Why Do Runners Run?

By Shokofeh Motlagh

Why do runners run? This is a question I have often asked myself. Running is not a comfortable sport.  I start to question myself each time I have a bloody blister or lose another toenail.  Or when we’re running Wednesday morning track intervals and push the speed work to a sense of lack of oxygen and nausea. When you do 24 by 200s or 16 by 400s and you’re pushing the speed until that very last bit. Lungs and legs are on fire. Yet you finish with that dorky satisfied half grin knowing you have achieved something real.  There’s further questioning of my sanity when I’m out on a long run and reach that barrier where I’m utterly exhausted and feel I have absolutely nothing to give. My legs start to feel like lead and I’m mentally fried and can’t seem to take another step. Somehow, somewhere we runners push through and finish that long run. Sometimes we don’t even comprehend where that last little bit of energy or power came from.

So if there’s so much pain involved, why would anyone take on such a sport? Why would anyone wake up at 4am day after day to face cold or heat, rain or snow just to endure pain? It doesn’t make sense does it?

I always knew I was different. However, I think the event that made me realize there was no going back to “normal” was my 51km Full Moon Extraterrestrial race. Once I give you the details of this race and the state I was in to run this race, you’ll know exactly what I mean.  Let me first explain to you that “runners” are not usually illogical people. They know what is “right” and what would be considered to be “not healthy” behaviors. To make it clear, we are not idiots. In fact, our IQs are rather high. When injured, we research the symptoms, etiology and treatment to every ounce of detail. Despite having intellect and being rather knowledgeable, runners are not good at following advice. The little voice that tells us “No, I don’t think that is a good idea” is quite often ignored.  Words that are often used to describe runners are Type A, OCD, stubborn.  In my opinion, these are rather harsh labels.

Back to this 51km which at the time seemed like a brilliant idea. This race was not planned by any means.  Keith and I ran the Eugene Marathon at the end of July 2014 and had a great trip. Eugene Marathon was my fourth full marathon of 2014 and I completed that race in 3:25 and considering the heat in the last half of the race, I was pleased with the outcome.

Eugene Marathon is usually held in the month of May but because the race director wanted it held in unison with the IAAF World Junior Track & Field Championship, they decided to change it to July in 2014. This meant suboptimal conditions for the marathon and dealing with heat and humidity. After many complaints and medical emergencies, they decided to change it back to May in 2015. It’s a beautiful course and very well organized in track town and I highly recommend this marathon to all runners.  You get to finish your marathon by running half a lap on Hayward Field (the track for the Olympic trials) and all the spectators are sitting up in the bleachers cheering for you. It was an amazing experience!

Little did I know that we would sign up and run my first ultra, a very challenging 51km course exactly two weeks after Eugene.  I guess you can say it was a spur of the moment decision by me and Keith.  I had always wanted to run an ultra and had looked into various ultra road races (there really aren’t that many road races) but I had not planned on running this particular one and definitely not so soon. I also didn’t know that I would be very ill leading up to the race with a high fever and chills. I guess you can’t plan for everything. We flew to Vegas on the Friday evening after a full day of work and our flight was delayed by four hours. Sitting in the cold Tucson airport until 10 pm with a fever was not my idea of fun to be honest. Once we arrived in Vegas, we checked in the hotel and passed right out. The next day, Saturday, we were supposed to meet at the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino by 8pm to check in for the race. I spent the entire morning in bed just trying to break my fever. I drank lots of fluids and took lots of Tylenol flu medication hoping it would help. Keith got me lunch and we just tried to relax as much as possible. From the Hard Rock we left around 10pm on buses that were to take us to the race starting line. Oh yes, did I mention the race start time was at midnight? Hence why the race is called Extraterrestrial Full Moon 51km.

We spent two hours on the bus as we drove into the desert in the dark. All attempts to take a nap on the bus failed.  At approximately midnight, the buses came to a halt in the middle of nowhere and we were told to get off the bus. We were with our friends Luis, Allie and Callie on this trip. Keith and I took our headlamps, gels, hand held water and we complied. We all gathered at a mailbox which was supposedly the starting line. The famous Black Mailbox they called it is in fact white. To this day, I do not understand the significance of the damn mailbox. As we all gathered around this mailbox, the race director instructed us to gather for a prerace photo. Then without a warning, she said “Ok GO!!”  So everyone started running on the extraterrestrial highway (Area 51) into the distance. We were so shocked. We figured to just follow the crowd. I also didn’t realize that the first 13 miles of this race was all significant uphill. The race started at 4523 feet and climbed to its peak of 5617 at mile 12.8. We ran 26 miles in a straight path on a canted highway with oncoming traffic shining their headlights at us. At the 26^th mile mark, there was a police car with a siren. We were supposed to turn around at the police car and run the additional 5.7 miles to reach the finish line at 31.7 miles.  Keith ran the entire race with me. It was a very difficult race for me. Partly because I had never run at midnight before. Partly because I was very ill. Partly because I hadn’t recovered fully from my recent marathon yet. There were so many reasons. I told myself that I would start very slow. I kept reminding myself I had a long way to go and if I wanted to be able to complete this race, I would have to be smart about it. We started climbing straight from mile 1 maintaining an 8:30 pace. At the time, I was having some knee trouble and it started to act up around mile 4. All I could think about was I had close to 28 miles to go with this knee pain. We kept trotting along. By mile 12, I was spent. We managed to maintain pace up to that point. I knew this wasn’t going to be a good day. I was sweating more than usual with chills. My knee was hurting. My hip from the cant in the road was now aching. I couldn’t eat anything because my stomach was not cooperating with me. I told Keith at mile 13 (at the top of the hill) that I needed to walk a few steps. After a few steps of gathering myself, we started up again. I forced myself to have a few powerade gummies. Our pace maintained in the 8:20-8:30s for a while and then slowed down a bit. My goal was to just finish at that point. I was not a happy camper. There was absolutely no “runners high” as they call it. There was no “yay this is so awesome!” I just wanted that darn finish line. We took a few more steps around mile 16-18. By mile 20, we were able to see the siren on the police car. Seeing the siren made me feel maybe my life was coming to an end. Maybe I had passed out and the ambulance was coming for me. But somehow the siren was getting further and further away. We foolishly thought we were close. Little did we know we had 6 more miles until the siren and turn around. The siren was so bright and the road was so dark and empty that you were able to see this red flashing light for 6 miles! This was by far the worst part of the race. I felt time had stopped. My garmin was not moving. How could this be? How this damn siren could seem so close but we never manage to reach it? How could my garmin be reading each tenth of a mile as if it was an eternity. I tried to just distract my thoughts during this part of the race. Tried to relax and not think of my pain or how awful I felt. Keith tried to make conversation and I just did not feel like talking. Poor guy! I can’t ever fully describe how awful this part of the race felt. Once we got to mile 26 and the siren, I had an orange slice and then we turned around and started running back. We knew we were in the “finishing” stretch. ONLY 5.7 miles to go! Once you’ve run a marathon distance already, another 10 km shouldn’t feel like a lot right? Umm, WRONG. We did quite a bit of walking the last several miles. I kept myself running and told myself I’d allow few steps of walking after each mile. It soon became a bit of walking on the half mile. The last mile I was able to pull the last bit of energy or whatever was left in me and make it to that finish line.

Finish time was 4:53 for 31.7 miles on a very difficult course, second overall female finisher. My prize was a rock. Yes you heard me, a rock. Keith got a rock too for finishing first in his age group. We boarded the bus at 4:53AM holding our rocks and ready for our two hour drive back to Las Vegas.  I can honestly say that this race experience will remain a part of me forever!

So back to the question, why do runners run when there’s so much misery and pain involved? I can only tell you why I started to run and why I continue to find beauty in this sport and the positive effects on my life. I am a full time orthodontist but my life consists of primarily work, sleep and running. Running is a huge part of my life. Endless hours are spent training and preparing. When runners aren’t running, well we’re talking about running. Talking training strategies, reading books on running, physical therapy, massages, recovery methods, cross training. You name it. Our lives are consumed by this fabulous sport.  Running has made me respect my body more. It has allowed me to see the human body as such a fierce machine. We have so much potential that’s just waiting to be unleashed. It’s amazing to see what used to seem difficult and almost impossible no longer feels that way. With the right fuel, the right training and support, we are capable of reaching goals we never thought possible.

We all face so many obstacles and struggles in life. We may be facing marital problems, health problems, addictions, family problems, financial difficulties or eating disorders just to name a few. We all face different struggles at various points in our lives. Running has helped me become a stronger individual. I am able to handle stress with a different attitude. Running has given me a much more positive outlook on life and enabled me to meet so many wonderful friends. My best friends in life are now all runners.  I always encourage my friends and family to put on a pair of running shoes and let this simple sport change your life. I know it was the best decision of my life by far!

My First (and Last) Trail Race

By Guest Blogger Jennie Sparrow

“What kind of gloves are those?”  I said this without even trying to hide my “what kind of idiot are you?” tone.  “You’d honestly be warmer wrapping a single layer of saran wrap around your hands; those are the thinnest things I’ve ever seen, “ I told her as we sat shivering.  We were in my friend Holly’s 20 year old BMW, a used car she’d had since we met at freshman orientation at Agnes Scott College in Atlanta.  We were awaiting the start of a trail half marathon in November in Athens, Georgia.  Unfortunately for us, it had been extremely cold and raining the entire week prior and we were in for a misty and cold running experience.  Holly explained to me that when she went to pick up her bib that morning, the chipper woman at registration asked, with the enthusiasm of a high school cheerleader, “Are you pre-registered?”  “’I wanted to tell her, ‘ Holly would later recount, ‘Would I BE here is I WASN’T?’ “ It was that cold and miserable. 

We looked at her gloves some more, with the curiosity of archeologists who had just stumbled on a rare find.   “I found them at my mom’s house last week.  I think I’ve had them for about 20 years, “ she said with a touch of pride.  As I thought about where I was 20 years ago, it came to me.  “BAND GLOVES!  Holly, are those the gloves you wore as a flag girl in marching band?”  She cracked a smile and yelled triumphantly, “YES!”  So here we were, sitting in a car and shivering, trying not the think about the fact that this was the most comfortable we would be in the next 3 hours, and all my friend had to keep her warm was band gloves.  It would be a long day.

About 6 weeks prior, I came across the advertisement for this race, an inaugural trail half marathon the weekend after Thanksgiving.  The registration fee was $25 and the race was 15 minutes from my house, a drive that involved exactly one turn.  Anyone who knows me knows that two words that describe me best are cheap and lazy.  The price and location were right, so I called my old college friend and encouraged her to drive down from Asheville, North Carolina, and do the race with me.  We were both recreational runners, but were running mainly shorter runs.  “We can do this, “ I told her with a confidence that bordered on arrogance.  “We’re running shorter runs now; we just need to build up to one long run of 10 miles in the next few weeks and we’ll be fine.”  This would be her first half marathon and my first trail race.   I thought back to my misplaced confidence as we were shivering in the car. 

Once we realized that the race was about to start with or without us, we got out of the car and headed to the starting line with the less than 100 other, obviously pre-registered, questionably sane people.  Will Chamberlain (not to be confused with Wilt, who was famous for other feats of endurance), the race director for all the races in the area, told us about the route.  As usual, I tuned out, because, let’s face it, unless you are planning on leading the race, you don’t really need to know where you are going.  And then he said what he said before every race, “Have a good race.  Have a safe race.”  And we were off.  (When Will died unexpectedly several years later, I would feel a sense of loss that took me by surprise.).

I gave Holly some last minute advice.  After all, it was her first half marathon.  As we headed into the woods and onto the single track trail, I had a terrible realization.  I.don’t.run.trails.  Somehow this fact had eluded me when I was filling out the registration form, doing my training exclusively on the roads, and even sitting in the car that morning.   I am horribly uncoordinated, not at all agile, and terrified of falling.  Not a good recipe for a trail runner.  I knew this would be a long day as I walked sideways down the first hill.  Holly, on the other hand, was not quite as fit as I was but a much better athlete.  She jogged along happily in front of me listening to her ipod.  She turned around and grinned, “Justin and I are bringing sexy back!”  I smiled back, “Good old JT!,” I said, trying to hide the fact that I was way out of my comfort zone. 

We froze, jogged, and occasionally walked sideways along that wet double loop for over 2 ½ hours.  We finished the race exhausted and beaten down, but in 3^rd and 4^th place in our age group!  If you ask us now, we may even admit that there were only 4 people in our age group.  I wish I had some sort of epiphany or life lesson to share, but I’m guessing you have to pay more than $25 to get one of those.   Although this was years ago and Holly and I are now thousands of miles apart, we still get a good laugh and will be forever bonded by that race that “seemed like a good idea at the time.”  On second thought, maybe I got my $25 worth after all.

GPS Watches: My How Far We've Come

(This Blog was originally published on The San Francisco Marathon website on 3/22/15)
By Keith Schlottman

Look around you at your next group run or race, and you will notice that nearly every runner is wearing a GPS watch or carrying a GPS-enabled smart phone.  As you run, you may be entertained (or annoyed) by a cacophony of musical beeps and digitized voices alerting the athletes about paces, distances, and even making motivational announcements.  Chances are, if you are a runner, you also bring a GPS along on your run.

Stephanie with her new GPS watch at a TRP group run

It wasn't so long ago that runners ran without GPS.  Although the US began development of the Global Positioning System in the 1970's, the first running watch with a GPS receiver did not hit the markets until 2003.  Prior to then, we used stopwatches to keep time but distances were generally just estimated from a map, or if you were an experienced runner, you might guess at your pace.  In 1984, Timex came out with an LCD watch targeting runners, and the Timex Ironman series dominated runners' wrists for the next couple of decades.

When Garmin released the first few GPS watches, they were bulky and anyone brave enough to wear one received a lot of smirks and oddball comments as fellow runners wondered why someone would use such a funny-looking watch.  I used a Garmin 201, which took up much of my forearm and created an odd feeling of weight imbalance on the run:

My trusty '201 was a bit large

The Garmin 201 also took about 5 minutes or more to acquire a signal, and the charging system was a bulky cable with an RS-232 connection.  But I loved it!  Garmin had an optional software system that you could download the run data to for analysis.  As a bona fide data junkie, this was treasure to me - the ability to examine split details, elevation gains, and distances at such a detailed level was simply fantastic.

Back then the GPS data was far less accurate.  The government actually had a program called Selective Availability which created an intentional error in GPS accuracy, based on the premise that only the military needed precision.  Some claimed that we didn't want the "bad guys" to be able to precisely target a missile strike using the GPS system.  This meant that my data often showed oddities, for example I might run a loop with the same start and finish point, yet the data would say I had climbed 300 feet and finished on the next street over!  Fortunately, in 2000 the SA system was abolished and our running watches are now much more accurate.

My Timex Ironman GPS collected plenty of data

Nevertheless, there is no way to make a GPS 100% accurate, and even with modern tools that attempt to correct for things such as ionospheric shifts and receiver quality, our current running watches will never give a perfect data set.  The error in GPS readings typically ranges around 1 - 2%, which means that when your GPS watch reads one mile, you might have actually gone as much as 50 - 100 feet shorter or farther.  Although current GPS watches often give distance readings to 3 decimal places, you should not treat them as perfect to that level of precision.  The same applies to elevation.  When you run the San Francisco Marathon in July, your GPS will do a fairly good job of showing you how flat the course actually is once you’re done – but it won’t be perfectly accurate.

When you race with your GPS, you will almost always find that your watch shows a different distance than the race's advertised distance.  For example, you might race a 5k, which technically should be about 3.10686 miles, but when you finish your watch displays a different reading.  Be careful about claiming "the course was long", or "the course was short", based on only your GPS.  If the race manager uses their own GPS to measure out the course, you can be certain the distance is off.  But if they obtain USATF Course Certification (and the best races always are Certified distances), the measurement process is different.  In fact USATF regulations prohibit course certification based on GPS.

My latest GPS watch is a Garmin FR620.  It's far lighter and thinner than my previous watches, and has modern features like a touchscreen, Bluetooth and Wifi connectivity - a super toy for a nerd!  But despite the impressive specs, it's still not perfect.  Sometimes the readings are misleading.  The photo below shows a mile split from a track workout in Flagstaff last year, but it does not represent my true mile time - what the watch does not show is that this is a combination of 200 meter speed intervals.

Reviewing mile splits on GPS watches is so easy

There are other limitations as well, including the occasional failure of signal acquisition.  Last year I completed the Boston Marathon only to discover my GPS said I had run only 17 miles - it lost satellite signals partway through the race, and never recovered.  And most runners with GPS have experienced a dead battery more than once.  This is especially true with smart phones, which can fairly rapidly lose power when running continuous GPS.

So they are not perfect, but GPS can be both fun and useful as a training aid.  They can encourage you to run farther - I recall that my first GPS caused me to realize that my regular 3-mile route was actually only 2.8, so I lengthened it.  They can provide a long-term data set to help you understand and objectively observe trends, including mileage as well as pace trends.  The software tools available now are extremely powerful.  Online logging systems like Garmin Connect, Strava, Training Peaks, etc. allow you to analyze the data in ways that would make a mathematician proud.

There are many GPS watch options currently available

There are a few runners out there who will encourage you to “ditch the GPS” and “run naked”, under the theory that the data will spoil your enjoyment of the run.  It’s also possible that excessive monitoring of splits during a run can cause you to actually run slower overall times.  But the GPS is here to stay and it is only going to get better.  In the near future you’re likely to see smaller and more accurate devices, or even perhaps heads-up displays of your data in your sunglasses.  Maybe you’ll be able to monitor teammates’ positions during a race in real time, or have the device alert you when a bathroom or water fountain is coming up.  There are plenty of opportunities for technology advancement in GPS.  The true joy of running comes from the sport itself, and the GPS data is just an additional way to enjoy this wonderful sport.

Keith Schlottman is a 2015 San Francisco Marathon Ambassador who lives in Tucson, Arizona.  He looks forward to testing his GPS accuracy for the 4^th time on the SFM course this year.  If you’d like to join him, use discount code TSFM2015KEITH to save $25!  Keith co-leads the Tucson Runners Project, a free running group for runners of all abilities, with his fiancé.

Running Phoenix

By Guest Blogger Mike Solan

It is 3 AM, February 28th, race day for The Phoenix Marathon. The alarm shrieks, not that I've been sleeping well, and I am wide awake immediately. I feel some trepidation being under trained, having had a big hole in my initial training plan. I try to rationalize that I have a strong aerobic base from bike riding and the enforced “long taper” is to my benefit...well, maybe. The plan is to walk through every other water stop alternating water and Gatorade, and take every gel offered although I am carrying my own, just in case. My goal is 4 hours which according to all the internet pace calculators is achievable based on my half marathon times. We'll see. I've often heard that no plan survives first contact with the enemy (the pavement?), and as someone once told me, “All you have is all you brought, there ain't no more.” So, did I bring enough? (BQ, Boston Qualification, for me is 4:10, but I want some margin for blisters, water, food, potty stops, tears, whatever.....)

I perform the usual pre-race eating, dressing and packing routines (banana, gel, hat, Gatorade, sunglasses, etc.), practiced on every recent Saturday long run. Things immediately go amiss traveling to the drop off. There are roadblocks set up for the race and I don't get to the proper drop off spot (self inflicted – trying to take a shortcut from the hotel). A number of us discover we are in line for the half marathon bus and take a ¾ mile run to the marathon buses as the clock ticks down to 5:30 AM and the last bus. We make it and see five more buses loading behind ours...plenty of time! A pre-boarding warm up run, great! I won't be cold on the bus.

The bus ride to the start takes forever. Where are they taking us, is this a 50 mile run? Off the bus I immediately get in line for the porta-potty.  Afterward, I take a walk around the drop off area, re-lace my shoes for the third time, take off my sweat pants and get in line for the potty again. I get nervous, leave the long line, and head for the weeds. I sit and eat my banana.  The PA call us to walk to the start. Once there, I do some lunges and leg swings. Whoops, time to head for the weeds again, darn Gatorade. I devour a gel and look for either the 3:50 or 4:00 pacer.  Hmm, the 4:00 is quite a bit ahead of the 3:50, what is this? I'm in front of both and decide to stay there. Starting my watch I see a funny screen. It is still dark, I only have my sunglasses and can't really see my watch very well with or without glasses. Somehow it is set to “other activities,” not run. How did that happen?  It gets fixed almost a full minute before the starting gun. Nervous much?

We are off and it is down hill for 5 miles. I keep telling myself to slow down, but only meet with marginal success.  People around me are talking, having a good time, and someone says, “every second above your pace at the start costs you three seconds on your pace in the last half.” Again, I try again to slow down and tell myself there are 26 one mile segments, just take them one at a time and enjoy it.  I listen to some podcasts. I'm saving the running music for the end when I will need a boost. At mile 5 there is a hill, ugh. I try to shorten my stride, lean a bit more forward, and accentuate my arm swings. I pass some folks, some pass me, and some start walking, yikes! There is an aid station with gel at mile 7, but I eat one of mine about mile 6.5. I was hungry and didn't realize the aid station was so close. I eat half of their gel at mile 7 and realize I am over eating, but that doesn't cause me any digestive problems...nervous energy burning calories?

I settle down, steady my pace, and then space out to a Freakonomics podcast. To further distract myself, I think about everyone at TRP I've had the pleasure to run with on Saturdays, trying to convince myself this is just another long Saturday run. That sort of works. I check my watch, change the screen and woops, I need to quickly hurdle one of the cones I'm about to hit.  A person on my left, running in the proper lane, inside the cones, applauds. No blood, no foul I think, but that was close. About mile 10 the 4:00 pacer is now just in front of me and I am determined to stay with her.  However, that means I have to catch her every time I walk through a water stop.  I slip into a mindless groove and pretty soon we are at the half marathon start. I'm feeling good, at this halfway point, but can I do all this again?

Just past the half marathon start, Florence is on the side of the road with a bottle of Perpetuem (Hammer endurance product). I awake up from my mindlessness, just in time to see her and grab the bottle. I carry it to the next water stop, drink about half and toss it. I don't think I needed it, and in the end don't need the additional gels I am carrying either. I'm running along side a graduate student in exercise physiology at ASU and entice her to talk about nutrition. Another young man joins us and we decide to tell jokes to pass the time. Of course at this point I can't remember any really funny ones. I manage to recall one and but tell it poorly (as I tell all jokes). His running mindless methodology is to concentrate on the feet of the people in front of him.  I can't do this well. I imagine how their toes look (as bad as mine?) and don't want to think about that. He stops at the next water stop and we never see him again. No more jokes, darn. About mile 17 the 3:50 pacer group comes around the 4:00 pace group and it gets crowded for a bit.  Quite a few folks try to accelerate and pick up their pace, but for most it proves futile. They fall back but most are then dropped from the 4:00 group also. However my new friend hangs in there with the 3:50 folks and I never see her again.  Soon there are only four runners in the 4:00 pack.

I'm feeling pretty good, staying well hydrated, getting enough calories, but my feet are starting to feel like hamburger, and I know this is costing me a toenail. Heading west on Brown Rd. we have a headwind to contend with. I try to figure out the percentage of the run remaining, but my math skills have deteriorated in direct proportion to the length of this run. I put the music on and try to keep my cadence up as I realize my pace has fallen off a bit.  I cross the 20 mile timing strip and stumble just a bit, but not seriously. I have a talk with myself about staying present and alert for cones, timing strips, etc. I have been running just behind the 4:00 pacer, but she is starting to swing the sign she is holding and I go around her, for safety. Since my longest training run was 20 miles, I tell myself every step is a PR.

I'm counting off the last miles. Five miles is about 45 minutes, plus water stops. It begins to go a bit quicker mentally. Hmm, I might just survive this, and try to imagine it is just like a 5 mile Saturday river path run, Craycroft to Campbell. One last water stop at mile 24. I walk a bit past the stop but chide myself as I am close to my goal time and don't want to lose time walking. At the first barricades, Jeff and Brenda are cheering me, and that lifts my spirits. I think my pace increases ever so slightly. At the finish line I see the clock, a bit over 4:00 (even though the pacer is behind me). BQ, Woot, Woot!!  Florence is at the end of the chute and I kiss her, sweat, snot and all. Jeff meets me in the finish area and is ecstatic with my results. He organizes a picture with both of us, and escorts me to the timer as I hobble along. I am still a bit ditsy. I do realize I have qualified for Boston, finished second in my age group, and am very happy. I have a silly grin for the picture.

At the awards ceremony I have recovered my wits enough to convince my fellow age groupers on the stage that we will not ascend the placement podiums, nor will we stand behind them as suggested. We will instead sit on our respective blocks in deference to our age and accomplishments. This was an easy sell, as even ascending the steps to the stage was hard on all of us.

Still hobbling, I begin dreading the next marathon I had signed up for at the end of May. That was to be my “A” race to qualify for Boston. No need now. However, a few days latter and I'm figuring out training plan adjustments, pacing levels, water stops etc. to take some minutes off my time. Can this be addictive?  Go figure!

Post-race celebration dinner

Lead Out

By Guest Blogger Mike Solan

A couple of years ago, I was suffering from both hypoxia and extreme muscle fatigue after a run up and down Rancho Vistoso Blvd. (and not the full Desert Classic course by any measure). I was no longer standing, but sitting on the curb, and about to assume the prone position by lying on the sidewalk, when I detected someone speaking to me. Amy had asked what my qualifying time was for Boston. “Huh?” was the best response I could muster. Even that took a fair amount of effort in my condition.  Jeff whipped out his smart phone and had the answer as I was still on the ground in agony. “You two must believe in unicorns too,” I wanted to say after I grasped the implication of her question. But I was way too exhausted to do anything but grunt a response, “Ugh!” I hadn't run 10 miles, was flat on my back, virtually in extremis, and the subject now is qualification times for a premier marathon event. Surely I must have left the rational world on this run. Was it on the hard ascent on Rancho Vistoso Blvd or the too speedy descent where I entered this altered reality. When would I return to earth as I knew it? Boston? Really? After a performance like that you link me and Boston? Really?

Time passes, and surprisingly, I live to actually race Arizona Distance Classic Half Marathon. Jeff and Amy go to Boston in 2013 and are through the finish area safely, before the explosion. There are further discussions of Boston qualification, over the next few months, but nothing that I take seriously. To put this in perspective, I will need to take almost 60 seconds off my best half marathon pace, and hold it for twice the distance, to qualify. (Note that this was a full on pace, probably more than everything I had, as I could not step up on a curb after the Desert Classic half. After some kind soul helped me up this particularly challenging curb, my quads locked up and I could not take another step for several minutes, blocking pedestrian traffic.) “Where are those unicorns now,” I am thinking again, as people rush by immobile me.

More time passes. Sometimes I run, sometimes I walk, and sometimes I hobble.  I enter a few races, some go well, some don't.  Sometimes I feel good and hit the finish line feeling strong. At IMS Arizona Marathon in Phoenix I hit the dreaded wall, and then hit the ground (twice, I think), and bleed my way to the finish where I am embraced by a paramedic. Over the next year I encounter hamstring problems, Achilles tendonitis, and plantar fasciitis. Additionally, I seem to hit a plateau with no pace improvements for months. Oh yes, I am now running low on toenails, and vow never to show my feet in public.

In June 2014, a dozen Tucsonans are on a week long bike ride in Colorado. After a moderately hard ride from Creede to Gunnison (105 miles and about 6,500ft climbing) one of the riders changes into his running shoes and asks if I have mine. My answer is “Yes, I have mine right here,” and I hoist a bottle of beer as I endeavor to keep my electrolytes balanced on a daily basis. We had briefly run together at the Meet Me Downtown 5K until he dusted me in the first 1K. When he returns, I hand him a cold one and talk turns to goals and accomplishments. He is anxious to share pain, I'm happy to share a beer.   He had qualified for Boston years ago and wants to do it again. Hmm, I think, I'm beginning to detect a pattern here. Another person thinks I can BQ based on no evidence of ability. However, another beer or two later, “OK, lets do this.”

Returning from Colorado, I look for some running groups that do not interfere with my Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday bicycle schedule. I bounce among some groups but mostly what I found were conflicts with my desired biking schedule. Then Amy adds me to the Tucson Runners Project Facebookpage.  With trepidation I attend a Wednesday track session and everyone was very welcoming. With only slightly less trepidation a Saturday run is attempted. Marti and Tom were great to run with.  Other TRP runs are attended, my Saturday bike ride is ditched and a consistent running schedule is developed. Can I work hard enough to Qualify for Boston with TRP? Maybe, but I need a plan.

Time to get serious and figure out how to do this. A literature review is begun consisting of Hanson's Marathon Method, Chi Running, 101 Simple Ways to be a Better Runner, Daniel's Running Formula, Run Faster from the 5K to the Marathon, The Marathoners, 52 Workouts 52 Weeks One Faster Runner, 16 Weeks to a Faster Marathon and Advanced Marathoning. I'm like a kid in a candy store, everything looks good until I read the next good thing. Confusion reigns.  Looking for proof of concept, I try to find out who has succeeded and what did they use. Unfortunately I can't discover a crisp answer, but come to realize no one is going to say, “Do this and you will succeed.” Different formulas will work for different folks.  TRI-FIT has a number of their folks attempting to qualify for Boston and they are using Advanced Marathoning as a basis for a marathon plan, so Advanced Marathoning (the last book I read) it is. Now the task is to rework one of the plans into the TRP running schedule, with a little bike riding and some sort of life other than training and sleeping. Scheduling weekend long runs are easy, Wednesday track can be VO2 max and lactate threshold runs, and Monday PM can be general aerobic conditioning or a medium distance run. But I'm out of week days, recovery runs aren't happening, so I justify easier bike rides as my recovery days and become known as a slacker to my biking friends...grrrr! But I have a plan and my priorities.

In the fall 2014, Saguaro is a great run for me, but A Mountain not so much. So, is this marathon training plan working, only working sometimes, am I destined to be always inconsistent, or am I delusional thinking I can qualify for Boston? I run the Veterans day course with TRP one Saturday, but A Mountain still weighs heavy on me and I do not enter (which I immediately regret the day after the event as you all did so well and seemed to have so much fun).  Next up is the TucsonMarathon. But wait, I'm leaving for Africa the Tuesday after Tucson.  I won't be able to to climb Kilimanjaro unless I'm at full strength and certainly won't be for a few weeks after a marathon. New plan, pass on the Tucson Marathon and sign up for The PhoenixMarathon. 

It is January, 60 days out from Phoenix, and I need to recover that one month hole in my training plan, with most of December spent in Africa.  I can't make it up but need to get back on track.  How will I get those 20 milers in without fear of injury from too much too fast? I fiddle with the training plan and to keep the panic at bay I develop a new mantra, “just run the plan.” I run 18 miles with 15 at my wishful thinking marathon pace. That night I'm in bed before 7 PM and limp for three days afterward. Next week I run 20 miles at an easy pace and my confidence soars. Perhaps I can complete a marathon. Another week, another twenty miler and yes, I can do this, although pace and consequently BQ is questionable.

Three weeks out from Phoenix I have a semiannual dermatology visit scheduled.  Doc says, “I don't like the looks of that,” and out come the surgical steel. Ten stitches in my shoulder later, the instructions are, “…. and no activity for three weeks. You may want to keep your arm in a sling to immobilize it the shoulder.” I gasp, then whine, and negotiate the “no activity” to two weeks, but utterly fail in my attempt to negotiate “no activity” to 10 days. The stitches will be removed the Thursday before Phoenix. Time for a new mantra, “a long taper is a good taper.”  Nevertheless, I cheat. In two days I walk as fast as I can for 7 miles. In 7 days, I'm on my bike and in 10 days I run ten miles at an easy pace. No effort is very hard, just ensuring all the body parts still work as my marathon debut looms ever closer. I keep repeating my taper mantra,“a long taper is a good taper.”...... to be continued.

Pacing a Friend to a BQ at the Phoenix Marathon

By Guest Blogger John Tarantino

I have a friend, Eliot from Colorado, who has been trying to qualify for the Boston Marathon the last couple of years. His qualifying time is 3:15. which he missed by 15 seconds last year at Phoenix.

I'm training for Boston this year and decided I could help pace Eliot and get my 16 mile run in also.

The day before the race we figured out the details. Try to meet between 17 and 18 mile mark.  I would run 6 miles from the finish line and then run 7:15 pace to the end with him.  To get my 16 miles in I turned around at the 26 mile mark and ran out and back a mile.

Day of the race I left the finish line at 7:50am and met Eliot at 17 and a half miles, 8:35am.  Right on schedule!  He had run a little too fast in the first half,1:33, target was 1:36.  We ran together and I was talking the whole way. At Mile 23  Eliot said he was tired.  I dismissed this and told him we had 20 minutes of work to do and he could be tired the rest of the day!! 

At mile 24  I was trying to keep his mind off of being tired and told Eliot to keep an eye on a guy with orange shorts in front of us.

At mile 25 I could feel him slipping.  We saw a lady with a Boston Marathon jacket on and I hollered at Eliot  " Do you want one of those jackets ?

Follow me we are almost there.  Here comes a downhill use it.  I can see the finish line!"  Anything positive came out of my mouth.  He passed the guy with the orange shorts with .1 to go.   Eliot crossed the line in 3:09:51.  This was over a 5 minute PR and of course a BQ for my friend : )

 

John Tarantino

Shelby Twp.,  Michigan

Red Hot Running

By Guest Blogger Jim Cady

As some of you know, I went to Moab, Utah this past weekend to run the "Moab Red Hot 33/55K Trail Race" put on by Grassroots Events (I did the 33k). Aptly named, the organization is small, casual, and has a small town feel.  Geared toward the ultra crowd, it is one of the first races in the racing season for the elite, culminating in over the top events like Wasatch, Leadville and Western States 100 mile mountain races.   They look at it as a tune-up... after all, it's only 34 miles in the 55k; (19m in the 33k for us wimps).   

 

Fortunately, they allow mere mortals to enter also, and the small size lets one rub elbows with the names usually only seen in magazines. Most of you know I prefer trails over road races.  The variety of terrain necessitates a continuously changing pace, stride and vision that you don't get on the road.  Every step has the potential to send you sliding face first across the rocks/dirt/sand.  (I saw lots of blood cross the finish line, and at least one runner with her arm in a sling.)  Since they are held in awesome geographic areas, they provide good excuses for road trips to some of the most beautiful parts of the country.   They are competitive, but the general attitude is very low key; and runners are highly likely to strike up a conversation while trudging up a hill that makes Tumamoc look like a  speed bump in the road.  There is kinship generated by community suffering. Think "endurance event" more than "race".   Generally there are 200-400 entrants and most normal folks are there to see if they can just make it; as opposed to make it fast.

 

If you haven't been to Moab, put it on your list.  It's a 9-10 hour drive (600 miles from Tucson) and sits between Arches National Monument and Canyonlands National Park.   Stunning scenery, a little quirky, and a Mecca for mountain biking, rock climbing, hiking, river rafting, OHV's and any variant of outdoor activity you can think of. 

 

The 33k had 430 entrants and 371 finishers.  There were only 10 in the 60-69 AG... and only 3 in the 70+.  Much different than your average road race!  Cumulative gain of 3000' and loss of 4000'.  The first 3 miles and the last 4 miles were on old mining roads and sandy washes.  (Note the sand is more like powdered sugar and goes through shoes and socks without impediment)  The middle section was on (and over) slick rock.  If you are not familiar, it's not really slick (at least when it's dry)... more like sandpaper.  Traction was good, but the slopes made the uphills painful, and the downhills treacherous.  Since the mountains are actually big masses of rock, there isn't really a trail as you might imagine.  The route was marked by strips of purple engineers tape tied onto shrubs or rocks every 50-100 yds.  Some time is lost looking for the next flag.  One of the risks is simply following the person in front of you.  Invariably, he gets lost and now there's a whole group off trail.   Race day was unusually warm (35 at the start, but quickly rose to near 70) and as with most trail events, there were only 3 aid stations; at miles 4, 8 and 15.  Big difference: when's the last time you had PB &J sandwiches, Coke and Kit Kat bars at a road race water stop?  Or chili, cornbread and micro-brew at the finish line?  Or an evening after party with more free beer and food? 

 

I finished in 4:22:03 (fifth in AG).  Effort and time was similar to a road marathon, but 7 miles shorter.  Highly recommended, but if possible, plan on staying in town several extra days to do some sightseeing, hiking, etc.   I was there 2 extra days, and could have easily spent a week.

 

Jim