine, we're happy to have you. If you want to be a runner, all you have to do is get moving and apply the label yourself. You're in.

(Still, in my darker moments, I have to admit that I kind of miss being part of a small and happy fringe. Maybe I'm just old. Ah, yes, the good old days were always better, weren't they?)

I'm still here

Contrary to impressions, I haven't completely disappeared. I have been remiss in updating this blog, though, sorry about that.

On the running side, I remain in the dark purgatory of a seemingly-never-ending injury to my left hip. Doctors, injections, physical therapists, accupuncturists, and willfully ignoring the thing have all failed to gain a cure. I'm still in pain 24 hours a day, and that's been true for over seven months now. I'll keep fishing around for something that will actually help this thing get better. At this point, I think I am left with time ... I've heard it's supposed to heal all wounds. We'll see.

This is now my longest layoff from running in my entire adult life. Longer than the time I completely severed my achilles tendon and needed reconstructive surgery and a long painful rehab. To say that this year of running (er, not running) has been frustrating would be a vast understatement.

But life does present us with hurdles, some small and some large. I can see that this is one of my large ones. It's important to be patient, but it's difficult to maintain that in the face of month after month with no real progress. As runners, we all go through periods of injury, this one has just been particularly long for me. Sigh.

I was working on a conclusion to the general training outline I've been posting here. I'll get back to that and post soon. Again, I apologize for the delays, perhaps I need to stop feeling sorry for myself and get back to communicating and sharing (hey, any chance that might have any healing powers?).