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This morning’s assignment was “racing” the Scarsdale 15K. It is the oldest, continuously run race in Westchester, run on a nice, somewhat challenging course. Indeed, I wish it were to again be among the premier races in the County. (To me, the only race that qualifies currently is the Rye Derby five-miler.)
This would be my first race since shattering my elbow back in August. I’ve been running consistently since then, with breaks for a few operations, but have not gotten much mileage in (my longest so far is 12.2 in 1:27) and have only recently begun speedwork.
So this was a test as much as anything. I ran 54:26 in 2007 and 54:28 last year. But those were not in play this time around. The plan was to go out relaxed and pick it up.
I was disappointed that TK of PigtailsFlying could not come because she’s nursing a sore hamstring and heading to London, so her absence was understandable. On the positive side, I needn’t compete with her description of the course and the race.
The weather forecast was for rain, and it rained before I got up. But a quick check of the radar showed that the heavy clouds were passing and in the event there was at most a slight drizzle. Heading up, I realized that I had forgotten my Garmin, perhaps for my refusal to give it a name. I had enough time, so I headed back home. I thought it important to monitor how I was doing in the race and I had no other watch. (I still haven’t had the watch whose band broke when I fell fixed.)
I arrived in plenty of time for the 9:15 start. I ran into Manhattanville Coach Mike Owens — with whom I’d run last Sunday — at check-in, and I knew he’d beat me. There’s a 4 miler that went off at 9:00. Light warm-up, head to start in singlet, arm warmers, Asics hat, and racing flats. There are a couple of New York Harriers in their black and a couple of Greater New Yorkers in their bright yellow at the start.
Off we go. One guy takes off, one of the GNYers, but he looks like he’s going to one of those first half-mile wonders. But he’ll keep going and never look back. He’d win in a quite respectable 50 and change. Mike goes with him and they’re gone. The two Harriers pulled ahead as well. I’m in a group with the other GNYer and a couple of local-looking guys.
The course takes a sharp right. I look at the Garmin. 5:38 and that’s way too quick, so I ease off. Now some WTC guy whizzes by; obviously he started late. This road is rolling. No serious hills but enough to test slightly on the way up but give relief on the down. Through the mile in 5:55. (I’m using my Garmin splits, but they are likely a little fast because the Garmin would have the race distance a little long at 9.44 miles.)
But in my rhythm, the guys with me fall away. By 1.5 miles I will neither pass nor be passed for the duration. There’s a steep-but-short hill right at 2, and I’m up it. Split of 6:12. After the hill a left turn and nice slight downhill to another left and a sharp, steep downhill (which we’ll hit going the other direction at 6.5). Past the fireman manning the water station and I think of poor TK.
From this point I’m beginning to hurt. I am running a little faster than intended, and I’m, as I say, in a rhythm. Mile 3: 6:01. Mile 4: 5:58. Still a good mix of ups and recovery-allowing downs.
Now things begin to get dicey. “Just get to half-way.” I am straining through 5, another 5:58. “Just get to Fenimore Road.” Right onto that with an up and then a down and then, nothing. I stop. I simply can’t hold this pace. 12 seconds and run again, but only briefly. I’m thinking, “What’ll I say about this on my blog? Gotta get going.” So I get going. “Just get to 7.” 6: 6:29.
Trouble is, that steep downhill noted earlier is between me and 7. So 3/4 up, I stop again, but briefly. Then the fireman-manned water station. I’ve never stopped at a water station in my life. Until today. Little cup; savor it. But now I really can’t stop again. Through 7: 6:28. Course rolling and start to relax. Pull off arm warmers and hold them in left hand.
For a bit, I think I might be lost. There’s no one anywhere. But, no, I’m good. Keep at it. Still hurting, but I’m past the toughest part, the notorious three-quarters mark. 8: 6:02. 9: 6:03. Finish on the track, for about 300 meters. Seems a long ways. But I’m through. 57:31. 5th overall (although it was really 6th since the guy who whizzed by got lost and finished 6th).
Chatted with a bunch of folks afterwards, including Frank Colella of the Rundangerously blog (who’s about to do a 100 miler, which I find beyond amazing) and the two Harriers. Got my age-group bowl. Headed home.
Lesson. While I pointed out the lack of much speedwork, I think the main lesson here is the lack of longer runs. At this level — by which I mean redlining it — you need a store of strength and stamina to hold it. I am, dare I say it, “soft.” Last year I came into the race with a bunch of 2 hour/17-18 milers under my belt. So I could keep going at a hard rhythm. That’s the main thing lacking right now.
I can’t complain about the time; for a while I wondered whether I could break an hour. This was a test meant to assess things. It exposed a glaring weakness. I need to slowly and steadily increase the weekly long run. And get in some nice speedwork. To some extent I can “race myself into shape” in races to come, but without the miles, it won’t get me where I want to go.
Edited to add: I neglected to mention Herb C. He’s a guy I brought into my old club after I had seen his posts on the essentially defunct CoolRunning site. He’s a hard worker who I saw before and after the start, and he was quite pleased with a PR after a long stretch, longer than mine, of non-racing, in his case due to some running injuries. It was good to see him after about a year.
Cowboy Hazel posted a comment in which, in addition to correctly taking me to task for an indelicate and inaccurate statement, he related his recovery from the disappointment of his realization that he wasn’t as fast in a mile as he wanted to be.
It was humiliating for me at the time because I was so caught up in the idea of being a fast runner and when I realized that I wasn’t nearly as fast as I wanted to be (or thought I was), I had this whole feeling like, “Why should I even bother? I’m never going to win these races. I’m never going to come close. I should just give up.” But then, it hit me, it’s not about the time that you get when you finish, it’s about how much you enjoy the run.
I can relate to these feelings, particularly since I started in this running business long ago and in high school ran the 440 and 880 (as well as XC). (I didn’t run seriously in college and really took it up again when I started law school.) I am so much slower now. And I often have similar feelings during shorter road races when I too wonder “what’s the point.”
Hazel:
So, I realized, for running to be worthwhile to me, it has to be something that gives me enjoyment (because it’s not a job) — and it has to be more enjoyment than the pain and hard work that goes into it.
No one reading this is going to set the world afire with her running. (If you’re Ryan Hall and reading this, please drop me a line.) We all do it for the enjoyment and we all have different criteria for what this enjoyment is. While we may fall into different categories of runners (like my “runner” vs. “racer”) we all share the pleasure of going out an putting one foot in front of the other again and again when, face it, there are plenty of easier ways to spend our time.
For us, there’s a certain amount of perverse “enjoyment” in the “pain and hard work” or we wouldn’t be doing it, even if it’s enjoyment simply when we’re done and have the aura of satisfaction which lasts until the next time we have to — “have to” because that’s what we are and that’s what we do — do it again.
All this is a round-about way of saying something about racing on the track. I’m a proponent of running some track races, as well as XC races, during the year simply because they are fun. Not easy, fun. Yet it’s incredible how few people head out to Icahn Stadium for the NYRR outdoor track races. I try to get out there at least once a year.
I tend to end up at the back of the pack in whatever the race is. The leaders disappear into the distance and in a 3000 I start worrying about being lapped. On a 400 meter track. I feel so slow. And to many I am so slow.
I enjoy it, however, because I set simple goals for myself. My competitive juices flow as I get near enough to the finish to have confidence that a bit of kick won’t leave me short of the line. But I’m just struggling for myself, as are most of those out there. But struggle I do, as you can see from this photo from Sue Pearsal’s site (taken by Armando), as I try to cross the finish of a mile in barely under 5.
I’m a nervous guy for races. My old clubmates used to kid me, saying, “Joe has his game face on.” I’d smile but my face wouldn’t change. Now this is pretty silly. How I perform in a race is of little consequence except for me. (Except for the Club races where I might score and still regret the second place we got when our top three masters, of which I was the third, were 3 seconds out of first; the Healthy Kidney picture of me was taken while that very thought was in my head as I struggled to save every second I could.)
Anyway, here’s a video from Jack Daniels discussing nerves and how in his experience runners and nerves run the gamut. I cannot embed Flotrack videos, so you’ll just have to click through:
Jack Daniels on nerves.
This comes to mind because my first race since August and my accident is Sunday’s Scarsdale 15K. Here, I have no idea how I’ll perform. I’ve run the race twice, 54:26 in 2007 and 54:28 in 2008. But both times I was in pretty good shape with HMs beforehand. This time, I had some longish runs in which I finished and knew that, OK, I can handle 15K.
Tonight’s run was supposed to be easy, but I was pumped and ended up running at a pace for 7.5 that would get me under an hour on Sunday. Tomorrow will be very short, with a few strides. On a little speed work, the plan is to go out relaxed, not worrying about pace or position, and get into a groove for a fast second half. This is how I run HMs, always with a negative split.
To close the loop on some recent stuff, after some additional comments by me, here’s the response from the person mentioned:
Alrighty then. Now that everyone has gotten a chance to speak their mind on the mileage controversy, I think it’s about time we bury the hatchet and move on. But before I do, let me set the record straight. Although I was perturbed and rather perplexed by the harsh criticism, it was NEVER my intention to desecrate or otherwise ridicule the character of the critic. Nor was it my intent to assemble the minions to launch a verbal assault against the perpetrator. I highly respect everyone’s opinion, even those that do not agree with my own. However, I also believe that when the basis of ones hard work for the last several months comes under heavy scrutiny, I am similarly obliged to offer an objective defense using my own past training as evidence. Otherwise, if I continued forward in silence, it would appear as if I am acquiescing to the label of my marathon training as “soft” which I vehemently do not agree with. (As a matter of fact, even in further defining the term, the lesson learned in a sub 2:30 marathon was used – which is really not anywhere close to what MY marathon goals are. Therefore, the question of mileage for a sub 3:00 marathon is not the same as for a 2:30 marathon. So, in my opinion, to use that derogatory term to describe my training when it’s already been shown to be able to carry me to a 3:02 marathon is really not justified.) Furthermore, as I’m the acting running coach for more than a few friends and bloggers, how can I perform my duties honestly in helping them train for their own half-marathons and marathons with a custom plan I designed for them if I don’t even believe enough in my own training philosophy to offer a suitable defense when it is under attack. As such, I was more or less forced to build a strong case for myself not using slander or ridicule but using objective verifiable training data from marathons past. I truly hope I have done that. If anyone took offense from my arguments on my own behalf, then I am the one who’s truly sorry because I thought I handled the situation as tactfully as I could and took my time to select my words carefully.
I guess we can all agree to disagree and continue on with our individual methods for training for races the way we like.
I don’t know how anything that I said could be characterized as “harsh criticism.” I described “soft” as follows:
In 1984, my NYC target time was 2:25. I ran 2:29:13 in 1983 in my debut, and thought 2:25 well within reach. Quality was not an issue. My easy runs were 2 loops of Central Park at 1:10 and I did speed workouts every Tuesday and Thursday. But I never got in the miles I hoped to over the summer and into the fall.
So I went into the race “soft.” That means that if everything broke my way, especially the weather, I’d have a shot at my goal. There’s no margin for error. In the event, the weather was brutal, like Chicago a few years back. (The race winner stopped 10 times.) I got to 19, with my pace slowing down, and dropped out. But I had a back-up marathon, Baltimore, six weeks later. (It was then in early December.) After a week off, I started ramping up, but threw out my back and did not do another marathon for 20+ years.
“Soft,” then, is not a pejorative. It’s merely my description of being light of miles, without regard to one’s goals or non-running commitments, the race being 26.21875 miles for everyone. And quality and quantity are not mutually exclusive.
Somehow the use of the term was deemed an insult instead of an observation. And his contention that the mileage appropriate for a sub-2:30 is irrelevant to a sub-3:00 is nonsense.
The strange think is that I was not saying the guy was being too ambitious. I was saying he was not being ambitious enough, and yet these acolytes unencumbered by any restraints on the use of exclamation points took it as some sort of slight on the guy. All his supposed proof did was show that his training suggests that he can run faster than he has run before, not that he can run as fast as he can run.
Most of the runners and bloggers I know understand, I think, the distinction I was trying to make about runners versus racers. On the most recent Runners Round Table, in fact, a similar distinction was raised, without objection, as between completors and competors. (Actually, Toni objected when she thought it related to speed and not effort/intent, but withdrew her objection when the speaker said what mattered was how hard the racer (or runner) was going, not how fast.)
Nowhere did he simply say, “Look, I’m a busy guy and I can’t put in the mileage and while I understand that I could run faster in a marathon if I ran more beforehand I’m perfectly content with a sub-3.”
My niece, who’s about to enter business school, ran the 2006 ING NYC Marathon. I asked her to write a note to a member of my Club, which I then put in the Club newsletter. It’s a different perspective.
“I have to say it was one of the greatest things I have ever done and I actually can’t wait to run another marathon.
“I was not a runner at all before this year. I played volleyball throughout high school and college (a sport where running long distances is looked down upon because it decreases your vertical). I also played soccer and lacrosse, but had never run more than 3 miles when I graduated college a year and a half ago. However, I had attended the Boston Marathon every year and I always said running a marathon was something I wanted to do, although I never actually believed I would be able to do it. I moved to New York and started working full time but missed having a schedule to follow and a goal to reach. I thought about doing triathlons, but it was too hard for me to find places to swim and bike. So, I went for the next best thing . . . training for a marathon. I found a schedule on the road runners website (which had lower mileage during the week making it easier with work) and long runs on Saturdays. I followed it for four months. Every week I was amazed that I could actually run that far. And by following it, my body was prepared for race day and I was able to recover very quickly.
“As for the day of the race, it was unbelievable. So many people of all shapes and sizes all running just to cross the finish line. And then the number of people who are cheering you during the 26.2 miles is incredible. They have no clue who you are, but when they call your name, you feel as if you have known them your whole life. While it was not the most pleasant 4 plus hours of my life, the feeling when crossing the finish line was completely worth it. Now all I think about are the good things . . . my family and friends that were so supportive (well, after they realized that I was actually serious about running), the feeling of achieving a goal I wasn’t positive I could do, crossing the finish line, and then being congratulated by strangers while walking back to my apartment. It was great. All in all, I would encourage everyone to run a marathon (and as I learned, I think most people would be able to if they set their mind to it).
“I started with a goal to cross the finish line but now I want to get a better time. I plan on running half marathons in the next few months and hope to get faster with each race. People have always told me running marathons is addictive and I finally see why.
“Sorry for all of the random information, but I am definitely very excited about the whole event.”
I find myself periodically chiming in, as I call it — others may call it butting in — when I see a post that I find interesting. For the most part I try to be encouraging. But I do not use “!”s and I try to be honest.
So I was a bit taken aback when I posted something deemed critical about someone else’s training, with the caveat that it was based upon my experience, and was roundly slammed for it in certain circles (although since most of the runners I know are more of my thinking they understood). Perhaps I should have further caveated that it was based upon my mind-set.
The more I see of her, the more I like Jenny Barringer, who runs for Colorado and ran the women’s steeplechase for the USA in Beijing. She likes her coaches in part because they never tell her she can do something she can’t or can’t do something she can. When I served for a period as the coach of my former team, my thought was to have everybody training for a particular objective do the same general workout, varied only by pace. Simplistic, yes, but I figured that there was no reason why someone training for a marathon or a season of 5Ks to HMs would not benefit from the specific speedwork we did once a week.
My view was further dictated by accepting that each of the regulars shared my mind-set, i.e., to be the best runners they could be. Some club members didn’t come because that was not what they wanted, and this fissure lead to my leaving the team. But those who did worked hard at it.
But I could have a discouraging word now and then, particularly on the issue of running marathons. If you want to race a marathon, you must respect the distance, and to do that you must put in mileage. So I discouraged clubmates on the issue if I thought they were jumping in too soon or too light.
After I came back to the marathon almost by accident in 2006, I did a fair amount thinking and reading about the marathon and felt/feel that I understood myself and what I needed to do to be more successful than I had been. I’d tell anyone who’d listen, and a number who wouldn’t, that you learn more from your race mistakes than from anything else. And I made a bunch of them, before and during the race. So periodically I, as I say, chime in.
There’s a local runner I know through his blog. He’s been pointing towards Boston, but confessed to being light in terms of mileage, pleading that he had other commitments and he was prone to injury if he upped it. He ran a 3:02 NY in 2008. He opened the floor to discussion about whether one could successfully run a marathon on 40 miles or so a week.
Not surprisingly, I chimed in, as did at least one other person, that that’s not enough to give one a shot at running well, by which I mean anything close to potential. While I’ve finished only two marathons, one thing I learned in 2006 was that I needed more mileage going in if I were to run well. (In a sense “well” is a relative term; I mean it in relation to one’s potential. After I ran NY 2006, I posted on LetsRun that I hadn’t put in that much mileage — I maxed at about 65 — and someone said that I’d never run really well on that kind of mileage and I came to agree with her. For comparison purposes using age-grading, my marathon time is over 2 points lower than my others.)
There’s nothing wrong if you can’t put in the mileage, and I’m not talking about crazy mileage but at least getting north of 60, about not running a marathon. I’ve only done two. There’s a whole other life in the HM and shorter world. Indeed, in the most recent “Competitors,” there was a discussion with a bunch of Olympic distance triathletes. One of the hosts noted that lots of triathletes get into a comfort zone of doing Ironmans and don’t like the tempoish effort required for a half-Ironman, let alone the gut-wrenching encountered in an Olympic distance, which is about a 1K swim, 40K ride, and 10K run. I’ll confess to not particularly enjoying 10Ks and shorter races because of that gut-wrench.
Anyway, there’s quite a bit to be said about not having to devote six months to train for a single race. On the other hand, there are those who opt not to look at marathons that way. A marathon is another adventure. There’s a group that celebrates serial-marathoners.
But that’s not my thing. As must be clear from my prior posts, I tend to take these things seriously in terms of performance in terms of potential. So when the runner I mentioned at the outset said he had a 60+ week, I said that if that’s representative, he wasn’t so soft. He posted that he ran an HM workout faster than he had done the Manhattan HM a couple of months before, and it seemed to me that he had a shot of doing fine at Boston.
Then he posted that he tweaked his hamstring doing speedwork and is now out for a bit. To me, this was the kiss of death. I said that he was already “soft” going into Boston and because you can’t mess with a hamstring, he should seriously consider a back-up race in May. But in the end, his mind should shift to running well in New York by using what work he’s done for Boston as a base for a solid training approach for NY. If he can’t do the work, however, he shouldn’t bother. What’s the point of running a 2:57, I put it, if you could run a 2:45? That’s my mindset at least.
My advice led one person to pose the title question, i.e., “What kind of runner would I be if I just gave up because of a minor setback?” Putting aside that this was not a “minor setback,” my answer would be a racer.
Edited to add: My “criticism” was responded to at the original source.
After a few weeks, I decided to head up to the Rockies today. I figured that there would be folks heading out from the Sleepy Hollow HS parking lot at 8:30, and I saw Mike Owens, the coach at Manhattanville College, my alma mater, who was kind enough to send me an M’Ville track/XC t-shirt. Coincidentally, that’s the shirt I chose to wear this morning, along with arm warmers and compression shorts. It was a bit chilly early, but as it warmed up I was glad I could take the warmers off. (I’ve downgraded the temperature at which I wear arm warmers as opposed to a long-sleeve shirt after seeing a post by someone who wore them when it was 6 degrees. F.)
Rockies, March 22
So it was a nice, controlled run, not the type of overheated thing I tend to do alone. No problems, 1:27, with plenty of hills throughout.
For the week, two days off with PT, one good tempo session, several enjoyable runs after work (great because they were outside and the temp was not bad), a nine-miler in which a pretty quick pace felt like a jog, and a nice trail run.
Strangely, though I find that a particular pace seems much harder when I’m in a group than when I’m alone. It’s counter-intuitive. Running with others and being diverted by conversation should ease things. But especially when I’ve been at the Rockies with others, things can get pretty dicey even at a pace, say, 10 seconds slower than I run for the exact same course.
From the Runners Round Table, on which I was this afternoon (listen, if you dare), where I mentioned road relays. Here’s something about them I wrote a bit ago:
If there are any questions, I’ll be happy to answer them. As I say, these relays are all over the country. We hope to have a show dedicated to road relays in the summer.
Edited to add: I posted the above right after the show, in case anyone was interested in road relays. The theme of the show itself was the Buckeye Outdoors training log site. Largely the work of the show’s guest, Ben Deutschle, it is worth a visit. Most significantly, it syncs with workouts you download from a Garmin or similar device into SportTracks. It is set up so that if you can download to SportTracks, you can sync with Buckeye Outdoors. Once you get the sync set up, it takes about 10 seconds to sync subsequent workouts.
You can also, as with many other sites, manually put in stuff.
But the more interesting thing is GoWagon. In essence it syncs your workouts in Buckeye Outdoors to a larger world. By that I mean it is set up as a community. Think Facebook for runners. So you have “friends” and you can see what other people are doing in their running, provided that they designate their stuff as “public.” (At the request of someone, it is set so that you can make your “home” private in the mapping function.) As with Twitter, you can also follow people, or be followed by them.
This is GoWagon. It’s in its early days, but Ben is doing a great job. But he makes it clear that he is not alone in this, and gives plenty of credit to the others that have helped him. Listen to the podcast — my voice isn’t as bad as I feared, although I am a little quiet.
I had a good run today. I had a 9:30 appointment with my orthopedist — who says things are going well with the bones well-healed and the sole issue being range-of-motion — so I had time to head down to the B’ville Track for a tempo run.
Last Tuesday’s tempo run did not go well. It was my first bit of speedwork on the treadmill. I set it for 6 min. pace. The first minute was disconcerting, but even after I became accustomed to that type of run on the treadmill, it was a strain. So it ended at 10 minutes.
Today was difficult for the first few laps. How many of these can I do? The plan was 20 minutes. But after a too-fast 1st 402 (it’s a weird track) at 83 I settled in. From there, it was a strain, yes, but I was able to get relaxed and run consistent 89-92 laps. So my 20 minutes for 13.25 laps or so.
When I’m in better speed-shape, I can do them a little quicker and do 2 sets of 20 mins., with a 4 minute rest between, in flats (today’s were trainers). So I have a way to go. But this was: Result: happiness.
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