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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

Then and Now

This past Wednesday, the 23rd, I moved back to my home town in Cape May for the summer. It has been nearly 3 years since I've been back here for anything more than a week at Christmas or Thanksgiving. Needless to say, it is a big transition. It is nice to come back to your roots, to pull into town and see the familiar places, faces, and to smell the long-missed aroma of the salty sea air. It is times such as now that give me a view of how I have changed, how I have grown, how I matured in my time away from home.

Early Thursday morning I got up to go for a run. While I start and finish nearly all of my runs from my parents' house, I decided to make this run's start/finish line at the western end of the boardwalk. I pulled up to the beach, stepped out, grabbed my running shoes from the back seat, climbed the sea wall, took a seat on one of countless benches that border the sea shore, and laced up for the first run of my summer at home.

It has been nearly 5 years since the last time I ran this route. woah.

The last time I ran this route was during my senior year of high school's cross country season. At that time, I had planned on going to school on a running scholarship. I already had offers from a number of schools but had yet to decide which one I would accept. By the end of the school year, with my not-knowing what I wanted to do with my life I decided not to begin college right away. I took a year off.

Spending that year away from the classroom was both foundational and life-shaping for my years to come. It was at this time that I took a year to run strictly for myself. I had no particular rivals that I had to compete against. I lived in the midwest and worked at a running store. It was fantastic. I ran about 70 miles per week and worked a full-time job that was entirely devoted to the sport which I love(d). I began to see running as not only a hobby or a sport that I was successful at in high school. Running was, and is, a lifestyle; part of who I am.

As that year came to a close, I decided to go into medicine and have spent the past four years at The Ohio State University in Columbus, Ohio. During these years, as has been mentioned in previous posts, running has been some what of an anecdote to the stresses of my undergraduate career. With only 2 classes to take this coming fall fall and graduation fast approaching in December, I count myself as practically graduated from undergrad.

So here I am, half a decade later, back at the starting line of the high point of my competitive running career in high school. But this time my run didn't start with the butter flies of toeing the line, the shouts of spectators, the nervous shaking of hands with your opponents, the occasional 'good luck", or that godforsaken sound of a starter gun (I always hated those). Instead, the intensity of then has been replaced with vacationers leisurely pedaling by on their beach cruisers and couples sitting on benches with the morning paper and cups of coffee.

That was then, this is now.

As my own imaginary gun went off in my head, I took my first steps of what would be maybe one of the more nostalgic runs of the past 5 years. My legs took me passed the lifeguard headquarters (which has a drinking fountain that has saved me on many occasions) and then to the smell of the local pancake house, and soon onto the boards in front of convention hall. These are all landmarks of the town I'm from, of the area where the runner inside me was born.

It began to hit me how much I and my running have changed since my earlier years. I am much more relaxed now. The harder parts of running: the setbacks, injuries and defeats used to truly rock me. I now understand, from experience, that they are merely part of the runner's cycle. This is all the more true in life. Life, like running, does not always (if ever) go according to plan.

In contrast to the disappointment mentioned in past paragraphs and posts, my post-high school running career has also included some of my greatest accomplishments in running thus far. I've run the prestigious Boston Marathon, I've taken 5th place in the Columbus Marathon, and have set personal records (PR) in both 10-miler events and the marathon.

Another aspect of running which has become so apparent to me is that, honestly, running is one of my best friends. Friends come and go, relationships are built and shattered, seasons begin and end, loved ones live and pass on.

But running; no matter how long I've had to put it aside at times, is always waiting for me when I get back. It's always ready to teach me about life; the value of persistence, setting goals, and taking time out of the day to enjoy the day for what it is, your life. Of which you only get one.


During my life as a runner, I have often questioned if I'd ever run again. But it's runs like these, runs that place you on a mountain top allowing you to look back and see how far you've come, that make me realize I will always run again. You can take many things away from a person, but you can't take away who they are. That is only given away. Given up. It's a choice. I am a runner. I will always be a runner.

The infamous mile repeat.

Distance: 7 miles

miles 1,3,5,7: 6:30 pace
miles 2,4,6: 4:55 pace

Total workout time: 40:40



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I've been exceptionally busy with a roommate's wedding and with packing up and moving out of my apartment the past few days. Hence the lack of posts.

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This workout is from a few days ago. It originally was going to be an easy 7-miler with no special agenda. However, after the first mile I was feeling so good that I decided to turn it into one of most intense workouts of my training regime. While some running models call for mile repeats to be a mile on the track following by about a minute of recovery time before starting the next mile. My mile repeats are a bit of my own rendition. But they do the trick for me.

As the first mile came to a close, it was time to increase my pace to an intensity of 8/9 for the next mile, giving me a mile split of 4:50. Mile 3 was a recovery mile. That is, it's used as a chance to slow your pace, catch your breath, and get ready for the next mile; where you then repeat your previous mile's intensity.

Hence the term 'mile repeat.'

As explanation for the 'infamous' part of this entry's title, a mile repeat workout can be summed up in a few words. Pushing the limits. Intense. Painful.

After mile 3 was behind me, it was time to kick in the afterburners again. Another 4:50 split.

But even during mile intervals, it is crucial to remember that a mile is not just a quick 100 yards, but 5280 feet. It's not a quick sprint, you need to pace yourself during what is still a relatively short distance in comparison to the 26.2 miles awaiting you on race day. If you start your mile too strong, you won't finish it with the intensity you planned.

What's fun (or maybe more 'entertaining' than anything) about the mile repeat is the look on people's faces when you pass by them. As I come down to the final quarter mile of miles 2,4 and 6, my legs are burning, my lungs are ready to give out and my face emanates sheer agony. While I consider this to be 'a good time', most people wonder "why do you do this to yourself?" This was definitely the case at the end of mile 4. I crossed my transitional finish line from hard to easy running and gave out a loud gasp for air... only to realize there's a 50-something year old woman coming around the corner of the trail. She's giving me a horrified look while hoping she isn't witnessing someone having a heart attack. But after a forced smile and slight raising of my right hand, I trot onward and leave her with a mixed sense of relief and "what the heck just happened?"

So after another cycle of this, I'm back home and cooling down after an intense workout. What a better way to start the day's activities. Which involved my best friend's wedding. An epic workout for an epic day.