Shoes

God I hate you so much. You are the bane of my life. All shiny and happy with your fancy stripes and colors.

"Oh, look at me." you seem to yell out "Look how comfortable I am!"  Naturally I am drawn to your sleek lines and promises of fast running.  I see myself putting on a pair and running along the tops of clouds on my way to a magical realm where marathons are easy and every run is a new PR.

First the box is opened.  Delicately the tissue paper is peeled back to reveal your splendor as you slumber in your box just waiting to provide me with hours of running joy. I pick you up, gently remove the paper inside that helps you maintain your figure (a girls gotta look good!) and lace up your last two eyelets.  Sometimes you have a big anti-theft tag attached to you, don't worry baby, it's nothing to be ashamed of; you're still sexy.

Just for a moment I cradle the shoe, the anticipation building.  This is it, this is pair I have been searching for.  My quest is at an end, I have found the perfect pair. I slowly slip the shoe onto my foot, barely able to breathe.  The soft insole rises up to meet my toes, the tongue gives way as I move my foot further into the shoe. Every stitch is felt, every seam explored, every texture sampled.  Finally it is on, fully encasing my foot.  Is this the one?  Could it be?

Daaaaaammmnit! Too tight. Too loose. Heel sits funny. Weird bump rubbing my foot.  Etc and fucking etc.

I rip them off, stuff them back in the box. "Next" I call to the salesman who scurries off to the dungeon for another pair.

And then he is back, holding another box of shoes.  This is it, this is pair I have been searching for...

Repeat until all pairs have been tried on.  Leave store empty handed.  Fuck you shoes, I hate you.

Treadmills

Every day on my way to work I pass a gym.  This gym has big windows so everyone can see out and we can see in.  Every morning I watch all the little mice on their treadmills running to get nowhere.  Now I have nothing against treadmills, except for the fact that they suck your soul out of you.  After all, they are a tool like anything else and can be helpful when used properly.  But what I don't understand is why someone would want to pound away on a spinning rubber mat surrounded by sweaty people who all have headphones on and are doing their best to ignore you?  Sure, if it's raining or snowing or cold or too hot, ok, I get it.  But when it is 60 degrees out and the sun is rising over the harbor and the streets are quiet?  Why are you trying so hard to remove all of the fun out of running?  Go outside!

As I said, I will give some leeway if the weather sucks; to each their own.  Some people just don't want to run in crappy weather. There are also sometimes when there are circumstances where your only choices are treadmill or not running.  If you find yourself in that dilemma go ahead and run on a treadmill.  Otherwise treadmills should only be used for one purpose and one purpose only; to dance!

Off the Rails

Recently I feel like my training has been a real struggle.  Going into the relay I felt like everything was clicking and that I was running the best I have ever run.  Now, not so much.  Since the race I have managed to put on about 6 pounds, even though I have adjusted my diet to be much healthier, and I feel like my running is complete crap.  I've had more days in the past month where I have been really disappointed with my training than I ever have before.  The closer I get to the half marathon in August the more I feel like I am just not ready for it.

I'm not sure exactly what is going on here.  Part of the reason is the weather.  It's just really difficult to put out a solid, hard run when it is 92 degrees out.  No matter what I want to do I just can't give 100% for an hour in temps like that.  I can accept that, but it is still frustrating as all hell.  But to solely blame the weather would be disingenuous and too easy.  Something else is going on here. Mentally I have found it much harder to keep my focus and it often feels like I am just going through the motions.  I've been really looking forward to running the half in Providence and had big plans to set a huge PR so I don't know why I can't seem to stay focused on it.  It seems that the more weight I gain and the more bad workouts I complete the more I get sucked into a downward spiral of negativity which leads to more bad thoughts messing up my head.

You know it is a bad sign when you are trying to choose which marathon to run in October and you begin to favor one over the other solely because it is two weeks later than the other.  That's where I am at right now.  BayState is two weeks after Smuttynose and I keep finding myself picking BayState only because it would give me two extra weeks to train.  Two weeks is nearly useless in terms of marathon training and won't somehow end up putting me over the final barrier to greatness.  And yet here I am, picking a marathon because it is a bit later on the calendar.  I'm not even sure I want to do BayState again, that's the sad part.

Today is another big workout, and another hot day.  The way my numbers have been lately I have a better chance of qualifying for WIC than ever qualifying for Boston.  I'm going to try to pull it all together and get back in the rhythm.  Not much else I can do.

Alright, I'll shut up now.

Edit: Just got back from today's run and it went ok, but frustratingly so.  First half was feeling good and the pace was spot on.  I picked it up and found I was going faster than expected but it still felt great.  Then around 50 minutes in I started to crash.  It was taking all of my energy just to keep a moderate pace, not even marathon pace.  This was not a crazy-hard workout but I still felt like ass towards the end.  Managed to step it up for the last few minutes but goddammit.  Seriously, goddammit.  One thing to note; going the bathroom afterwards I noticed that I was pretty dehydrated, that could have been an issue.

Dog Days

It's freakin' hot out there.  I actually cut my hour-ten run short by seven minutes today because I was starting to feel the effects and didn't want to end up in a bad state.  The heat was definitely beating me up and anytime I got my pace down to around the 7:20's my breathing would start to skyrocket.  Luckily I had the foresight to bring along some Gatorade but even that only helped out so much.

It's not that I was feeling bad during the run it's just that I could feel how limited I was in terms of pace.  It didn't matter what I wanted to do there was a hard limit set by the heat that I didn't dare try and break.  So how did it go overall?  My max heart rate hit an unheard of 201 bpm. 201!  Damn, that's just crazy talk for a run that averaged out at a 7:40 pace.

 I guess this is the part where I could say, "Hey, remember when we were all bitching about the cold and snow in December and how we couldn't wait for summer to get here?  Well you get what you ask for."  But then I would have to smack myself and tell myself to shut it.  No sense in lamenting about days gone by.  For now I'm going to get back to drinking another 60 ounces of fluids in an hour.  I told you it was hot out there.

Warrior Dash

Or: How I Spent My Sunday In Mud

I knew that the Warrior Dash was going to be pretty crazy, after all it bills itself as the "Craziest frickin' day of your life", so I was expecting it. It did not disappoint.

We arrived at the shuttle area with plenty of time before our 11AM wave and was greeted by this:

One big-ass line

Don't worry, we made it to the start eventually.  Then I began to wonder whose bright idea this was.

Um, okay then?

But we are warriors dammit!  Right?  Whose with me?! Anyone?  Okay, time to get into the corral for our start.  Looking around I noticed one interesting fact: (two actually, the first being that people will look for any opportunity to dress up crazily, but that is irrelevant to my story) I was the only one in the group wearing trail shoes.  You know, shoes that are designed to be worn while running over dirt and grass and mud.  Pretty much the exact conditions we were to be facing.  Interesting fact, let's see how it plays out.  One thing I will give the race credit for though, is that they have a recycling program for old shoes.  Wear your shoes during the race and instead of bringing home a souvenir pair of mud sculptures you just throw away the shoes. So this may explain the shoe wearing.

Apparently it is a popular option.

Enough of that, race time!  The gun, er, the shooting flamethrowers go off signaling the beginning of our wave and with a warrior yell we start to run!  And then everyone starts to walk.  The start of the race goes right up the side of a moderate hill for about 120 yards. Here I am thinking how much easier this is than Mt Washington and  yet everyone around me is walking.  Only one thing to do, pour on the speed.  I rapidly left many of them behind and powered my way up the hill into the Forest Of Doom™ (I made that name up) where I leapt like a stag picking my way through the downhill slope.  It was here that I realized that the race wasn't just going to involve running through mud, it was running through mud the entire way.

I continued to pass people.  I ran through muddy puddles.  I slipped, and slided, and generally had a fun time.  I also began to notice that  I was pretty much the only one still running. At the half way point I was still cracking jokes and I was still being ignored by everyone around me.  No accounting for taste I guess.

Finally we began to get to some good obstacles.  The first real one (I omitted the one called "Arachnaphobia" because it was really just a cord stretched between some trees) was a series of walls which were about 3.5-4 feet tall.  You jump over them then scurry under the next one.  Easy.  I attacked it with vigor and leapt over the first wall.  My right foot landed in some mud and I expected the same of my left but instead it managed to find the one piece of solid ground anywhere on the course.  It crunched down hard and hurt.  Visions of a swollen and bruised ankle danced through my head, and marathon training began the next day!  No!  I'd have to deal with that later, onwards through the mud!

More obstacles appeared; the balance planks, the tall wall to climb, the slow walkers (the actual people, not a real obstacle).  I approached and conquered them all.  Truth be told, I was really just jogging the course and having a good time.  The weather was great and the mud wasn't too bad once you figured out how to run through it.  As I rounded a corner I then came face to face with the most intimidating obstacle of the race, the Warrior Roast. Two lines of burning logs stood between me and the free-flowing beer at the end of the race.  I put my head down, quickened my pace, and soared over the flaming debris to freedom!  Actually the logs were only about a foot high so all I needed to do was lift my feet slightly higher than normal.  That was kind of a let down to tell the truth.

Finally I reached the top of the last hill.  Scrambled over the rope wall and slid my way down the steep mud slide; making sure to perform a flawless 360 degree turn on the way down.  There I was presented with a surprise final obstacle, a rope walk, which I rapidly defeated by running over along the support beams.

Jen's technique works too

And then the finish.  Huzzah!  I was covered in mud but had a fun time all around. Next up, turkey legs and beer!

Warrior food

I actually ended up placing 76 overall and 17th AG with a time of 34:05.  Next time I think that I'll actually try instead of just jogging it.

Some pics for your enjoyment.

The "before" picture

And after

Happy to be done

Me and my warrior

Mount Washington Road Race

Twice now I have competed in what is perhaps the dumbest race anyone could ever think of; the Mount Washington Road Race. Why anyone would want to run up a mountain is still a complete mystery to me, even though I have completed it twice now. I think it may be one of those cases of "Because it's there". There really is no other reason for this race to exist. The best quote I heard when telling people that I was doing this race came from Zac when he replied "Why would I want to do that? I already know how to run slow." And run slow I did.

Can you blame me for being slow?

The first time I ran this race in 2009 I fell apart real early and ended up only making it about a mile and a half before I started to walk. It was a source of embarrassment being passed by everyone as we made our way up the hill. I just couldn't hold it together and felt like I walked more than I ran.

My final time was 1:49:57 and I was none too happy about that. 2009 was a big year for me running-wise and going into the race I thought I was ready to rock and show that mountain who was boss! Then it bitch slapped me hard and I learned a valuable lesson; confidence is good but you better have the skills to back it up. Apparently I did not have those skills. My goal this year was far more humble; run as far as I can without walking and then do my best.

As we waited in the field for the start it began to rain, nay, it began to pour. Maybe I should put on a long sleeve, it could be cold up there. Oh yeah, I sent all my gear to the summit. Total dumbass move. Luckily it stopped raining about ten minutes before the start. We made our way to the start and settled in about half way into the crowd where I promptly turned to Mel B and mentioned that I was a bit unnerved being so far back from the start. This proved to be very prescient of me as I thought that since they were using the B-Tag system it wouldn't matter where I started but little did I know that it only recorded the finish time, there was no start line mat. Tricia's kids were there at the start to cheer us on and then the cannon went off to herald us up the mountain.

I had decided on a conservative approach this time so I tucked in behind Mel and Tricia and let them set the pace. Since I had recently received my new Garmin 610 one of the goals on the day was to test out the heart rate monitor. I switched over to the hear rate screen so that I wouldn't keep looking at my pace and instead I just ran by feel. The hill got steep real quick but I managed to keep shuffling along until I found myself moving past the girls around the first mile mark. So far so good.

By mile two I was still making my way up the hill. It was certainly no fun but my legs were holding up well. Apparently around this time a girl managed to fall of the mountain. Tricia and Mel were right there when it happened and saw her tumble down the steep road side and possibly break some bones. Tricia sprang into action and asked if she needed CPR but then realized that she did not and continued on with the race. There are no guardrails at all on the road and one wrong step can easily result in this type of tumble. I had thought of this exact scenario as I was running since most of my first few miles were run right up against the side of the pavement.

Nothing here but sky

Half way arrived and I was still chugging along. It was getting harder but my spirits were high. If I could make it 3.8 miles I could make it 4. And if I could make it 4 I could make it 5, etc. Mile four arrived and the legs were starting to feel it. 4.3 and it was getting real steep. At mile 4.4 the road turned to dirt and the legs were really feeling it now. Finally I made the decision to take a break, 4.5 miles I began to walk for the first time. I was happy that I had made it so far, but it still felt like the worst was yet to come.

The last three miles were a series of walk and runs. At first I would walk for no more than 90 seconds and then run for however long I felt I could. Eventually I abandoned any plan and just went with how I felt. Surprisingly I found that my walking time was getting shorter and even thought the time running wasn't really long, in total I was running much more than walking. Once we broke through the tree line there was a cool breeze to help me along and some spectacular views. Unfortunately I could not see large portions of the road where before I could only see about a quarter mile at best. It was a bit demoralizing looking up and just seeing the road stretch on for a couple miles. But at the same time I could look up and plan what sections to run and walk.

Towards the top the road flattens out a bit into long stretches. It was easy to walk the small steep parts and then run the longer bits. I found that I would walk for about 30-60 seconds and then I could run for almost a half mile. The only limiting factor now was the elevation, I was starting to feel it in my lungs. The lingering cold I had was causing me to wheeze and it was clear that it was getting harder to suck in enough oxygen. Passing the 6000 foot marker I knew that the end was near. A couple of young girls were dancing on some rocks cheering us on, they had drawn encouraging slogans in chalk on the road. The observatory was looming overhead at this point.

The last half mile and I was determined to run it all the way in. It wasn't bad, some of the flattest parts of the race, right up until you hit "The Wall". A 22% grade slope which is the last test before the finish. It is short, maybe 30-40 feet long but it hits you like a truck. Even though I was ready for it as soon as I began to climb up it my head got dizzy, I slowed down to nearly nothing, and I wanted ever so badly to throw up. But I kept those feet moving, inspired on by the cheering crowd and as I made the final turn to the finish I saw the clock flashing out a 1:37 and knew that I was going to beat my old time by over ten minutes.

I crossed the finish line gasping for breath. This was the second time I had made it all the way to the summit but this time it was different. In 2009 I was utterly defeated by the hill, there was virtually nothing about that race that was positive (except the weather). This time I ran the race with respect for the course and it made all the difference. I didn't defeat the mountain, but it didn't beat me either. Overall the day was a success; good weather, good pace, the legs held up, and I had redeemed myself from the last time.

As I looked out over the valley from the highest peak in New England I smiled and enjoyed having finished another great run. And then I smiled some more as I realized that I had packed some great beer for the ride down.

And there was much rejoicing

NE Relay race report

27 hours, 21 minutes, 46 seconds.
223.1 (official) miles
6 guys
1 van

An epic struggle of Man against asphalt across all six New England states concluded at 1:02 PM Sunday afternoon on the shores of the Atlantic Ocean in Kittery Maine.  And the result of that battle was a resounding win for Man.  The Deadly Viper Assassination Squad (or Divas, as everyone was calling us) dominated the race as the team to reckon with.

9:30AM on Saturday Cisco began our journey as our first runner.  Because of the tornado damage in the area legs 4 and 5 were cancelled and instead those two ran leg 2 and 3 with the other assigned runners.  It was kind of a messed up solution to the problem and I'm still not entirely convinced it was the best solution.

Although I can see their concern

By round two I had enough of the warmup and decided that I was just going to hammer each leg.  Screw saving some for later; I figured that it'd be better to push every leg and eventually succumb to fatigue towards the end than to save some energy and find myself with a lot more to give.  This was a challenge of attrition not a contest to see who feels better at the finish.  I started my second leg with UMass Amherst as my destination and with Zac's final words as he approached the transition area ringing in my head:

"There was a bear in the road"

Great.  I'm going to be eaten by a bear.  That thought never left my mind for the next 150 miles.

Leg three and I got the honor of crossing from Vermont to New Hampshire.  It is exactly as exciting as it sounds.  Round the rotary, down the hill, over the bridge, and pass off the baton in the parking lot of a liquor store.  Welcome to New Hampshire.

As we milled about in the third major exchange area (the area where the significantly less-abled runners would meet their other van full of sub-par runners and hand off the running duty to so that they could sleep and sip champagne instead of running) we began to hear rumors that the DVAS were so hardcore that we had managed to pass all of the other teams and were now leading the race.  The only other team ahead of us was another Ultra that had started 4 hours before us.  This instantly did two things to me psychologically.  First it instilled a "Fuck yeah, we rock" attitude in me.  Good for moral.  But secondly it also planted an idea in my head that I would be damned if I was going to let anyone pass me.  It seemed inevitable that a 12 person team had to eventually catch up to us but there was no way that I was going to be the one to let them by.  And I wasn't.  Although someone did get pretty close on my fifth leg.

But back to leg four.  It was a lot of downhills. A lot of downhills.  But there were also plenty of uphills too; especially at mile 8.7 when I was nearly reduced to a walk because the hill was so steep (I did not walk!).  Luckily the team with the cute girls on it kept stopping along the route to cheer me on.  Probably because I rocked that course so hard that they were drawn to my awesomeness.  But they also could have been cheering on a teammate that was running behind me.  I'm pretty sure it was my awesomeness.

Look at that freakin' hill at the end

Leg five began at 4:15 in the morning.  It was dark and the parking lot of the school we were at was completely empty.  We were alone at the front of the race.  That meant there were no lines for the porta-let.  Finally!  I took off into the darkness instantly stepping into a huge puddle but happy to be starting the last of my long legs.  Soon enough the sun was coming up and for the first time since the rednecks in Vermont stumbled out of the bars and into the streets there was some traffic on the roads.  Signs of life were starting to appear around me as I made my way down the road on my run towards Manchester.  It was getting harder to keep up a fast pace and the fatigue was setting in earlier than it had over the previous four legs but I still managed to hold a good pace. Soon enough I crossed the bridge and was in Manchester itself.  Being that it was not even 5AM yet I took every opportunity to run right down the middle of the road.  Take that largest city in New Hampshire!  

The leg ended with another gigantic hill that lasted about half a mile.  I struggled and pushed and ran my way up that thing and as I got close to the transition area I could see our van but Jake was nowhere in sight.  WTF was going on?  There was no way in hell that I was waiting to pass off this baton.  Suddenly he appeared, running out of the porta-let, ripping off his shirt and grabbed the baton just as I arrived.  Perfect timing.  Apparently the sequence of events went like this: they arrived at the transition area and he badly needed a toilet but there was none to be found.  The truck with the porta-let arrived to deliver it and as the base of it touched the ground he was in there taking care of business.  While this was going on I was making my way up that final hill.  The choreography of it all was sublime.

As we approached transition area 29 we were told that there was going to be a one hour hold until we could proceed because our current pace would bring us to the finish before the park it was in would even open.  Further proof that we were both kicking ass and, when the mood struck us, taking names.  But trouble was brewing, the team stacked with Brown college track runners was starting to catch up to us.  With the delay we would be starting the next leg together and it turns out that they had started the race at the same time as us.  This had suddenly become an actual race.  Exciting but short lived; she kicked Ollie's ass over that 11.6 mile leg.  C'est la vie.

Leg six and we were back on top.  Cisco and Zac had managed to beat out the Brown team and I had no intention of letting them back on top.  This was my shortest leg and I planned to give it everything I had left so when Zac handed off the bracelet I took off flying.  Mile two I came upon a trooper who had pulled over a car and in the process managed to block both the gigantic shoulder of the bridge we were on but also half of the travel lane.  As I ran towards them he was approaching the car he had stopped and for some reason he turned his back to me.  Noting the hand on the gun I made sure to loudly yell out "Behind you" as I approached.  Always a good idea to avoid startling anyone with a loaded weapon.  My last leg went down as my fastest and while it felt good I was glad to be done.

Three legs later we were done.  After downing our lobster rolls (but no beer, you bastards) we stood on the finish line to watch the Brown team cross before us and then to welcome Ollie back as he finished our run off a few minutes later.  It was done, nothing left but the drive home.

The finish.  At least it stopped raining.

My stats (via my GPS): 

TL;DR. We ran an Ultra relay this weekend.