As was discussed in my previous post, I have moved back to New Jersey from Columbus, OH after my times at Ohio State and subsequent employment in the great Buckeye State came to an end. On Sunday, July 31, 2011 I began my career as a medical student; receiving my first white coat. After years and years of hard work and late nights, my official education as a future physician has begun!
With this exciting transition has come a new challenge to maintaining my training. It's not finding the time to still run, but in fact finding actual areas in which to run! When I moved up to my new neighborhood, one of the thoughts that came to mind was that this is a relatively sustainable area, but it is no where near being considered eye candy.
So after the hustle and bustle of moving in, white coat ceremony, and figuring out what exactly my schedule for this first week entails, I laced up my running shoes for my first run yesterday morning. Not quite sure where to head, I went for a run along the roads which I have driven since I've been here. The first mile was alright. Plenty of low-income housing around to remind me that I am by no means living in a white collar, affluent society. A few more miles pass and I find myself in an area that I'm assuming has been described by some of the locals as an area which I should avoid if at all possible. After another mile of this, I decided it was going to be an out-n-back run. I waited for my GPS to beep 4 miles and then turn around.
So, yes, I got an easy 8 miles in, but I did not exactly find the run relaxing and enjoyable (as I usually do). I have my work cut out for me to find a good area to get in some longer runs around here!
The search continues...
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Variables and Constants
Well it looks like I am, once again, LONG overdue for a post on my actual blog versus my semi-daily Twitter posts. So much has happened in the past six months that I don't think I'd actually dare try to cover all of them in one post. But here's an outline:
Job change.
Half marathon debut.
Med school acceptance.
Preview of life to come.
As many know, I graduated from The Ohio State University in December of last year. I enjoyed my Christmas break with friends and family in PA, NJ and OH and then returned to Columbus to find a job. After nearly two weeks of tireless searching I was offered a position climbing cell phone towers. Yes, those big, tall, cold towers that allow everyone to text, chat and surf the web no matter where they are, would be my work place for the next two months. I enjoyed the work and enjoyed the travel. It was a very physical job. Climbing towers day in and day out with nearly 60 pounds of gear on your back was an excellent full-body workout.
However, the industry soon required that I find additional employment and I shortly thereafter took a position at a running store in Columbus. I had experience working in the business sector or running in the past and so I felt relatively comfortable taking this position. After a couple weeks of training, I felt relatively up to speed on the latest and greatest in the running world and shortly thereafter began helping out with the training groups that were offered through the store. I started pacing a group of runners training for low 3:00 marathons and 1:30-!:40 half marathons. I quickly realized how rewarding of an experience this would become. Becoming well acquainted with and integrated into the relatively tight-nit running community of Columbus, OH is something that I can only say I wish would have happened earlier in my interim in that wonderful city. I went on to see one of my running 'pupils' go on PR by a full 20 minutes in the Pittsburgh Marathon and saw another do exceptionally well, despite her limited training schedule, in the Columbus Distance Classic. I look forward to remaining actively involved in the running community wherever I am geographically located as my professional pursuits continue.
Shortly after I was hired on at the running store in Columbus, I was approached by my boss to see if I wanted to run for the store in the half marathon that was just over a month away. Excited at the thought of getting back to racing after my injury in the fall, I obliged. I already had a good mileage base but upped the miles a big more and integrated in more speed work. Race day came and I toed a starting line for the first time in over a year. This race was a first in two regards. First, it was my first half marathon. (I know people usually start with half marathons and then proceed to full marathons. I did the opposite.) And second, I pushed myself to a new limit.
On May 7, 2011, the gun went off and I along with the 12 or so other runners in the lead pack flew through the first mile at 4:55. While I felt good, I knew that was a silly pace for me to think that I'd be holding it for the remaining 12.1 miles. I soon fell into my own groove and ran my own race for the next 8 miles. My strategy was simple. I wanted to run my first 8 miles at a steady 5:40 pace and then run negative consecutive splits for the next 5.1 thereafter. As mile 8 came and went, I was right on pace for around a 1:16. However, I wanted 1:15. Anyone who knows me well knows that slacking in this type of situation for me simply is not an option. The bike escort that was with me for the race hinted to me around mile 10 that if I was going to hit my goal time, that I had my work cut out for me. Already breathing moderately heavy, I glanced over to him with that semi-masochistic look in my eye and said, "let's do this!" And it should be known that this phrase has a bit of history with me. Somewhere along the line, I started using this as my motto during hard workouts. What it truly expresses is my mentality on race day. I go into every race with the idea that what better way to die than to have my heart explode during a race? Is this sick? Maybe? Do I leave the course feeling confident that I gave it 110%? Absolutely.
The last 5K seemed to fly by with relative ease. I came up on mile 13 and I knew I had to put up or shut up in this last sprint to the finish. The time was already around 14:40. I put everything on the line and as I turned the corner with the finish line in site, I did something I have never actually done in a race. I puked! I was determined to be under 1:16 or not even bother finishing the race. So up came breakfast and onward my legs carried me. I finished in 1:15:50 and took 11th place out of some 8,000 runners. I'll consider it a success for my first half marathon with only one month of legitimate training :) Faster times are sure to ensue. My eyes are set on 1:13 for the fall.
And while the excitement of a successful first half marathon was exhilarating, what was soon to follow would eclipse that accomplishment.
I arrived to work on the morning of May 16, 2011 and after about an hour of working with a customer, I went into the back where my coat was hung up and lunch waiting. I grabbed my cell phone out of my coat pocket to check messages and saw that there was a missed call and voicemail from a number who's area code looked familiar. It was the area code for a medical school at which I had interviewed in the fall. Despite the fact that being on a cell phone at work is frowned upon, I had worked too hard for too long to wait and find out what the phone call and voicemail were about. I returned the call and it was the director of admissions. We exchanged brief greetings and she explained to me that I had been selected for their incoming class and wanted to know if I was interested in accepting. YES!!!!! Of course I was!!!! I had waited so long for an acceptance into medical school and that day had finally come. I was going to be a doctor!
School would begin July 31 and so I put in my notice to work that July 1 would be my last day. July came before I knew it and I found myself saying good bye to many running buddies, training partners and running routes for which I had run hundreds of times over the past five years.
In the coming years of my medical education and truing, there will be times when exams and studying will limit my weekly mileage. But nonetheless, it will surely be present in my life. It's part of a healthy balance.
And so in this time of change, I can say I have gained a number of things from the past six months. One, great experiences during my interim between undergrad and medical school. Two, relationships formed primarily through running that I know I will have for years to come. And three, the continued understanding that no matter where life and my newly-forming career take me, running will continue to be a part of my life; a part of me. I will always be a runner.
Let's Do This!
Job change.
Half marathon debut.
Med school acceptance.
Preview of life to come.
As many know, I graduated from The Ohio State University in December of last year. I enjoyed my Christmas break with friends and family in PA, NJ and OH and then returned to Columbus to find a job. After nearly two weeks of tireless searching I was offered a position climbing cell phone towers. Yes, those big, tall, cold towers that allow everyone to text, chat and surf the web no matter where they are, would be my work place for the next two months. I enjoyed the work and enjoyed the travel. It was a very physical job. Climbing towers day in and day out with nearly 60 pounds of gear on your back was an excellent full-body workout.
However, the industry soon required that I find additional employment and I shortly thereafter took a position at a running store in Columbus. I had experience working in the business sector or running in the past and so I felt relatively comfortable taking this position. After a couple weeks of training, I felt relatively up to speed on the latest and greatest in the running world and shortly thereafter began helping out with the training groups that were offered through the store. I started pacing a group of runners training for low 3:00 marathons and 1:30-!:40 half marathons. I quickly realized how rewarding of an experience this would become. Becoming well acquainted with and integrated into the relatively tight-nit running community of Columbus, OH is something that I can only say I wish would have happened earlier in my interim in that wonderful city. I went on to see one of my running 'pupils' go on PR by a full 20 minutes in the Pittsburgh Marathon and saw another do exceptionally well, despite her limited training schedule, in the Columbus Distance Classic. I look forward to remaining actively involved in the running community wherever I am geographically located as my professional pursuits continue.
Shortly after I was hired on at the running store in Columbus, I was approached by my boss to see if I wanted to run for the store in the half marathon that was just over a month away. Excited at the thought of getting back to racing after my injury in the fall, I obliged. I already had a good mileage base but upped the miles a big more and integrated in more speed work. Race day came and I toed a starting line for the first time in over a year. This race was a first in two regards. First, it was my first half marathon. (I know people usually start with half marathons and then proceed to full marathons. I did the opposite.) And second, I pushed myself to a new limit.
On May 7, 2011, the gun went off and I along with the 12 or so other runners in the lead pack flew through the first mile at 4:55. While I felt good, I knew that was a silly pace for me to think that I'd be holding it for the remaining 12.1 miles. I soon fell into my own groove and ran my own race for the next 8 miles. My strategy was simple. I wanted to run my first 8 miles at a steady 5:40 pace and then run negative consecutive splits for the next 5.1 thereafter. As mile 8 came and went, I was right on pace for around a 1:16. However, I wanted 1:15. Anyone who knows me well knows that slacking in this type of situation for me simply is not an option. The bike escort that was with me for the race hinted to me around mile 10 that if I was going to hit my goal time, that I had my work cut out for me. Already breathing moderately heavy, I glanced over to him with that semi-masochistic look in my eye and said, "let's do this!" And it should be known that this phrase has a bit of history with me. Somewhere along the line, I started using this as my motto during hard workouts. What it truly expresses is my mentality on race day. I go into every race with the idea that what better way to die than to have my heart explode during a race? Is this sick? Maybe? Do I leave the course feeling confident that I gave it 110%? Absolutely.
The last 5K seemed to fly by with relative ease. I came up on mile 13 and I knew I had to put up or shut up in this last sprint to the finish. The time was already around 14:40. I put everything on the line and as I turned the corner with the finish line in site, I did something I have never actually done in a race. I puked! I was determined to be under 1:16 or not even bother finishing the race. So up came breakfast and onward my legs carried me. I finished in 1:15:50 and took 11th place out of some 8,000 runners. I'll consider it a success for my first half marathon with only one month of legitimate training :) Faster times are sure to ensue. My eyes are set on 1:13 for the fall.
And while the excitement of a successful first half marathon was exhilarating, what was soon to follow would eclipse that accomplishment.
I arrived to work on the morning of May 16, 2011 and after about an hour of working with a customer, I went into the back where my coat was hung up and lunch waiting. I grabbed my cell phone out of my coat pocket to check messages and saw that there was a missed call and voicemail from a number who's area code looked familiar. It was the area code for a medical school at which I had interviewed in the fall. Despite the fact that being on a cell phone at work is frowned upon, I had worked too hard for too long to wait and find out what the phone call and voicemail were about. I returned the call and it was the director of admissions. We exchanged brief greetings and she explained to me that I had been selected for their incoming class and wanted to know if I was interested in accepting. YES!!!!! Of course I was!!!! I had waited so long for an acceptance into medical school and that day had finally come. I was going to be a doctor!
School would begin July 31 and so I put in my notice to work that July 1 would be my last day. July came before I knew it and I found myself saying good bye to many running buddies, training partners and running routes for which I had run hundreds of times over the past five years.
In the coming years of my medical education and truing, there will be times when exams and studying will limit my weekly mileage. But nonetheless, it will surely be present in my life. It's part of a healthy balance.
And so in this time of change, I can say I have gained a number of things from the past six months. One, great experiences during my interim between undergrad and medical school. Two, relationships formed primarily through running that I know I will have for years to come. And three, the continued understanding that no matter where life and my newly-forming career take me, running will continue to be a part of my life; a part of me. I will always be a runner.
Let's Do This!
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Running; It's Never Boring
A few days ago; we received a break in the Ohio weather. It was above freezing and raining. That is, it was about 35 degrees and sleeting. I sat inside and waited for a relative break in the frozen pellets so I could pound out a few miles. In celebration of it being a bit 'warmer' than usual, I decided to ditch the running tights and go with shorts.
The rain finally dissipated enough to run without getting totally soaked and so I headed out on a route I have run, literally, hundreds of times. My expectations for the run were all-in-all, normal. North on High to Henderson, make a left at the light, turn south onto the bike trail and head home. Nothing exciting. For the most part, my run would conclude with my expectations met in their entirety. However, there were a few out of the ordinary events that made this 8-mile workout blog worthy.
Event #1:
Now anyone who has been a runner for any considerable amount of time has become acquainted with the ritual of greeting any fellow, random runner that they may encounter while out on their route. Acceptable gestures consist of the following 3 techniques:
1) The nod. More often than not, the simple combination of a transient moment of eye contact with a barely noticeable head nod suffices to convey, "Hello. Yes, we're both runners. I see you. You see me. Now let's both get on with our workouts."
2) The wrist flick. This is probably my personal favorite. When out in public and you see someone you know, you generally wave to them. That is, you raise your hand, forearm, elbow, and proceed to physically acknowledge that you know they are there. This is far too much work for runners. The wrist flick consists of (with a split second of eye contact) the flicking wrist's arm swinging forward and the hand's index finger pointing to the sky at the hand's foremost position in the swing. It's a technique perfected over time and a one that clearly speaks of your vast running experience (insert semi-sarcastic tone). If you lift the entire arm and give a full, legit wave the only other gesture that screams 'noob' louder would be to the wear the t-shirt from your first 5K which you ran just last weekend.
3) The "how ya doin'". Second only to the wrist flick, this is a personal favorite of mine. (Possibly because it allows me to say the line with a nice tint of Jersey accent.) There's not much explanation needed for this technique. The only thing which must be noted is that whatever you do, do NOT sound out of breath when you offer this most superficial of all greetings to your fellow runner.
And so now that I have pointed out the three acceptable gestures in the running world, you can understand the significance of what I was about to experience. As I was headed north, a man in a full-out 1970's sweat suit with big, clunky snow gloves comes running toward me on the same side of the road. As the distance between us quickly disappears, I hear it, "high five!" I looked up to realize what this rogue runner said with only enough time to get my hand barely high enough for my fingertips to barely graze the outside of his palm. Not only did I just high-five some strange man running in a retro sweat suit, but it was potentially the most awkward high-five I've ever experienced. I spent the next 3 blocks trying to figure out what just happened. "Did I know that guy?" "Who high-fives total strangers?" "What WAS he wearing?" "Maybe I should have looked at his elbow to make better contact." Regardless, it was a moment in running history where all my norms and runner mores were greatly threatened. But fear not, I'm alive and well.
Event #2:
As the initial shock of my high-five experience wore off, I began to regain focus and was nearing mile 5 of the run. I turned south on to the bike trail and turned a corner after nearly a third of a mile to be reacquainted with one of my worst foes on any running route I've traveled; geese. Like sumo wrestlers and sky-diving, runners and Canadian geese don't mix.
Now I have had run-ins (pun fully intended) with geese before. Many years before when I was still in high school, I went out for a run early in the morning on some nature trails near my home. I came around a corner on the wooden pathway to find a mother goose and her goslings minding their own business. Sure that I was there to devour her entire family, the mother goose proceeded to chase and hiss at me. I was altogether obliged to evade the situation and run like I had never run before. Add to that the loudest scream you've ever heard a 15 year old boy yell and you can probably paint a pretty accurate mental picture of the scenario.
Fast forward 9 years and here I am, once again, face to face with one very grouchy goose. The sound of that hiss was all too familiar to me, but what was not familiar to myself was how I would react in the coming seconds. I didn't scream. I didn't jump. I didn't even change my pace. I barely even changed course.
I hissed right back!
I think the goose was as stunned as I was. After running another 100 yards, I realized that I just matched a goose's greeting. This clearly had not been an average run.
I was more than happy to make it back to my house where a hot shower was waiting. As I walked in the front door, I realized that running is, as I have correlated in past posts, much like life. While a lot of the day-in-day-out routine is planned and predictable, there will be "unexpecteds." There will be men in vintage track suits running at you wanting awkward high fives and there will be irate momma gooses ready to hiss the hell out of you. And the point isn't that you avoid these unknowns, but that you'll learn something about yourself in said circumstances. You might just hiss back.
PS Don't wear shorts when it's that cold. When the blood starts to flow back to your thighs, they'll itch like an itch you've never felt before.
The rain finally dissipated enough to run without getting totally soaked and so I headed out on a route I have run, literally, hundreds of times. My expectations for the run were all-in-all, normal. North on High to Henderson, make a left at the light, turn south onto the bike trail and head home. Nothing exciting. For the most part, my run would conclude with my expectations met in their entirety. However, there were a few out of the ordinary events that made this 8-mile workout blog worthy.
Event #1:
Now anyone who has been a runner for any considerable amount of time has become acquainted with the ritual of greeting any fellow, random runner that they may encounter while out on their route. Acceptable gestures consist of the following 3 techniques:
1) The nod. More often than not, the simple combination of a transient moment of eye contact with a barely noticeable head nod suffices to convey, "Hello. Yes, we're both runners. I see you. You see me. Now let's both get on with our workouts."
2) The wrist flick. This is probably my personal favorite. When out in public and you see someone you know, you generally wave to them. That is, you raise your hand, forearm, elbow, and proceed to physically acknowledge that you know they are there. This is far too much work for runners. The wrist flick consists of (with a split second of eye contact) the flicking wrist's arm swinging forward and the hand's index finger pointing to the sky at the hand's foremost position in the swing. It's a technique perfected over time and a one that clearly speaks of your vast running experience (insert semi-sarcastic tone). If you lift the entire arm and give a full, legit wave the only other gesture that screams 'noob' louder would be to the wear the t-shirt from your first 5K which you ran just last weekend.
3) The "how ya doin'". Second only to the wrist flick, this is a personal favorite of mine. (Possibly because it allows me to say the line with a nice tint of Jersey accent.) There's not much explanation needed for this technique. The only thing which must be noted is that whatever you do, do NOT sound out of breath when you offer this most superficial of all greetings to your fellow runner.
And so now that I have pointed out the three acceptable gestures in the running world, you can understand the significance of what I was about to experience. As I was headed north, a man in a full-out 1970's sweat suit with big, clunky snow gloves comes running toward me on the same side of the road. As the distance between us quickly disappears, I hear it, "high five!" I looked up to realize what this rogue runner said with only enough time to get my hand barely high enough for my fingertips to barely graze the outside of his palm. Not only did I just high-five some strange man running in a retro sweat suit, but it was potentially the most awkward high-five I've ever experienced. I spent the next 3 blocks trying to figure out what just happened. "Did I know that guy?" "Who high-fives total strangers?" "What WAS he wearing?" "Maybe I should have looked at his elbow to make better contact." Regardless, it was a moment in running history where all my norms and runner mores were greatly threatened. But fear not, I'm alive and well.
Event #2:
As the initial shock of my high-five experience wore off, I began to regain focus and was nearing mile 5 of the run. I turned south on to the bike trail and turned a corner after nearly a third of a mile to be reacquainted with one of my worst foes on any running route I've traveled; geese. Like sumo wrestlers and sky-diving, runners and Canadian geese don't mix.
Now I have had run-ins (pun fully intended) with geese before. Many years before when I was still in high school, I went out for a run early in the morning on some nature trails near my home. I came around a corner on the wooden pathway to find a mother goose and her goslings minding their own business. Sure that I was there to devour her entire family, the mother goose proceeded to chase and hiss at me. I was altogether obliged to evade the situation and run like I had never run before. Add to that the loudest scream you've ever heard a 15 year old boy yell and you can probably paint a pretty accurate mental picture of the scenario.
Fast forward 9 years and here I am, once again, face to face with one very grouchy goose. The sound of that hiss was all too familiar to me, but what was not familiar to myself was how I would react in the coming seconds. I didn't scream. I didn't jump. I didn't even change my pace. I barely even changed course.
I hissed right back!
I think the goose was as stunned as I was. After running another 100 yards, I realized that I just matched a goose's greeting. This clearly had not been an average run.
I was more than happy to make it back to my house where a hot shower was waiting. As I walked in the front door, I realized that running is, as I have correlated in past posts, much like life. While a lot of the day-in-day-out routine is planned and predictable, there will be "unexpecteds." There will be men in vintage track suits running at you wanting awkward high fives and there will be irate momma gooses ready to hiss the hell out of you. And the point isn't that you avoid these unknowns, but that you'll learn something about yourself in said circumstances. You might just hiss back.
PS Don't wear shorts when it's that cold. When the blood starts to flow back to your thighs, they'll itch like an itch you've never felt before.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Sometimes Life Happens
As many of you know, I have spent the better part of the last 8 months in training for next weekend's race. The 2010 Columbus Marathon.
I have had an incredible spring, summer, and early early fall of training. My mileage peaked in mid September at 80 miles per week with my longest runs nearing 23/24 miles. I have spent countless hours training and hundreds of miles running in preparation for what I have intended to be my fastest marathon to date.
Along with the overall accomplishment of having simply put in the mileage that I have, I am also walking away from this season of training with some new personal bests. Most notably, a new 10-mile time of 51:30, averaging a 5:09 pace.
As race day approaches and with nearly all of my training behind me, I have set my goal time as 2:28. This requires a pace of 5 minutes and 40 seconds per mile.
Unfortunately, I will not be able to compete in the Columbus Marathon. On Thursday, September 30 I went out for a routine 10 mile run during recovery from a long-distance interval workout from the day before. After about 400 yards into the run, I noticed some discomfort on the medial (inside) side of my left knee. I am accustomed to the aches and pains that come with distance running and so I did not think much more of the irritation for the remainder of the run. The next day I went out for another workout and made it all of two blocks before the once-mild pain now became sheer agony. I ended the run and walked home. After taking a couple days off, I went out to see if some R&R was what my body needed. It wasn't. After 2 miles, I walked home.
I saw my sports medicine doctor the next day (Monday) where she then ordered an MRI. The scan came back fine and I was therefore prescribed some anti inflammatory medication and took a few more days off. I resumed running after 7 days of rest. I began with a shorter run, then a mid-distance run, and today attempted a longer workout. After 12 miles, my body had enough.
While the medications have eliminated the pain, the problem is still there. My body's natural compensation has caused an alteration of weight distribution to the knee. My Ileotibial bands (IT bands) and posterior (back of the knee) muscles and ligaments were tightening up severely. So, with my future running career in mind, I have decided that running Columbus next weekend would be a very unwise decision.
So, yes, this is a major disappointment. At the same time, however, I have 10 years of distance running experience and know that life happens. This is just part of the sport. I will run again and I have learned a lot from this training. I am walking away from this season with new knowledge and wisdom to incorporate into the training for my next marathon.
Therefore, in conclusion, even though I will not be crossing the finish line next weekend I still know who I am. I have trained like a champion and have no regret for giving my best effort every day I laced up my shoes. I put in the miles, I endured the distance, I will run again. It's the journey, not always the destination that determines a runner. It is the former that has made me the distance athlete that I am. One race can't take that away from me.
I appreciate everyone's support and understanding through my training and now through my altered plans. Thank You.
I have had an incredible spring, summer, and early early fall of training. My mileage peaked in mid September at 80 miles per week with my longest runs nearing 23/24 miles. I have spent countless hours training and hundreds of miles running in preparation for what I have intended to be my fastest marathon to date.
Along with the overall accomplishment of having simply put in the mileage that I have, I am also walking away from this season of training with some new personal bests. Most notably, a new 10-mile time of 51:30, averaging a 5:09 pace.
As race day approaches and with nearly all of my training behind me, I have set my goal time as 2:28. This requires a pace of 5 minutes and 40 seconds per mile.
Unfortunately, I will not be able to compete in the Columbus Marathon. On Thursday, September 30 I went out for a routine 10 mile run during recovery from a long-distance interval workout from the day before. After about 400 yards into the run, I noticed some discomfort on the medial (inside) side of my left knee. I am accustomed to the aches and pains that come with distance running and so I did not think much more of the irritation for the remainder of the run. The next day I went out for another workout and made it all of two blocks before the once-mild pain now became sheer agony. I ended the run and walked home. After taking a couple days off, I went out to see if some R&R was what my body needed. It wasn't. After 2 miles, I walked home.
I saw my sports medicine doctor the next day (Monday) where she then ordered an MRI. The scan came back fine and I was therefore prescribed some anti inflammatory medication and took a few more days off. I resumed running after 7 days of rest. I began with a shorter run, then a mid-distance run, and today attempted a longer workout. After 12 miles, my body had enough.
While the medications have eliminated the pain, the problem is still there. My body's natural compensation has caused an alteration of weight distribution to the knee. My Ileotibial bands (IT bands) and posterior (back of the knee) muscles and ligaments were tightening up severely. So, with my future running career in mind, I have decided that running Columbus next weekend would be a very unwise decision.
So, yes, this is a major disappointment. At the same time, however, I have 10 years of distance running experience and know that life happens. This is just part of the sport. I will run again and I have learned a lot from this training. I am walking away from this season with new knowledge and wisdom to incorporate into the training for my next marathon.
Therefore, in conclusion, even though I will not be crossing the finish line next weekend I still know who I am. I have trained like a champion and have no regret for giving my best effort every day I laced up my shoes. I put in the miles, I endured the distance, I will run again. It's the journey, not always the destination that determines a runner. It is the former that has made me the distance athlete that I am. One race can't take that away from me.
I appreciate everyone's support and understanding through my training and now through my altered plans. Thank You.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Running; It's Not A Gentleman's Sport.
First off, my sincere apology for entirely neglecting my blog this summer. While I had originally planned on this summer to be some what of a drag and very boring, it has been anything other than. I hope this post is the beginning of many more in the near future.
I am currently running between 70 and 80 miles per week and am running 6 of those 7 days. This brings me to an average workout distance of 12-13 miles. I'm reaching a level of fitness that I have never experienced before. Yesterday was my day off and so I decided to go with my dad on a longer bike ride. We rode over 30 miles. It was in the later part of the ride that something clicked in me. Something that I had never really taken the time to define. That is, what makes a competitive distance runner different from most people and yet very similar to athletes of many sports. As my father and I reached mile 25 it was becoming apparent that I, in no way, am a cyclist. My butt had spent enough time with the saddle (apparently that's what cyclists call the 'seat'??) and my legs were requesting the rest of the day off. It was at this moment that I realized that there's a part of competitive runners that shares the same tenacity as that of an NFL lineman.
My body was beginning to fatigue, but my heart and soul forcefully responded, "Alright big boy, it's time to go to work. Let's do this!" This began the final push. So far during the ride we had averaged around a 18 mph pace. I was now pushing 23-24.
I find myself in this same mentality after mile 15 or so of my longer runs. My glycogen stores begin to disappear and I'm no longer running on easily-tapped sugar reserves. I'm running on guts. I'm no longer the 'warming up, maintain perfect form' machine of the earlier miles of the workout, I'm now your worst enemy. The hype and emotions of the earlier miles are gone and it's time to separate the men from the boys. It's no longer a game. This is serious.
Embrace the fatigue. Embrace the pain. Learn to let these very 'obstacles' be your fuel. They either rule you, or you rule them. In the words of Ryan Hall, "Distance running is a sport of pain tolerance."
He is right.
Let's do this!
I am currently running between 70 and 80 miles per week and am running 6 of those 7 days. This brings me to an average workout distance of 12-13 miles. I'm reaching a level of fitness that I have never experienced before. Yesterday was my day off and so I decided to go with my dad on a longer bike ride. We rode over 30 miles. It was in the later part of the ride that something clicked in me. Something that I had never really taken the time to define. That is, what makes a competitive distance runner different from most people and yet very similar to athletes of many sports. As my father and I reached mile 25 it was becoming apparent that I, in no way, am a cyclist. My butt had spent enough time with the saddle (apparently that's what cyclists call the 'seat'??) and my legs were requesting the rest of the day off. It was at this moment that I realized that there's a part of competitive runners that shares the same tenacity as that of an NFL lineman.
My body was beginning to fatigue, but my heart and soul forcefully responded, "Alright big boy, it's time to go to work. Let's do this!" This began the final push. So far during the ride we had averaged around a 18 mph pace. I was now pushing 23-24.
I find myself in this same mentality after mile 15 or so of my longer runs. My glycogen stores begin to disappear and I'm no longer running on easily-tapped sugar reserves. I'm running on guts. I'm no longer the 'warming up, maintain perfect form' machine of the earlier miles of the workout, I'm now your worst enemy. The hype and emotions of the earlier miles are gone and it's time to separate the men from the boys. It's no longer a game. This is serious.
Embrace the fatigue. Embrace the pain. Learn to let these very 'obstacles' be your fuel. They either rule you, or you rule them. In the words of Ryan Hall, "Distance running is a sport of pain tolerance."
He is right.
Let's do this!
Thursday, July 8, 2010
more is coming
Hi folks, I know I haven't updated in a while. As some of my closer friends know, since I've returned home for the summer, I've had some issues come up which have been taking up most of my time. I'm maintaining my training, just haven't had the time to maintain my updates on here. You'll hear from me soon.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Setting the tone for summer training. Running ahead of the sun.
After returning home for the summer, I've had a number of... well... miserable runs. My second time out I, thinking that sleep was more important than getting up and running early, found myself on what was probably more of a self slow-roast on the side of the road than an effective workout. I started that run at 9 in the morning. Since I'm someone who likes to stay up late, 9 o'clock counts as practically not having slept at all. By about 5 miles in to a 7 mile run, the name of the game was survival, far from the original goal of increasing my VO2 max.
I decided my run the next morning would start at 8 instead.
Still a bad idea.
How early DO I have to get up?
Since then, I've been getting up at 6:30 to hit the road. There is something to be said about getting up this early. It is nice to get up and out before most people are awake (of course for the elderly couples who seem to have an overwhelming presence in my neighborhood.) These runs are cooler and have allowed for better workouts. However, there is also something to be said about AFTER the run. While I enjoy the early start, I usually stretch down, shower, drink some water, and head back to bed for a few more hours before my actual day begins. Oh the things that are done to make for a cooler workout.
A post regarding my upcoming plans for the remainder of the summer and time leading up to race day will ensue shortly.
I decided my run the next morning would start at 8 instead.
Still a bad idea.
How early DO I have to get up?
Since then, I've been getting up at 6:30 to hit the road. There is something to be said about getting up this early. It is nice to get up and out before most people are awake (of course for the elderly couples who seem to have an overwhelming presence in my neighborhood.) These runs are cooler and have allowed for better workouts. However, there is also something to be said about AFTER the run. While I enjoy the early start, I usually stretch down, shower, drink some water, and head back to bed for a few more hours before my actual day begins. Oh the things that are done to make for a cooler workout.
A post regarding my upcoming plans for the remainder of the summer and time leading up to race day will ensue shortly.
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