Bill at Boston 1997 - mile 24

Mike & Bill Aronson, CIM 2007

Monday, December 5, 2011

Post-CIM Thoughts

I was hoping to sit down after CIM and write how I’d just run something like 79:00+77:30 for a 2:36. Or some variation of that for a 2:37, 2:38, or 2:39. And how perfect my training had been to get me there. And how I’d finally mastered the marathon. Well, having just run 79:15+80:47=2:40:02, I’ll write this instead:

I’ve always struggled with the marathon, compared to other distances. Maybe my mix of fast and slow twitch muscles isn’t quite right for it. I seem to do pretty well in 12k’s, 15k’s and halfs, which have often predicted faster marathon times than I’ve finished. But marathons aren’t run on paper or in an internet pace calculator. All that matters once you’re out there is, well, what you can do once you’re out there.
In my first one (San Francisco ’93, age 21), I raced from the start just like I was used to doing for a 10k or a half. 6:00 was an easy pace, and after all, all I needed was 6:05s to break 2:40 (my ‘B’ goal in that race, ‘A’ goal being a sub-6 avg). At 16 I felt great and said to Maria Trujillo (one of the fastest women marathoners in CA at the time), who I’d been running with to that point, “We’re doing awesome, only 10 miles to go.” She didn’t say anything, but just looked over at me with a irratated look on her face like ‘What an idiot.’ About 3 miles later, I hit a major wall, she pulled WAY away (and won it in 2:38 or so I believe), and I slowed from my high-5’s to high 6’s then eventually to something like 7:32 as I finished in 2:47-high off a sub-6:00 pace through 18 miles. A harsh welcome to the marathon. And a sign of future struggles.
Maybe I’m too thin, and just can’t train my body to burn enough fat. But wait, the best runners in the world have just as little body fat, if not less, so that can’t be it. Maybe my training hasn’t been optimal or marathon-specific enough. Often true, but I really tried to correct that this time with a super-base (55-70mpw for 22 wks) followed by an intensive 18-week Pfitzinger program (70-85mpw). Maybe guys like Dan Sheil and Tim Knox are right in running 100+ mpw in marathon build-ups instead. Maybe even higher mileage would boost my race day endurance at the faster speeds. Brian Sell did that. Pretty sure you won’t see me going 130-160mpw, though =).
Or maybe I don’t have enough years of good marathon-level base mileage, even with all my years of general running base (this is the first year, really ever, that I’ve taken marathon base training super seriously). I have no problem covering the distance evenly or better when at a slightly slower speed (i.e. 6:25 pace for a recent 25.5 mile training run with negative splits toward the end), but running down close to 6:00s for that long seems to accumulate just enough lactate so that I’ve still never, in 26 marathons, run even or negative splits during one I was truly racing. I really believed CIM 2011 was going to be different, but in the end it wasn’t. My 2nd half was 92 seconds slower than my first. I burned through at least 75 seconds during the final 10k that I didn’t expect to. Of course most of us have blown up WAY beyond that, sometimes 75 seconds or more per mile toward the end. But again, this time was supposed to be different. It is so disappointing that the final 2 miles were so slow despite how hard I was trying for them not to be. I just could not hang onto anything near race pace at that point.
Then again, I saw an interview with Brian Sell right after Boston 2009 where he’d just tanked and finished in 2:16, way back. He said his prep and workouts were very similar to 2006 where he’d run phenomenal to finish 4th, and just didn’t know what happened. Of course the headwind there didn’t help in 2009. Everyone has their days. Great, good, bad. Sometimes there are no answers. I thought I was having a phenomenal day at CIM, and really felt that way through 12, even through 15, before it got too hard way too soon, around 30k. If only my quads had survived even a couple more miles before giving up.
I told a few people I wanted to be sure to be over 79:00 at the half, so was pleased when I went through in 79:15 and thought, oh man, this is so perfect. My training got me here. I’m just floating at 6:00 pace, feeling good. My plan to improve my half speed the first part of this year worked out, getting me to near 75-flat by July. I need that speed to break 2:40, I figured. And that 6:lows would feel so easy compared with 5:40/5:45 pace I’d run for 15k to half races all year long.
I heard someone say earlier this year: “It’s one thing to have the will to run a good marathon, but it’s a whole nother thing to have the will to put in the training to run a good marathon.” I read another quote along the lines of: “I’ve run good marathons on poor training and poor marathons on good training, but I can guarantee that I’ll never run a great marathon on anything but great training.”
I’ll admit I’m a slow learner (including a stretch starting with Boston '97 doing 10 marathons in 18 months with similar training and similar results as I chased 2:3x and never got there), but I realized late last year that a number of things would need to change to race a great marathon. At my age, injury history, and past challenges at the distance, it would take great training, getting to the starting line healthy, and everything coming together to get south of 2:40. Last December as I ran the Holiday Half along Willamette Blvd and was fading to 6:20s into a stiff headwind by the end, having not done a run longer than 8 miles in several months, and finishing in 80-low, I thought ‘What are my chances of ever running this pace again for a full?’. A realistic answer at that point seemed about 15%, a pretty long shot. So late last year I decided 2011 would be the year I stop slacking, work extremely hard, and see what I can really do. Afterall, I’d be turning freakin’ 40 in Nov. So I bought a book on training, first one ever. And then worked. And worked. And worked. 2422 miles in 243 consecutive days. 60 mile weeks. Then 70s. Then 80s. 85s. 97 in 7 days once. Long runs, tempo runs, races, VO2 max workouts, marathon pace runs, track workouts. I was determined to be a living, breathing Pfitzinger product, the guy who at the end of the race epitomizes the well-prepared marathoner from this quote in his book Advanced Marathoning: [regarding 20 to F]: “This is the part of the race that poorly prepared marathoners dread, and well prepared marathoners relish.” I would be the guy who relishes the final 10-12k; it would be super-hard but still fast, with no fade, maybe even a slight pickup. By mid-November, nearly a year later, I was putting my sub-2:40 chances at 85% which, in my mind, had climbed steadily throughout the year from the 15% chance I originally gave myself.
In 2011, I sacrificed some productivity at work. I went to bed by 9:00 most nights. Trained every morning. Up at 4:00am for Wed AM 15-milers, by 5:15 most other days. Trained in the heat. The rain. Wind. Through creatine withdrawals. When sick. When tired. When sore. Through achilles, hamstring, groin, and other pains. On the track. With younger guys. When unmotivated. After work when the schedule called for it, as much as I hate running end of day anymore. I did ALL the workouts. Didn’t always hit the Pfitzinger recommend paces, but still did ALL the workouts.
Did I overtrain this year by nearly doubling my mileage from what I’d done the last two years? Did I overdo it on shorter races? Did I go too hard on those final 2 long runs, 23 miles three weeks out and 17 two weeks out? Was my taper too steep? Not steep enough? Too long? Too short? Did I eat the wrong foods leading up to race day? Should I have done more on gradual downhill to simulate the course? Did I eat enough for dinner? Breakfast? Did that final night's lack of sleep affect my muscles? Should I have worn trainers not racers?
The questions of course are are endless, and no one really has any answers better than guessing, but if I went back in time and had a chance to prep for CIM 2011 again, I wouldn’t change a single thing (well, maybe I’d cut out Klock XC =) and the creatine experiment, but that’s about it). I had what I had on race day, and it wasn’t quite enough. The weather, my groin, my calves, my stomach, my core, my shoes, my mind, they all not only cooperated, they were perfect. But my quads weren’t, and the extent to which really surprised me. I really don’t know why. It happens. As anal and obsessive as I trend, I’m saying a big “Oh, well” and moving on. It feels great to have this race over with, and is a HUGE weight off my shoulders. I don’t think I’ve ever put as much pressure on myself with such long lead-time for a single performance in the 30 years I’ve been doing this, yet I dealt with my own expectations & demons pretty well (although I wish I could have slept better Sat night). I honestly don’t know how top athletes handle the pressure, the prize money, the expectations, the Olympics, the media, and all the rest of it. Well, I guess some of them do so better than others. They need not only the physical abilities, but nerves of steel. Which blows my mind. It was super-awesome to hear someone screaming around mile 23 “Don’t think, just run.” So pure, so honest, so raw. Just run. You’re almost there. That’s what it’s all about. Especially by mile 23 =).
Time to rest, regroup, refocus, and come up with a raceplan for Houston which, to be completely honest, is really TBD depending on how my recovery & training goes. It’s only 6 weeks out, and the last time my quads felt like this (Boston 2009, same year Sell tanked), it took the better part of 3 weeks for the soreness to go completely away, but then I ran reasonably well at Newport, which was 3 weeks after that (6 wks total between marathons). Hoping for 2 weeks until full muscle recovery this time, and will be looking for some remedies to speed that along.
Thanks for reading. Comments welcome.

CIM 2011 - Race Report

12/4/2011. My 26th marathon. Perfect weather conditions (low-40s, clear and dry, maybe a slight tailwind for part of the race but mostly calm), awesome field. Well organized & well measured. The people who put on this event are exceptional and deserve much kudos. This isn’t a good marathon, it’s a GREAT marathon. The West coast standard, for sure.
On the plus side:
* made it to the starting line healthy
* PR by 0:43 (previous- 2:40:45 Boston ’97)
* 4:14 faster than last marathon (2:44:16 Eugene ‘10)
* 5th in age group (40-44) & 6th place master’s (yes, a 55-y.o. ran 2:36!)
* no stops during the race, porta potty or otherwise
* top finisher over 2:40:00 =)
* held it together mentally
* top 100 overall (92nd)
On the minus side:
* at least 0:03 slower than goal time
* inexplicably, body didn’t cooperate in the final miles
* burned WAY too much muscle, which means a slower recovery which could affect Houston prep
* no idea what went wrong
* bittersweet performance given my higher self-expectations
Splits: (taken manually exactly at each course mile marker)
6:14=06:14
6:01=12:15
6:07=18:22
6:00=24:22
6:08=30:30 (5)
6:02=36:32
6:01=42:33
6:00=48:33
6:04=54:37
6:00=60:37 (10)
6:04=66:41
6:04=72:45
5:56=78:41
5:58=84:39
6:04=90:43 (15)
6:00=96:43
5:59=1:42:42
6:03=1:48:45
6:03=1:54:48
6:07=2:00:55 (20)
6:10=2:07:05
6:11=2:13:16
6:17=2:19:33
6:16=2:25:49
6:22=2:32:11 (25)
6:26=2:38:37
1:25=2:40:02 (6:06.2 avg pace)


Halfs:  79:15 (6:02.7) + 80:47 (6:09.7)

5-mile splits: 30:30, 30:07, 30:06, 30:12, 31:16 (ouch)
BEFORE
Fly into SMF arriving 1:00pm Saturday, city Yolobus to convention center, only $2, woohoo. Expo, pickup packet, check chip, walk past booths, nothing special just like every expo, leave after 15 minutes. Walk 3/4 mile to hotel, Vagabond Inn Executive (Tim Swietlik will tell you how comfortable the beds are here). Lie on bed with both feet up, really worried about persistent tight calves. Wonder if that recent strong West/Northwest wind will finally really be calm or slight East as forecast. TV & iPod. Dinner at River City Grill (salad, bread, chicken parmesan & pasta), just a couple blocks from the hotel in an outdoor shopping center. Order more bread to go, adding to the breakfast stuff I’d already planned. Take magnesium (natural sleep assistance) & L-Glutamine, try to sleep at 8:30pm, it’s not working, toss & turn for the better part of 7 hrs, maybe slept a couple. Out of bed at 3:45. Green tea, chinese “energy blend” granules, sausage patty, bread, banana, bathroom x 2, stretch, use “the stick” all over legs, bundle up, leave at 4:50 and walk a block to Holiday Inn for bus pickup. Feeling really relaxed and awesome, I know today will be my day. Long schoolbus ride, i-pod just like the guy next to me, the bus is full of lively conversation except for us two. Increase the volume to drown out the chatter. Heard shuffled tracks by Indigo Girls, Garbage, Creed, U2, Tori Amos, Midnight Oil, Fuel, blink-182, Sarah McLachlan, Smashing Pumpkins, The Cult, Eve 6, Rage Against the Machine, etc. When I hear “This time the bullet cold rocked ya, yellow ribbon instead of a swastika. Nothing proper ‘bout your propaganda…” by Rage, I think ‘Damn, this album came out freakin’ 20 years ago, and we’re still in fucking Iraq.’ Which reminds me of my first CIM back then, 18 years ago in 1993, age 22, 2nd marathon ever. Major wall, 2:43:20 after having hit 21 @ 2:06:00. 37:20 for 5.2=Ouch. That won’t happen today, I reassure myself. I think about other politically charged songs like “American Idiot” by Green Day, but my mind won’t stay there long as it expectedly drifts right back to ‘It’s just 6:00s to 6:05s. Nothing but a long tempo run. Nothing but a long tempo run.’ Off the bus, walk around. Jog. Bathroom. Stretch. Jog some more. Can’t remember ever seeing more people warming up for a marathon. This crowd is serious. The faster women look like they’re out for blood. Good. Me too – gonna redeem & make it count this time. Bathroom again. Strip down. Should I wear my hat? Yes (good decision, as the cold continued for awhile). Cram everything else into a plastic bag & tie it tight. Scramble to find the appropriate sweats truck. Tie shoes & secure chip. One hand on a square carboard trashcan & stretch both slightly tight quads as I hear the star spangled banner. Weave through aways and line up 6-8 rows back, don’t want to start too fast. Countdown, gun & we’re moving.
DURING
First third of a mile and I’m right next to the 2:46 pace group. (How cool is it that they had an elite-purpose-specific pace group this year? Seems to have worked, looking at the long string of women finishing from 2:43 to 2:45. 29 under 2:46:00. I wonder how many of them are Americans and first-time trials qualifiers. Probably a good chunk. Pretty cool.) My Garmin pace says 6:20, so I pick it up a bit. Mile 1 in 6:14, perfect since I definitely wanted to err on the side of conservative the first few miles. The pace is strong but comfortable and I settle into low 6:00s after that. I run from 4 to 9 or so behind a couple young guys, who are chatting with one guy and then another he hands off to from a relay team pacing alongside them who seem to be mostly doing the relay for fun (or maybe a legal way to get some pacing from their buddies). They congratulate one of the relayers on a recent 16:40, which I presume is a 5k, sounds like XC. Good runners. The two running the full tell me it’s their first time and ask my goal to which I immediately respond “sub-2:40”. They don’t mention a time but that they want to be conservative because of the unknown. That’s smart I say – they should run even splits, thinking how zen of me and that I will be the master of even or negative splits today. They drop it to 5:55s or better, I let them go, and they have quite a gap by halfway. I wonder if I’ll see them again. I won’t. Congrats to those two, whoever they were, for running strong their first time out the gate.
I take my first GU along with a pair of ibuprofen at 9. I’d decided to carry them due to strange calf soreness the last couple taper weeks that never completely went away. Calves still feel ever-so-slightly tight despite a heavy lathering of Biofreeze but not too bad, but I decide to err on the side of caution and take the NSAIDs just in case, figuring they should last 1.5 hrs no problem and could serve a general anti-inflammatory purpose when the going gets tougher. Around mile 10, finally the sun on the road provides some much-welcomed warmth and I think that I might later write something completely cheeseball like: ‘As the sun warmed the day, it ignited the fire in my soul and under my feet as I went on to finish the race of my life,’ or some such non-sense.
Around the same time, my left foot starts to get that feeling that the laces are too tight (Nike Lunaracer1), although I swear I didn’t overtighten. No way I’m stopping unless it gets really bad, I can’t afford to lose any unnecessary time out here. The strain on those top of foot tendons has happened before, and the pain is bearable so I continue on, think about other things, and get used to it. It reminds me of something Bret Kimple said to me: “The thing about the marathon is that things can go so ugly, so early, and you’ve still got a long way to go.” This does not fall in the 'so ugly' category, I tell myself, ignoring the now moderate & persistent pain. After a few more miles, I don't even notice it again the rest of the race.
From 9 to 12 I slowly gain on a pack of 6 or so and decide to run just a tad quicker through half to pickup a good split there. I become the pack leader as we cross the halfway mats in 79-low and continue to lead it through 14 with a second sub-6:00 (check out the results to see how others with half splits in the 79:11-79:20 range fared. Looks like 3 of 8 finished strong, and the other 5, including me, faded, as I finished 4 of 8 out of that halfway pack. But it was a great pack to be in until it broke up around 17.5). About 4 times in 6 miles we see enthusiastic supporters of a guy named “Lucas” cheering him on. About the 3rd time we see his posse, someone in the pack asks “So who’s Lucas?” and a tall dude raises his hand. “Popular guy” I say, and several of us have a 3-second laugh.
Past 16 and it’s starting to feel not-so-easy. Hmmm. No panic, I just pull out my 2nd GU and finish it by the mile 17 aid station. This is my favorite part of the course: wide, even pavement, thousands of trees in brilliant fall color lining Fair Oaks Blvd. The section where, the last 2 times I ran here, in ’07 and ’08, I started a long and persistent drive to the finish resulting in negative splits (but wasn’t racing either time, so had plenty left in the tank). As I pass 18 and approach 30k, which in my mind is the halfway point of any marathon, I feel almost exactly the opposite I’d envisioned. I’d visualized really winding it up and then unleashing 6:00s and better from 30k in, but instead I’m sensing either A) a bad patch, or B) the beginning of the end. To add to this feeling, a few guys from my pack, which has now strung out not only single file but is well splintered, seem to be realizing MY dream as they start to disappear into the distance. Why am I not able to start dropping the 5:50s and 5:55s I’d hoped for? That’s ok, though, let them go. I’m still (reasonably) comfortable at 6:0x’s. Race plan still intact.
Now nearly to 19 and my quads are both getting real sore real quick. That’s ok, I tell myself, even just maintain that 6:05 tempo and I’ve still got plenty of time. But that psychology works for less than 10 more minutes, and as I reach the mats at 20 with a not-so-easy 6:07 and just under 2:01 total, a 39 flat 10k starts to sound not-so-easy, a distance I’d already just run 3-in-a-row of at a “moderate/tempo” pace around mid-37s. I try some math, but never quite finish it. If 6:26s is 40-flat, then 39-flat is… well, under 6:20s at least. Don’t even think about using ALL that time. You don’t want to cut it so close. That wasn’t the plan. Go for 6:05-6:15s. Hold it together. Yes, it feels like you’re crawling when this starts to happen, but you’re not, it’s just a sensation. I know this from experience. But still, crap. It’s gonna hurt. BIG TIME hurt. I catch back up to Lucas, who has become a casualty of the “accelerations” at the front end of our former pack (actually, the few guys who pulled away just kept running even, didn’t really speed up, it just felt like they had because some of us started going slightly backwards- funny how that happens). I use his pace for a half mile then go by him and a woman who was well ahead of us and has completely exploded. I’m taking any tangent I can find, running in the gutter when possible where the road curves. I feel ok up the little bridge, which I think is at 21.5 but can never remember for some reason. Not feeling so good down it, super-ouch on the quads as I wonder if they might give out completely, sending me to the pavement. I keep drinking Ultima every mile, hoping somehow the electrolytes will give a boost, but I know it’s too late. Starting to be in a daze, everything is slowing down and becoming sorta surreal, like the dramatic point in a movie where it goes to slow-mo and the star doesn’t see or hear anything other than what they’re intently focused on. Somehow I miss the final GU handout I’d been planning on. That’s ok, I think, because experience tells me that if I think I need 4 GUs in a 2.5 hr period (I also ate one on the starting line), that 4th one won’t do a damn thing for me. I know it's just mind vs. body the rest of the way anyway. There's no such thing as a magic boost or second wind once this feeling begins. I know this all too well.

Mile 23 in 6:17. Lord. 2:19:33. I’d been telling myself the week pre-race that a 2:20-flat here would be key to going sub-2:40, but had also thought about how different a 2:20 with 3.2 to go would feel if I was feeling good vs. feeling cooked, and how I would deal with that mentally. Well, I wasn’t just cooked, I was overcooked. I wasn't just well done, but completely burnt, inedible. I was that burger left on the grill for 4 hrs and discovered at the end of the party. My legs were oh so torched. Completely rubberized. Dead meat without a bit of spring left, the muscles sustaining more and more damage with each step. I was no longer burning fat, glycogen, or anything you’re supposed to in those final miles. I had resorted to fueling my dream race with 100% muscle. That wasn’t the plan. Triple ouch. Quadruple ouch. Anyone who’s experienced this knows the feeling I’m trying to convey. Honestly, it's indescribable.
Pick it up, then sonofabitch, muscle limitations slow it back down. Pick it up again. Repeat every 30 seconds, like a fartlek. Less than 20 minutes to go. I can do this. It’s mine to lose. I’ve worked so hard. 4:30am tempo runs in the pouring rain. Amazing long runs. XC races. 4 1/2 legs at Hood To Coast. Speedwork. Not just runs, real workouts. I deserve it, dammit. Focus. Keep the legs moving, it doesn’t matter how far your feet come off the ground. There are no points for style. Pass more people than pass you. Mile 24 in 6:16. Hurts like a mother but good split, only 2 to go. Head still in it. Final major turns. Downtown now. Marked parking spots and meters. More spectators. Holding signs and placards. Where’s the next one? There. 25. This had better be 2:31:high. 2:32:11. Holy hell, that was a 6:22. God, I’m just bleeding time here. If my race was televised TDF-style, Phil Liggett & Paul Sherwen would be saying, “Oh, now look at this, Aronson has cracked. He’s moving backwards on the road. Yes, it certainly doesn’t look like he’ll be able to recover from this. He seems to be working hard, but I can tell you, this guy is no Jens Voight.” One more mile, gotta make it faster than that. Getting passed by 2 guys in a half mile, not a good sign, and I know they’re not exactly negative splitting it because I had passed them a couple miles earlier. Crossing 16th, is the turn on 8th, 9th? Doesn’t matter, it’s less than 5 minutes from here, ALL that matters is the clock. Go as hard as possible. Where’s 26? Where’s 26? Ok, closing in on it. But was that a 6:26 (pace showing on Garmin)?! Lord. Head still in it. I’ve got this. I’ve got this. Sprint it in. Legs won’t respond. A few stumbly, uneven strides and then have to shorten them again to avoid falling. 2 more turns. Clock before the final turn 2:39:38. Arghh, maybe I don't got this. Keep pushing, dammit. As tight a line as possible around the last corner, nearly stepping on the metal barricade stabilizing feet. I use everything (which by now is, of course, nothing) I have left to will myself across the line, but it can hardly be called a kick. I see 2:40:04 as I approach but I know it’ll be a few more seconds; the last time I see on a clock is usually from a bit out, not when I’m right under or beside it.

I stop my watch 4 strides past the line in 2:40:04, and I KNOW as soon as I look down that I didn’t make it, that I’m just BARELY on the fat side of 2:40. Crap! Having started my watch right on the starting mat and within a couple seconds past the finish mat, instinct tells me it it’ll be in the 2:40:00-2:40:03 range. Of course I’m hopeful for some chip miracle, but am pretty sure that’s not gonna happen, and the results later confirm that to my horror: 2:40:02. Holy crap. I was ‘that’ guy. You know, the guy (or gal) who doesn’t quite make it, who comes in right AFTER the announcer does the exciting countdown to a symbolic time like 2:40 or 3:00, heartily congratulating those who barely make it and then going eerily silent as others filter in. Although I suppose that’s better than him saying, “Oh, so close, all of you. Better luck next time, guys!”

But you know what. I’m 40 freakin’ years old, been running for 30 years, have completed 26 marathons and just ran a PR over 14 years after my previous PR, in a finish time I had long ago written off as never being able to touch again. So regardless of what the future holds or whether I ever break 2:40, I’ll always know I laid it ALL out at CIM 2011. If I could have run 3 seconds faster, I would have. But I couldn’t. I tried. And tried. Never gave up. Never stopped pushing. It took every ounce of physical and mental capability I had to cover 26.22 miles in 2:40:02. And because of that, I’m pleased with my race, even if less-than-estatic about my time. Had I thrown in the towel it could’ve been 2+ more minutes, easily. Easily. I saw people doing that out there. They couldn’t have been any more cooked than me, but at some point just said, “It’s not worth it.” Mental toughness can get you through, even when your body screams “No More!”.

AFTER
Met up with my dad at the finish; he was out from Colorado to help with my grandmother (now 97) down in Stockton. Photo, sweats bag, pancakes & food for later (can’t ever eat right after). Back to hotel for shower, check race results & print boarding pass from shared computers, then to Stockton to see Gram for awhile, and check out the new board & care place she’ll be moving into this week. Realize that it is a gift to have the mobility I do (she’s currently bed ridden with a pelvic fracture), and although I’d said my A, B, C, and D goals were all to break 2:40, it is always a sense of accomplishment to finish and to give it your all. I guess that would be E) None of the Above. Back to the Sacramento airport by 4:45 for a 5:50 flight. Finally super hungry after just snacking all day. 2 burritos + chips from the Coyote CafĂ© for only $11, finished it all. Uneventful flight home.

Internet race results. Envious of locals like Chris Stelzer (76:18+75:03=2:31:21) and Rocky Wing (75:09+77:45=2:32:54), and of guys in my mile 12 to 17 pack who went on to finish in 2:38 and 2:39. Good for them, but that was supposed to be me too. In fact, had it been, I would've had some great guys to work with those last few miles. I wonder if they trained harder, smarter, had better days, inherently better genetics, or what. Perhaps just luck of the draw. Whatever. Too tired. Bedtime. Slept really well.

Thanks for reading. Comments welcome.

Monday, November 28, 2011

Garmin 305 - 3 years and counting

In Nov 2008 in honor of my birthday, my wife and I bought a Garmin 305 during the infamous $180 Costco on-line sale. My first run with it was 11/29/08, 6.02 miles at 7:10 am. 39:37/6:35 pace. So today marks the end of my 3rd year running with this thing, and I absolutely love it. I've rarely missed using it during the 3 years. It has helped me go appropriate paces for races, track workouts, long runs, recovery runs, lactate threshold workouts, marathon pace runs, and all those runs that you don't really put a label on - just runs. I wore it today for an easy 6.03 miles at 7:25 am. 41:02/6:49 pace.

A week after purchase, I wore it at CIM, where I was pacing two buddies. We all learned a lesson from looking at "average pace" on a race course, instead of looking at elapsed time and dividing by the "real" distance we'd covered on the road according to the mile markers. Our Garmins all showed a faster pace than the course was telling us with just a handful of miles to go. Luckily we all ran strong to the finish and my pacees both achieved their sub-3 time goal, a first for both of them.

If I click on the root level in the Garmin Training Center on my PC, it shows the following "since inception" totals:

6958.16 miles
781:24:38
6:44 per mile

Awhile back I went thorugh and cleaned out all my wife's runs & walks, as well as hikes & walks we did together, since they had hurt the average pace a bit. So 6:44s seems about right, looking through my week-by-week average paces. 7:15 is a super slow pace that I rarely do, and most of my easy runs during those years have been in the 6:55-7:00 range. 6:30-6:40 tends to be an honest but gentle tempo, while 6:25 and better requires more effort.

My fastest week was 6:19/mi in Aug 2009, a 26 mile week that included 17+ miles of Hood To Coast legs.

My slowest week was 7:55/mi in June 2009, 30.5 mile week that included an 8 mile trail run from Seaside toward Cannon Beach & back (at 11:28 pace). It was a hilly & technical trail, but I still believe the 305 undermeasured the distance that day.

My longest hours in a week was 10:07:14, a 90-mile week in Oct. 2011 at 6:45/mi. That was also my biggest mileage week. My lowest mileage week was, well, 0.0, and there are several weeks that tie for that honor.

There were a number of weeks where I averaged about 6:30, often when they included a race like a half marathon to bring the pace down. But my longest/fastest non-race week combo was in late-July 2011, covering 67.0 in 7:14 for a 6:29 pace. The week included a 10-mile tempo at 5:58s and a 21-mile long run at 6:30s, and several 5-8 milers around 6:30. I remember thinking after that week, "That was a bit quick; I need to do my recovery runs slower if I'm going to survive this training cycle." I'm amazed what a difference slowing from 6:30 to 6:45 means for my recovery.

Because of a big mileage increase in 2011, the 2319.39 per year average is not spread at all equally over the 3. Calendar 2009 was 2098, and Calendar 2010 was just 1632. Last week, I passed 3000 for Calendar 2011, and may be heading to 3300 or so, which will be my biggest calendar year ever by over 600 miles (previous best 2646 back in 1990).

It's hard to believe I've run for over 781 hours wearing this thing. Amazingly, the battery seems to be lasting just as long as the day I got it. Truly an amazing device.

Friday, November 25, 2011

If the furnace is hot enough, will it burn anything?

I once heard this great quote attributed to a great marathoner, Bill Rodgers. When asked about diet and nutrition, he said something like: No, he and his training partners didn't pay much attention to what they ate, they just ate about everything in sight. Because "if the furnace is hot enough, it will burn anything." Be that as it may, I've come to think the past couple years that diet does matter. If you're like Bill Rodgers (or me), yes your body's high-metabolic furnace may burn everything you ingest, resulting in zero weight gain and presumably fuel for your activities. But how does the quality of those foods affect your performance? How does it affect your energy? How does it affect your digestion? Well, here's my story:

Growing up, it’s fair to say I knew very little about nutrition. Our family shopped at the typical grocery stores, think Safeway or Albertson’s. White bread, wheat bread, margarine, canned goods, soups, meats, boxes of cereal, gallons of milk, sugar, vegetables (fresh and frozen), soda, juice boxes, crackers, peanut butter, jam/jelly, etc, etc. Just normal foods, the same things everyone else I knew ate. I was completely unaware of terms like “health food”, “co-op”, “organically grown”, “GMO”, “Omega-6”, “Omega 3”, etc. Price was a concern. We shopped for value. Back then, 25-35 years ago, I remember maybe $100 or less feeding a family of 6 for a couple weeks. I just thought cheaper meant better value. I felt fine, and there was no indication that these mass-produced, highly-processed, non-locally sourced and generally low-quality foods were adversely affecting my health.

I ate the same way through high school, college, and for most of the years leading up to present day. I was greatly influenced by a book called “Diet for a New America” toward the end of college and decided to become a vegan. Looking back, I was probably a fairly unhealthy vegan, however, just continuing my cheap food eating habits for many years, despite occasionally shopping at a co-op or other health food stores. Most of that food was simply out of my price range, I didn’t understand the difference, and it wasn’t a priority. I was thin, had a high activity level, and a pretty high energy level. I cycled, backpacked, camped, and mostly, ran. And ran. I loved training and competition. Track, roads, cross-country. Long distance, short distance, it all appealed to me at some point. And I was pretty fast. Not national-class, not world-class, but still fast. It was fun and fulfilling to do well in XC & track, local road races, competing in my age group, etc, which I did throughout middle school, high school, college, and beyond. So why change anything with my diet?

Fast forward many, many years. Time does go by. In my late 20s, after 15+ years of mostly pain free running, the injuries began, so age may have finally started catching up. I figured it’s all normal, par for the course. There were various problems are various times, ranging in intensity from “That was a weird pain, glad it went away halfway through the run” to “This hurts so much I’m going to cut this run short. And not run tomorrow. Or maybe not even for the next few months.” Achilles, IT band, fronts of knees, backs of knees, plantar, shins, hamstrings, shoulder/neck, calves, soleus, groin, psoas, and others. A lot of the usual suspects runners are unfortunately all too familiar with. Learn to live with it, right? My best years are behind me, make the most of what I have, I told myself. Can’t handle high-mileage like I ran in college, so I’ll keep it lower and run quality. Food is just fuel. What I fuel myself with might affect my energy and endurance, but it couldn’t possibly affect these structural issues. That was how I thought. Until the last couple years.

The most chronic and non-healing problem hampering my running was an inflamed and increasingly sore left achilles. I had a large bump on the back of my left heel, which got progressively worse from ’96-’98 as I trained and raced a lot, including 10 marathons during an 18 month stretch from April ’97 until Oct ’98 as I continually chased 2:3x and came close but never achieved it (it turned out I wouldn’t run another marathon until Jan ’06). I saw a physiatrist and several podiatrists for it, receiving diagnoses ranging from bursitis to tendonitis to Haglund’s bump (this is the one that stuck). We tried cortisone injections, time off, heel lifts, alternate activities, acupuncture, magnets, physical therapy, at-home strengthening routines, all the stuff you’d expect from sports injury pros. But none of these folks asked about my diet. Clearly, we all thought, this was just an overuse injury, a structural problem caused by too high volume, poor biomechanics, bad genetics, or all of the above. But is that the whole story?

I finally opted for surgery on it in Dec ’04, a relatively easy procedure (but I’m still glad I opted for the general, not local, anesthetic!) where the podiatrist made an incision, moved the achilles tendon out of the way, and shaved down the large bump underneath, removing the extra bone which was causing friction against the tendon. Say what you want about Kaiser (and believe me, I often do!), but they get a big thumbs up from me for how smoothly, and ultimately effectively, this surgery went. During ~6 weeks, I went from being horizontal, to crutches, to the walking boot, then an aircast, then finally back to putting weight on it. Cycled a bit, then started jogging again in April ’05. Very slowly. And then spent a lot more time on the bike in ’05 than on putting one foot in front of the other.

So what does all this talk of injuries have to do with diet? I’m getting to that, but want to first review what all’s happened since the surgery.

I cycled most of 2005 while recovering, not knowing if running would ever be my thing again. It was great to complete some centuries with friends, even did the Seattle to Portland 1-day ride fairly strong (ate lots of brownies, sandwiches, GU, and thanks to my friend Joe, electrolyte tablets. Ummm, electrolyte tablets). But the itch to run again was there. After all, why had I had that surgery if it didn’t mean a re-attempt at running? How could I resist the possibility of “living the clichĂ©” and defying the odds, After-School-Special style, since my podiatrist had said, “Sure, you’ll probably be able to run again. But you have to be realistic. Marathons will probably be out of the question.” So I did a few races, some base training, worked up to “marathon training” and ran Carlsbad in Jan ’06, finishing in 2:54 after a first half of 84:something, washing down a couple vicodin at 2nd half aid stations to keep the achilles pain at bay (they don’t recommend that, by the way, but it worked. I also took them during HTC. No, I did not have a problem =) ). Clearly I blew up but, as usual, it could have been worse. Having qualified, I signed up for Boston ’06 (yes, this was before every damn anal runner in the country wanted to sign up for Boston in the Fall instead of waiting a few more months).

Then I ran a 5k a couple weeks later, in February. Way too hard, cold weather, something didn’t feel right a couple miles in. Finished and hobbled through a cool down. This wasn’t normal post-race sore. This was “Crap, I must have just pulled or broken something. Really bad.” Was painful moving my foot from the gas to the brake on the drive home. As far as anyone could tell, it was my ischial tuberosity insertion. Not a fracture, but a hot spot avulsion where the tendon meets the bone (I drank that radioactive stuff for them to see that on a bone scan). I used a crutch to get around, as putting weight on that side was excruciating. I concluded I just shouldn’t run for speed anymore. And no more racing flats. I was too fragile for that, I thought. I told myself that too many years of cycling and commuting had taken the spring out of my step, that I should only attempt longer/slower races. Looking back, I wish I’d known what I do now about core strengthening and diet. I did jog Boston that year in a PW (1:41+1:52=3:33), after barely any training and just as the injury was beginning to allow normal running (8 weeks after onset). That was the right side.

I then proceeded to do the exact same thing to the left side in Jan ’07 while racing a half marathon in trainers (note: not a speed race and not wearing flats, so there goes that theory). Very cold temps in the 20s, ran extra hard, major overstride, tight hamstrings, and “snap” with a few miles left (although I can’t pinpoint the exact point it happened, something didn’t feel right somewhere after mile 9). Finished with my best time in many years (76:32), but was unable to train for many weeks after. More crutch time, more time off, more cycling, bailed on Boston ’07 (which I’d entered prior to this occurrence), changed our plane tickets and went to the Yucatan peninsula (at least seeing the ruins was certainly more interesting for my wife than watching all those folks struggling down Boylston St.).

Recovery was about the same from that, and I was able to run a lot of the ’07 ‘season’. But in winter ’08 I laid my bike down cornering on an icy morning and tweaked my right knee. Good job, I was 3 for 3 now on acute winter injuries keeping me from training. Recovery was slow, but therapy on it helped (thanks Dr. Foland!). By Sept that year I was pretty well injury-free. I ran CIM ’07 and ‘08, then Boston ’09, then Newport ’09 because I had a bad day at Boston (2:56). I was thrilled to run < 2:50 at Newport (2:49:30), the first time I’d broken 2:50 since Oct ’98 and only 5 minutes behind my time from Oct ’98. Not bad for 11 years later, I thought. I’d been telling myself that was probably about my limit at my age, injury history, and # of years training/competing (27 at that point). But later that year and even moreso in Spring 2010, that thinking started to change.

At my wife’s insistence, we began eating “cleaner”. At first, I only bothered when it was meals together, and tried to support her on her own health improvement quest, figuring I could still eat whatever cheap food I wanted at other times (and did). The main change in our diets was adding some organic foods – produce, dairy, pasta, oats, and others. I also learned a bit about Omega 3’s (we need more) vs. Omega 6’s (we need less). Interesting, I thought, as I continued buying huge bottles of GMO canola oil (I now assume something’s GMO unless it explicitly says it’s not), thinking ‘I can afford this, it tastes fine, and after all, it’s never adversely affected my health’. We also slightly reduced our sugar intake, but not too drastically. I always told people, “I do fine with sugar; it really doesn’t affect me like it does some other people”. I still wasn’t sold that there could be any link between my nutrition, my training/racing abilities, and structural injuries.

I can credit guys like Tim Knox, Scott Schmittel, Dan Sheil, and others who touted the benefits of running long and doing it consistently toward successful distance racing, especially marathons. While training with them most Saturdays in early 2010, I was inspired to sign up for Eugene, and aimed to go for sub-2:50 (6:30s) again. More training… well, maybe even 2:46 (6:20s). More training… more strategizing… by race day, I was confident to start in the 6:10-6:15 range, and finished in 2:44:16 (6:16s) after having been on 2:42 pace through 21. They said hey, that’s great on 50-60 mpw, but think what you could do with higher mileage. I said my body can’t handle higher mileage.

Throughout 2010, our shopping shifted toward even cleaner eating, more organics, better fats, quality dairy, even some raw dairy and cheeses. I didn’t really feel any different, just poorer. But then at some point I thought ‘Why not go ALL IN with this and see what happens?’ After all, I was starting my 40th year on this earth (turned 39 in Nov. 2010). At some point, I can’t remember exactly when, I cut sugar. Anything with added sugar of any kind on the label was out (and if you read the labels, believe me, it's EVERYWHERE). One of the few things most diets agree on is limiting sugar. No one touts its health benefits (I don’t believe there are any). Although never a particular sugar addict, in my lifetime I’d certainly eaten my share of donuts, pie, bear claws, ice cream, cake, candy bars, brownies, milkshakes, skittles, hot chocolate with whipped cream, soda pop, and of course all the foods with added sugar (the list is endless) that you wouldn't consider sweets. This never concerned me because, remember, I’d rationalized that sugar doesn’t really affect me like it does others. But how would I really know unless I had a sugar-free period of life to use as comparison? Exactly.

Then I cut back on low-quality starches, wheat, flour, and gluten. I was extremely skeptical about this, but began eating rice pasta and some gluten-free breads. I ate less pizza (and I love pizza!). I ate nuts & seeds, including nuts soaked and dehydrated (reduces enzyme inhibitors) rather than roasted or just raw. I ate more salads & spinach (those Spring-Mix-in-the-large-plastic-container folks must be gazillionaires), avocados, and sprouted corn tortillas. Long-grain brown rice, cooked for 2+ hours in water & coconut milk. Lots of bananas. Whole milk plan yogurt. Kefir. Fermented salad dressings. Cultured butter. No more margarines. Lots of items with short ingredient lists. Hemp seed butter. Pumpkin seeds. Half & half. Rice milk. I even bought fresh veggies, cut them up and consumed lightly steamed (overcoming my inertia to prep veggies may well have been the biggest barrier to healthy eating I had to tackle).

At some point I added meats. For years I loved to quote Robbins: “I believe the healthiest diet is a plant-based diet.” I ate fish & dairy & eggs, but told people I probably shouldn’t and that veganism was likely ‘where it’s at’. It’s funny how things that unduly influence you in your youth can carry forward much further than warranted. More recent info I’d gathered from reading or talking with folks, be it Paleo, Atkins, the Weston A. Price folks, local nutritionists, running books or blogs, or my running cronies, suggested otherwise. My naturopath, who herself had once been on the quest for a sub-3:oo, told me that when the most active athletes amongst her clientele insist on no meats, she has to reluctantly delve into the conversation: “Well, how do you feel about protein powders?” I told her I’d started eating turkey & chicken (of course well-raised, naturally, no hormones/antibiotics, from good sources) and she said, “Good. Because you know what? If you want to build muscle, you’ve got to eat muscle.” And so it went. Turkey sausage patties with my eggs for breakfast post run (I believe it’s very important to refuel soon after workouts), chicken in my salads, ground buffalo on occasion. Some others.

A couple months went by, and I started feeling stronger. Was it in my head? I really don’t think so. My weight hadn’t changed, and I was (am) still rail-thin, but I had a sense of my lean muscle becoming tougher, more resilient, less marsh-mallowy. Looking back, I think for all those years on cheap foods and inadequate proteins (many say it’s not gram-per-gram that matters, but the types of proteins you ingest as an athlete), I had evolved into a skinny marshmallow. Thin and fast, but also weak & fragile, injury-prone, not strong like I deserved to be given my activity level. Too much soy had possibly affected my thyroid; I was always cold. I still get cold, but not in the same way. I believe that excessive sugar, processed foods, white flour, soy, and all the rest of it had really poisoned me, piling on an unnecessary disadvantage every time I stepped out the door or onto a starting line. And I didn’t even know it, because I’d always felt “pretty good”.

I added supplements, various at different times. Fish oil. Cod liver oil. Vitamin D3. Creatine (frowned on by my ND, so I stopped, which looking back I think is a good thing). L-Glutamine (I highly recommend this for muscle recovery). B-Complex vitamins. Protein powder made from whey or brown rice. Cacao nibs. Maca powder. Other superfoods. A chinese granules ‘energy mixture’ hot tea from my ND. Green tea. No coffee. I reduced NSAIDS (aka Vitamin I), which, at times, I’d taken 400-800 mg of 2-3x per day just to deal with the pain & inflammation of training. And then eventually I stopped NSAIDS altogether, taking zero for many months even during the highest mileage marathon training weeks. I just wasn’t as inflamed and sore as I’d been during hard training in the past. Not having to take ibuprofen at all was truly unexpected, but happily accepted. I’ll bet my liver thanks me.

During calendar 2011, I gradually increased from 40 mpw, then to 50, then 60, then 70. Sure, my groin hurt here and there. My hips got tight, probably in turn stretching the IT band and causing occasional knee pain. I had hamstring tightness, calf issues, soleus cramps, of course my achilles heel (literally, mind you), and various other aches and pains. But they were just that – aches and pains – not some of my “holy-crap-it’s-getting-worse-the-further-I-go” full-blown-injuries like in the past. Distance running can be a very rewarding – yet equally painful – sport. But it felt different this time (not that there wasn’t pain). I could feel my body getting stronger, and thought of the trite old saying ‘pain is weakness leaving the body’ envisioning these issues were on my way to becoming stronger, not on the way to ceasing to function and involuntary layoffs. And so it went, at 65-70 for a long while, then into the 80s, and finally topping at 90 during my CIM training cycle (including 97.5) in a Sun thru Sat ‘week’ (which, by the way, is NOT a running week; my only acceptable running week is Mon thru Sun, as it has been for some 30 years). Workouts went well, long runs went well, even recovery runs went well. Even on those especially difficult recovery days when I wondered ‘If I can run 6:30s for 24 why on earth is it so hard to trudge 7:15s now for 8?’ Well, that’s why it’s called recovery, so I didn’t worry.

I got fewer blisters & painful calluses. The on-again, off-again zits on the inside of my nose cleared up completely, no topical meds required this time. My muscles recovered quickly from hard runs, and I could go faster day-in-and-day-out until what used to be nearly a tempo was just a no-big-whoop-aerobic pace. My overstride, while still there, wasn’t as bad. Core work I’d added helped me run using my body, not just my legs. Some Mondays on 5-6 mile recovery runs, I wore Vibram 5 Fingers, forcing better & more upright form. I overdressed less often in cold weather. The stomach discomfort, gas, and bathroom stops I’d taken for granted became less common as I ate less bread & pasta & wheat & gluten. I think my tendons, ligaments, even bones became stronger, more resilient. My body felt more balanced.

I started racing in flats again, after swearing them off years ago because my body was too fragile and injury prone. I felt like I was really racing the entire distances, not the old red-line-after-2-miles-then-hang-on-the-rest-of-the-way-for-a-10k approach I’d taken in recent years. I even toed the line at 5k’s, a distance I had sworn off a number of years ago because I simply was no longer ‘fast enough.’ I still can’t believe I’ve actually enjoyed racing 5k’s considering the acute injury I experienced in Feb ’06 during one.

So what does all this amount to? I’ll still never be a super-star. For folks like me, running is by-and-large a personal challenge. So far, I’ve seen recent improvements of only about 82 secs for a 10k (35:45/34:23) and 85 secs for a half (76:32/75:07). But I hope those translate to improving on my 2:40:45 marathon PR (Boston ’97 when I was 25) in one or both of the upcoming marathons I’ve entered, now at age 40 (CIM ‘11 & Houston ‘12). But aside from being able to train and race better, I’ve been more alert, more focused and productive at work (well, maybe not on those days when I’d run for 2 hrs in the AM =) ). I have more energy overall, and feel more balanced. I want to live a long, healthy, active, and productive life. I’d much rather die of old age than some avoidable lifestyle disease.

Everyone has an opinion on diet. They want to sell their books and programs – on weight loss, performance gain, building muscle, optimal energy, blah, blah, blah. Different things work for different people. Studies ‘prove’ all types of theories, but also don’t really. I don’t know if where I’m at right now is optimal, and will continue to try different things. I’m not perfect, and still eat things I love (pizza, hole-in-the-wall burritos, beans in general) and deal with the consequences, if any (they vary). I drink too much beer sometimes. Sugar really doesn’t appeal to me, thankfully, at all anymore (although I did like donuts). I consider it a poison to my body. But I can say with certainty that where I’m at is an improvement over 2 years ago. I’m not anti-grain ala Paleo, anti-carb ala Atkins, anti-meat ala that vegan triathlete guy, or anti-animal products ala Robbins. Certainly not anti-fat. It’s not so much the fat, but rather high sugar and high starch diets that have made our country obese and unhealthy; most folks would actually be much healthier on no sugar, healthy fats, vegetables, and whole grains. But I am anti-processed, anti-GMO, anti-pesticides, anti-hormone, anti-antibiotics, and generally anti-dirty-food. Clean & simple foods are best for us. When I walk into Safeway now, it feels very toxic. When I walk into New Seasons, it doesn’t. I believe the most of the readily-available and lowest cost food choices in this country are unhealthy, that our government has failed us to protect the food supply, and that the poisonous & toxic foods readily available only contribute to the rising health care costs and rampant avoidable diseases afflicting millions of Americans. For God’s sake, if you’re in the hospital with cancer, they serve you meals straight off the Sysco truck, the very foods which may have contributed fully or partially to your condition in the first place. Most MDs consider diet very little in treating their patients. It’s funny that common sense medicine & treatments are labeled “alternative”. Yeah, unfortunately they’re an alternative to head-in-the-sand in many cases.

So, sorry Bill Rodgers. I’m sold. Diet does matter. No question. I just took me nearly 40 years to realize it.

Thanks for reading. Comments welcome.

Sunday, October 30, 2011

first post

Going to give blogging a try. Seems popular, so I'll see if lives up to the hype. While I guarantee this will not be the best-written blog you've ever read, maybe I'll say something worth reading, or possibly insightful. Most likely about running, but occasionally other topics. Why? Because, just like everyone else who does this, I can offer a unique perspective. =)