Going Backwards In Time

Thanks to my beautiful, industrious, and downright brilliant (she just received her Masters in Business Administration) niece, I now can transfer photos from my iPhone to this blog in four or five easy steps, depending on which route I choose to take.  This newly acquired skill will allow me to make blog entries from the creative recesses of my mind and transfer them to my laptop and then to you, the coveted reader.   It has been quite a while since my last post, mostly due to this lack of file transfer acumen.  I have done three races in the fand I think that reporting on all three would make for a solid jumpstart to my blogging career.  Let's start off with the earliest, longest, and by far the most challenging race I signed up for, the Cape Cod Half Marathon.

My summer and early fall training centered around this race and was, for the most part, fairly consistent.  However, this race presented several challenges.  The most obvious one was the distance.  It has been 6½ years since my last half marathon.  Not only have I not raced at this distance, I have not even trained at it.  The second challenge will be the course.  The race will be held in Falmouth, MA, and it will not be your basic out-and-back or loop run.  This beast will follow a twisty, maze-like pattern among the streets on the south side of the city, adjacent to the waterfront.  The third challenge will be a general lack of familiarity with the logistics of the race itself.  You can study the maps and the race information all you want, but until you actually experience a race, you can not get a feel for the little things that you need to think about, like traffic patterns, course guides, and the all-important port-a-john availability.  This will also be the first race I have ever run while listening to satellite radio, my beloved Tottenham Hotspur is kicking off at just about the time the race starts, so I am counting on this being a pleasant distraction to the anticipated pain.

I left the house early, anticipating heavy traffic on the Bourne Bridge due to construction.  Finding none, I arrive at the designated parking lot at around 6:30, 90 minutes before the start of the race.  I was surprised to find the parking lot about three-quarters full, and even more surprised to see many out-of-state license plates.  It would be foolish to start warming up this early, so I simply take to observing some of my fellow runners' pre-race preparations.  It is encouraging to see that my choice of Nike running shorts and a long-sleeved New Balance shirt seem to be more or less in line with what everyone else is wearing.  I even catch a couple of runners applying anti-chaffing lube.  No, I did not forget this important hack, thank goodness.  The porta-johns next to the parking lot were a nice touch, one which I took full advantage of.

At about 7:20, I started to warm up.  Warming up for a longer race can be unnerving, on one hand, you want your body to be properly fine-tuned so you have no issues, especially at the beginning of the race.  On the other hand, you full well know that this is a long distance, and you are going to need all of your reserves to avoid a DNF.  I decided a run behind the school at the starting line might work, so I put in a very slow half-mile.  There was a pond directly behind the small path, abutted by a wooded area so you could only catch small glimpses of the pond itself.  I was surprised and bewildered to find fellow runners jumping out of the woods and disrupting my warmup, it would only take about fifteen minutes to figure out why.

All warmed up with the nerves starting to hit, I hit the porta-john line in front of the school.  Long lines at the porta-johns before a race are common, however these lines were going slow.  As in barely moving at all.  Inspired by both the race DJ counting down the minutes to the opening gun, and pressure from my 62-year-old bladder, I chose to give the porta-johns near the parking lot a shot.  During the slow jog, the light bulb goes off in my head, and I suddenly realize that those runners jumping from the woods were seeking privacy to avoid the lines.  Smart idea, time to take the cue.  Seeing a small path and a female runner exiting from said path, the location is found and the deed is done.  I am also stoked to find that, upon leaving, I am close to the start line.

The starting pen stretches around the entire circular driveway, at which I am at the rear.  Nothing has been said about starting pens or splitting the start into several groups, but guess what?  While I can understand the logic behind lagging at the start, I am now somewhat concerned that I will not make the 11:00 cutoff.  Whether or not there is a hard cutoff, or if it is just when the police detail packs it in and reopens the course to vehicular traffic, or if there is no cutoff at all, I do not know.  Anyway, I am in the front of the line in the fourth wave, so I try not to look nervous for any race photos, and after a couple of minutes, BANG, and off we go.

The first four miles of the course is a basic loop around Salt Pond, with a solid mile being run on the Shining Sea Bikeway.  Things are going well, my pace is slightly above a twelve-minute mile, I have not caused any pile-ups with the run/walk/run method, I am in general feeling good both physically and mentally, and that pre-start "nature call" is paying off as I am flying by the porta-john lines.  I even had time to snap these photos of Nantucket Sound and Martha's Vineyard.                                                            

You are going to have to take my word that Martha's Vineyard is in these photos.  It was hazy and humid for an early October day, but at this point, weather was not a huge factor.  

Going around Inner Harbor at about the five-mile mark is when things start to go slightly south.  This is where some of the elite runners were heading in the opposite direction, heading for the finish line.  I get the whole "you are competing only against your sixty-two-year-old self" dynamic, but seeing not only these runners on the homestretch but the crowd reacting to them was a little deflating.  Still, I am about on pace to finish at my goal time and there are plenty of folks behind me, so head down and keep plugging.

Miles six through eight see the run enter the opposite side of Inner Harbor, along Falmouth Heights Beach, and finally the turn around at Vineyard Road.  This is where the scenery turns to an upscale beach community, complete with lodging, nice houses, and even a youth soccer field where I had previously coached.  It's here that the first significant hill is encountered, coming into sight after a sharp turn.  I am holding on to an under eight-minute kilometer pace up until about mile eight.  Both a rapidly increasing average heart rate and poor timing at a water station dropped to 8:30km at kilometer 15.  My legs are starting to feel heavy, and my discipline of sticking to the 60/30 run/walk/run is starting to wear thin.

At the 15-kilometer mark, the course took a sharp right and hooked around on what looked like a sort of boulevard with a divider splitting the two sides of the street.  This was the last stretch that I followed the run/walk/run with any consistency.  This part of the course is kind of odd; you had to run with traffic, there were several four-way intersections, the crossover involved cutting over the street divider (problematic after ten miles of running), and once you finished this segment, it felt like you had not made any progress.  Anyway, a quick right, a stop at the porta-john, a walk up the last hill, and it's in the rearview mirror.  

I am at 2:13 at the 17-kilometer mark, and things fall apart rather rapidly.  I know I am bonking, but I also know that I have about 2½  miles left, and even if I proceed at a fast walk for the rest of the race, I should be able to keep it under three hours.  I am excited to pass some of the landmarks around Inner Harbor that I saw on the way out, albeit that passing is now much slower.  I am also noticing that the bulk of the spectators has disappeared so that the extra energy of cheering crowds can no longer be tapped.  I have no plan b; I am either going as far as I can on 60/30, going 30/30, or sometimes just skipping the run portion altogether.  One mile to go at the end of Inner Harbor.

The right unto Clinton lifts my spirits, and my last two splits have been just over 8:00km pace, so with a little over a kilometer to go, I start to get back into the 60/30 rhythm.  This street is all residential, so no real landmarks, but I did appreciate the Eversourse worker at Allen Ave. encouraging me to keep going, The last right to the finish line was about one-half mile, I thought I could plow through but I did need a couple of walk breaks.  Upon seeing Main Street, I knew I made it, so a fake sprint (which must have looked like the slow-motion scene in Chariots of Fire) was in order.  Arms raised for the photo, I crossed in 2:48:37.  Police detail still intact, and my slow goal is made!

I spent more time than usual at the post-race party, downing copious amounts of water, soup, and bananas.  However, soreness sets in, so after some poor stretching, I head back to the car.  But not before a finish line photo, complete with one of those shiny blanket things.

It's Superman!

I'm planning on a couple of half-marathons in 2024.  I will try to shore up the mistakes in training.  Keep your fingers crossed.

 

Love That Dirty Water

 My dream of running in the Boston Marathon is rapidly coming to a close.  I am unsure if I could run 26 miles at one time, much less with a time limit.  However, nothing stops me from running in Boston, one of America's most iconic running cities.  I had to take my wife to Logan Airport on this sunny May Thursday, so I decided to go a little further, park at the Blue Line's Wonderland garage, take the subway to MGH, and do a lap of the Charles River.

The wait at Wonderland proved to be longer than expected due to the almost daily issues with the Massachusetts Bay Transit Authority.   Things went from bad to worse when we passengers were informed of a switch problem with a cable, so we had to walk from one station to another early in the trip   A half-hour ride took about seventy-five minutes, but at last, I was off the train and heading briskly down Commonwealth Avenue towards the river.   When reaching Coolidge Square, a nice pedestrian bridge goes over the busy main roads and puts you safely on the bike path.

I was planning on heading west for my main run, so I chose to head east to warm up.  A short run took me under the Longfellow Bridge, up and around the softball fields, and back to my starting point.  I made note of a few porta-johns in the area; I figured there would be more along the main route.  I was very wrong.

After some quick warmups, I was ready to go, heading west along the river as planned.  The first thing I noticed was that there was not a singular path; you could choose from two and sometimes more paths taking a different angles in the same direction.  At about.5k, I passed the Hatch Shell, home to the Boston Pops and other outdoor concerts.

At a little past the one-kilometer mark, a single path becomes more defined, running parallel with Storrow Drive   At just under 2k, you will pass under the Mass Ave. Bridge   I am pretty sure this artwork was done below the Tressel, but to be honest, dehydration was starting to set in, so my memory is a little foggy.

 

I also took note of some rowing teams on the Charles River.

Got to keep moving. At about the 3k mark, I can see the BU Bridge that I am planning to cross and along with it, the pedestrian overpass that I am going to have to cross to access the bridge.  This overpass presents new challenges; it was a steep climb with steps that is not only tough on the legs but slows down the pace as well.  There was another set of steps after this one to access the bridge, but I opted to circle around Boston University and get to the bridge from Commonwealth Avenue.  Dehydrated and not seeing anyone less than forty years younger than me, I trudge on.

Crossing the BU bridge puts me at 4 kilometers, halfway to today's goal.  It also puts me on the Cambridge side of the river.  There is a smooth right off the bridge, and you are right on the well-defined bike path.  The path runs parallel to Memorial Drive, and it seemed to be more utilized by runners than on the Boston side.  The path is dotted by several boathouses and sailing pavilions.  A word of warning, the path does not travel under the Harvard Bridge as it does on the Boston side; you will have to navigate an extremely busy and treacherous intersection.  Apologies to the car that had to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting me.

At six kilometers, I am starting to run out of gas.  Seeing several runners blow by me, having difficulty setting my run/walk pace and being psyched by a number of dry water fountains, I am starting to think less of this iconic running venue and more about just finishing up.  Getting from the bike path to the Longfellow Bridge requires crossing three busy intersections, and if you do not hit them just right, you might find yourself having to double back to avoid getting completely lost.  Luckily for me, I hit the first intersection right, and the next two intersections were fairly easy to navigate.  I entered the Longfellow Bridge at 7k.

The Longfellow is a busy thorofare, accommodating cars, trains, cyclists, and pedestrians.  The busyness kept my mind off of the fatigue that I was now feeling, but I could not really give it a final kick due to the many people on the sidewalk.  I crossed the bridge and ended up right where I started, doing a few short loops by the Community Boathouse to get to five miles.  My time was 1:05:44, not a great effort, even considering the novelty of the route.

Rush hour was starting to ramp up, so my "commute" home took about three solid hours.  It's always nice to seek out a new route, especially one so well-known in the running community.  It will probably be a while before I try this one again.

Goals Written, and a Solid Week of Training

 My last post could be best summed up by saying that I need to write down some goals for my next race in less than eighty days and record training sessions on paper.  Given my past lack of follow-through with these objectives, I asked you, my coveted reader, to hold me to it.  Consider a written training log and one solid week of training "in the books."

Here it is, about a month later.  I have hit both my written cycling goals and running goals.  Well, maybe one week, I was at ninety percent, but still not bad.

Now I just have to get the blog posts going.

But I'm on a roll.

Hobby Jogger

 Yesterday, I opened up an article in my Google feed from Outside Magazine.  The piece, by Brian Metzler, was entitled "What I Learned Running 30 Days in a Row."  The title piqued my interest for personal "running" reasons; in the Spring of 2020, I completed a modest run streak of 45 days in a row, running at least two miles daily.  My total mileage for the month and one-half streak was about 150 miles.  The feeling that I got at the end of the run on July 4th (it was the Runners World challenge from Memorial Day to Independence Day) was as thrilling as any PR.  The author started his column by stating that we often overthink running, but it should be simple, especially if we view it daily.  It really struck home when he described his current condition as "marginal fitness and lack of motivation."  Now he has my undivided attention!

And then it hits me.  After a brief running resume, the author explains that due to a knee injury, no race goals, and logging more time on his bike, he has turned into a...........HOBBY JOGGER.  I felt like he was writing this section about me.  The slap upside my metaphorical head was hard.  Changes need to be made.

The first step is done; I have signed up for the Peachtree 10k road race in Atlanta, GA, on July 4th.  I have set a goal of improving my time by 22 minutes over last year, a modest goal considering how poorly I ran last year's race.  The second step is also done; I have updated my blog from the year 2017.  A small change, but we are heading in the right direction.

The third step is to make a written training log of planned and actual runs.  I had tried to do this before but always lacked follow-through, and I ended up using a spreadsheet on a computer.  While this is certainly better than nothing, having something on paper where you can see actual gains and losses will make progress much more straightforward.

To go along with step three, I must make a training plan for a 10k race in three months.  I am still Gallowrunning, but I am running longer and have reached that 10k distance several times.  With more consistency, a good time in the July race is achievable.

I am trying to figure out what to do about Zwifting, but increasing running time might decrease time cycling.  We'll see how that fits in.  I am dedicating this upcoming weekend to getting everything down on paper and coming back to write a blog post about it Sunday night.  Hold me to it.

Hobby jogger.  I don't think so.

Dreams......Dashed

 Last Thursday saw a first-in-a-while running accomplishment.  For the first time in a long time, I managed to run 10 kilometers in training.  This was significant for a couple of reasons; my pace was not notably slower than runs of a much shorter distance, ten to twelve seconds per mile slower.  The big takeaway, however, was how I felt at the end of the run.  I had just 6.2 miles in under eighty minutes and did not feel wholly gassed. I could have gone longer (how much or how far, I don't know), but my goal was 10k, so I left it at that.

But it got me thinking.  Am I now in a position to do a half marathon?  What seemed impossible a few months ago now looks at least a remote possibility.  Also, the New Bedford Half Marathon is rapidly approaching and will be held on my birthday, no less.  After calculating pace and distance conversions for what seemed like hours, I figured I could give 16 kilometers a shot at a pace of around 7:50 per kilometer.  This would provide me with leeway for the cut-off time of three hours and a general idea of where my fitness stands concerning these longer distances.

Thursday, February 23, sees me set out to the Cape Cod Canal bike path, chosen for this experiment due to its familiarity and easy terrain.   When I arrived, it was clear that the weather was cold and windy, perfect conditions not to time trial.  I abandon the canal, but before giving up entirely, I try another bike path.  The Shining Star Bike Path is only a fifteen-minute drive and is less exposed to the elements than the canal.  Off we go.

I arrive at the northern trailhead parking lot and am immediately struck by the fact that I am the only car in the lot.  Yes, it is cold and lightly raining.  Yes, it is not the summery tourist season.  Yes, nobody wants to ride a bike for fun in this weather.  But the last time I was here, we had to fight for a parking space.  I was unsure whether to take this as a good or bad omen, but so be it.  All electronics and necessary gear gathered, and away we go.

I have only been on the Shining Star Bike Path once before, and that was for an extended rehab walk.  Most users were cyclists, but that would not be an issue today.  The topography was primarily flat, with mileage markers every .1 mile.  The cons didn't seem to have much to do with the path itself; the weather, while much improved from the canal, was still pretty miserable, my goal of ten miles within a specific time frame was still a vast unknown, and a lot could go wrong physically with my body trying to complete this ambitious run.  Warmup complete; time to go.

I covered the first two kilometers in a little over fifteen minutes.  As I am still "Gallorunning," I thought running through one of my walk breaks this early stage would be beneficial.  My split for the 2nd kilometer was under eight minutes, so I naively thought this was a good thing.  Uh-oh, foreshadowing. The markers placed every .1 mile make for a worthy goal to try to hit at the end of a run split.  Things are going well through the first seven kilometers, a little less than halfway to go, and my worst split is slightly over eight minutes.

Between the seventh and eighth kilometer was the beginning of the end.  I start to feel both fatigue and a sense of being uncomfortable settling in.  My heart rate was beginning to reach the high 140s during the run segments, and I could not get it below 140 during the walk segments.  The constant light drizzle is adding to general dampness, especially on my feet.  My glasses are useless, so I hook them into my shirt, only to have them dig into my skin.  I chose to walk through a run segment; initially, this was not a bad idea since my split ended at 8:25.  I hit the five-mile halfway point, resumed my planned run-walk schedule, and hit a decent 7:36 split.

It was a little into the ninth kilometer that things fell apart.  I had to walk through most of the kilometer and ended up with a 9:35 split.  Feeling like I still had something left, I resumed my run-walk cadence at the ten-kilometer mark and continued a mile.  My time for that mile was about thirteen minutes, suitable for what I was trying to accomplish and for this point in the run.  But that was it.  Run officially abandoned.

I had to walk about three miles to return to my car, plenty of time to contemplate what went wrong. The overriding problem was that I tried to tackle a run that was too far in distance while at the same time trying to finish said run in a certain amount of time.  The constant calculating and recalculating of pace and miles took up too much headspace.  I doubt I could have finished a ten miler, at any rate, today, but attaching a time goal just was not realistic.  Even though I should have taken some positives away from the run, it was tough to swallow a metaphorical DNF and a long walk to process it.

Getting back to the car, I figured I could enjoy some decent metrics about the run, but that was not the case.  Most of the numbers were expected.  The only positive thing was a gain of four on the Strava fitness scale.  My final time was 1:33:52 for an 11.6 km run, for a pace of 8:05.  I wanted to keep it under eight, so it wasn't too bad, but certainly not what I was hoping for.

I held on to the belief that I could take another run before the half and give it another shot, but that thinking came and went.  No New Bedford Half Marathon this year.  Let's just keep training and see what happens.

You Take the Little Victories

 My wife and I traveled to Atlanta the last week of January to visit my new grandson.  It also sees less of me; thanks to a fasting diet plan set up by the church that we have been attending, I have lost eighteen pounds since New Year's Day.  I am hoping to run over the course of the week.  It is an excellent test since the routes are reasonably compact but challenging regarding incline.  I am still "Gallowrunning," usually running for two minutes and walking one. Still, this method feels more comfortable each time out and provides steps toward a reasonable goal.  I figure that I can increase the running-to-walking ratio at a gradual and steady pace, moving to productive all running workouts.

One route, in particular, has caught my attention.  We came down in December to help my daughter and son-in-law with various things around the house and, of course, to be near when the baby was born.  During this busy time, I ran more of the two-to-one Gallowrunning throughout the neighborhood, directly behind my daughter's complex.  One run saw me complete 5 kilometers in 43:08, but that did not stand out.  I remember the trouble I had finishing the run and my struggles early into the first lap.

I knew the course would be hilly (what course in Atlanta isn't?), but it seemed like I was gasping for air way too early, even before the steep grades poured in.  By the time I got to the half-hour mark, I was so gassed that I had to walk one segment that I should have ran, and it was so bad that my walk pace was barely at a crawl.  I pounded out the final mile or so, cheating whenever I had to in order to finish.  I was surprised that I managed to break 45 minutes, but that did not help my overall dissatisfaction or aching quads.

Fast forward to this week.  I started the trip with two good runs through the same neighborhood, each about 3 to 3½ miles, with improved pace and power numbers.  I choose to take a run and see if I can improve on the "pain course" numbers or, at the very least, prove that I can run it without needing to call 911.  Here we go.

My daughter's complex has a nice setup to do a warmup run; it is flat, almost entirely traffic free, and located very close to the main drag in case you feel like getting in some moderate pre-run hills.  I struggle with the warmup, which is concerning but not nearly enough to make me alter my plans.  After some goofy leg swings and skipping warmups, which a passerby finds amusing, I am off. Excellent start in the complex, out a side gate to the sidewalk, and here we go.

The first real test will be on the first right, Merry Lane.  The street has a downhill slope almost immediately followed by a 7% grade hill.  At the end of the hill, the course takes a right turn unto a small connector street, where I had my first meltdown on the previous run.  On that occasion, I was ready to dial 911 for the oxygen tanks during my walk phase.  This run is not as alarming; while I felt my heart rate rise, the consideration of throwing in the towel did not cross my mind.

The next right circled around and brought you back out to Merry Lane.  Interestingly, this street was named Christmas Lane and had a similar topography; however, the incline had a steep beginning followed by a longer, less sharp gradient.  Easier on the legs and harder on the mind.  I am fortunate to hit the steepest part of the hill on the walking phase; while this does not do much for my time, I navigate the rest of the street with minor wheezing and minimal profanity.  I got back to the main drag in just over eighteen minutes.

Two quick rights see me pass a Dunkin Donuts and land on Lavista Road, the main thoroughfare on this route.  I am on this road for about 20% of the route, and that's fine.  It is relatively flat, has a nice safe sidewalk, and has plenty of smaller checkpoints to aim for, whether it be intersections, bus stops, or synagogues. I clean this out in about eight minutes, and with my heart rate hovering around 130, I am confident that I can finish this route in less than sixteen minutes.

The right unto Bramble Road is where I lost considerable time last run.  I was so gassed that I had to walk through a run phase while on this road.  Not today.  Everything is still going according to plan.  Bramble Road is similar in topography to the streets I encountered at the beginning of my run, one steep decline followed by one steep incline, with a slight twist: the decline on this street is longer than the incline.  Encouraged and still feeling strong, I get through the hill and take a right onto Holly Lane (are you sensing a theme here?) for the last leg of my journey.

It is no longer looking like a matter of if I will beat my previous time but by how much.  However, there is still work to do; Holly Lane has a gradual incline for the entirety of the road.  There is also a very steep hill on the back path that returns you to my daughter's complex.  Considering all this, I don't attack this street with a blistering pace but just take it easy back to the glorious flatness of the complex's parking lot.  

A quick semi-lap sees me hit the five-kilometer mark in, can you believe it, 38:27!  I shaved four minutes of my previous time, and I could run further if I wanted to, contrast that with my limping into port and gagging for air on the last run.  All kinds of encouragement here, from the time and pace to the endurance, to the effort on the hills.  This run acted as a  springboard for more frequent and longer runs; in fact, I have reached my Strava goal for weekly distance for the past three weeks.

Watch out, Peachtree Road Race.  Little victories are adding up!