Checklist in Progress

• Train, train, train - [97%]

• Review old race plans - [Done]

• Review old race reports - [Done]

• Write race plan - [Done]

• Obsess about things over which I have absolutely no control - [30%]

• Obsess about things over which I have complete control - [75%]

• Obsess about things which are technically someone else's problem - [45%]

• Pack my stuff - [2%]

• Start second guessing myself - [  ]

• Don't sleep through any alarms on November 17th - [  ]

• Race! - [  ]

• Celebrate! - [  ]

Sandbags Not Included

Philly minus four weeks, but who's counting? (answer: me)

People have started asking me what my time goal is for this race. The answer I have been giving is "Well, I don't have a time goal." Depending on who I am talking to, that answer is received in a number of different ways.

The non-runners, at least the ones who know me and are familiar with my running habits, usually ask something like "Well, don't you usually have to have some kind of goal pace for these things?" And then I explain that yes, that's how I've run these in the past. But somewhere about a year ago, I got the idea that I wanted to try training for and running a Marathon by effort instead of time. I want to run based on how I feel and run the best race I can, and not focus so much on a specific number at the end - or the specific numbers in the middle, for that matter.

Nearly all of those non-runners go "Ok... that makes sense. Cool! Good luck!"

The runners though, their follow-on question is usually a bit more variable. It ranges from "Oh, so you're just doing it as a long run, then?" to "Uhh.. what?" Then I go through the same follow-up spiel about effort vs time. At the other end of that, a few of them take the non-runner response path above.

A surprising number however, say something like "Ah... So I guess that's easier then, if you don't have a goal." or "So you're going to take it easy?" or my favorite "Ah.. so then if you have to bail out at the end, it isn't so bad."

That's when one of the more dramatic voices in the back of my head throws his arms to the sky, drops to his knees and screams "WHY?!?!?! OH WHY??? NOBODY UNDERSTANDS MEEEEE!!!" And he breaks down into one of those hitching, full-body, slow-motion sobbing fits, tearing at his shirt and his hair (yeah.. some of the voices in the back of my head have hair long enough to "tear at", go figure).

Meanwhile, on the outside I am patiently explaining that yes, I do have a goal, no it won't be easy, and bailing out is not part of the plan. My goal is to go out and run a fantastic race. I used the word race there - I am running a race. I am not going to be racing against a clock this time. I am going to be racing against some 12,000 other people. I intend to beat as many of them to the finish line as I can (even the ones I know and love, sorry!) There will be no taking it easy.. no sandbagging. I am just going to approach the strategic portion of it from a different angle than I have in the past. I believe I can run a better Marathon this way.

By this point, my internal drama queen is curled up on the ground in the fetal position, tears and snot running freely, mumbling something about a jelly doughnut and the pentagon. But I've managed a couple tentative ok's from that other runner, perhaps a few nods. They might not completely buy it, but at least the idea is no longer dismissed.

This is not a new or novel concept. Lots of people do it. It's just new to me. It is kind of an experiment I've been running on myself since mid-spring. It seems a little foreign when there's usually weeks or months of focus on the big, hairy, acronym-worthy "Marathon Goal Pace". Instead, I have been focused on how to read my body and gauge my effort. It's different, which is interesting and exciting. It might completely backfire on me, but I won't know until I try.

Car2Go Austin Marathon Relay 2013

The one thing that's been consistent about this race since 2005 is that there's always a surprise. This year had a few of them.

For one, the weather was fantastic. As far as that goes, the weather all weekend was fantastic. It was a nice little taste of what's coming, neatly packaged with one foot in summer and the other in fall. The weather has never been like that for this race. I won't delude myself into thinking the heat is over until next year, but it was a good reminder that it will, in fact, cool off. Pretty soon I'll be complaining about forgetting my gloves or some crazy stuff like that.

Secondly, for the first time in the history of this relay race, there was a baton involved. That's right - an actual tube, carried by each runner through their entire leg, and handed off to the next person on the team. It was the timing chip for your team, too. In years past, there have been a couple variations on wrist bands being used as batons, which gave the general feeling of a relay. And then there was last year's race, which did away with the concept of a "relay" altogether (we'll leave it at that). This time around though, we got batons. Some teams got creative and decorated it with flowing ribbons, or made a sling that they could use to "wear" it with. We just ran with it. I was a skeptic at first, but after half a mile or so with a baton in my hand, I felt empowered. Not only that, the race was split into six legs of equal distance, so every runner ran the same course...

...except for the first leg (which I happened to be running). That was the third surprise. Though I guess it really shouldn't have been a surprise - for some reason this event always seems to have a distance snafu on some part of the course. Somewhere between the first and second legs, they got it fixed, but all (or at least most) of the first leg runners ran a little shorter. We ran about 3.9 miles while the other five legs had 4.37 ish.

Our team (the SiLabs SloMos) placed 13th in the "Just for Fun" category with a combined 3:27:16. And it was fun! Between the beautiful weather, running around like a track star with a baton in my hand, and catching up with a couple good friends, It was great. I also got to run fast, which if you read my last post, is very exciting these days. During my not-quite-four-mile portion of the race, I contributed 23:47 to our total time. For me, right now, I think falls into the realm of "hauling buttock". My buttocks have both reserved the right to disagree with me tomorrow, but for now all three of us concur that it was a good day.

The hardest runs are the easy runs

Perhaps "hardest" is the wrong word to use there. They're mentally difficult. At this point in these training cycles, an interesting thing begins to happen. It's all in my head. I get less and less excited about going on the runs that are marked on the schedule as "easy" days. Yet I get more and more excited about doing the runs that are considered "hard". I look forward to the quality workouts as they get increasingly difficult, and the long uns as they get increasingly longer.

Steady state? Tempo? Hills? Cool! 1.5 hours of running before dawn on a Saturday, with another 1.5 after the sun comes up? Let's go! Forty-five minutes "easy"? Ugh.

I'm not sure why this happens. There's always a threshold where the harder workouts just get really rewarding and the others turn into something very chore-like.

Thankfully, I've had a fair amount of company on many of those runs this time, including "runnin' the dog" with Adam an Moses on Sunday mornings, "lunchtime buddy" Brent on the T-days, and even "surprise guest" Gundy on a couple of random occasions. The company makes those runs much more palatable.

Now with all that company, the only run that's a (mental) challenge is the Monday "medium long run". It's hard to fit that one into the schedule. Lately, it has been 10 miles which have to be completed before ~6:15 AM. That means the alarm has to be set for roughly waytoofreakin'earlytobewakinguponaMondaymorningo'clock.

It's shorter tomorrow, so I am going to accept a couple additional hours of precious sleep and run at lunch. If that doesn't work out for whatever reason, I will go tomorrow evening. However, it goes back to normal next week.

So I'm looking for volunteers! Anyone want to wake up well before the buttcrack of dawn to keep me feeling accountable and motivated? You don't really have to run - you can ride a bike if you want. Or a Razor scooter. Anything without a motor. But you have to show up, or give at least 24 hours notice. It doesn't work if you flake at the last minute. Think about it. Yes, you. Did the crickets outside just get louder? Well anyway, time for bed.

Running for Health

I have some catching up to do. I promised myself I'd be posting at least once a week, but it's been a couple weeks since my last one. I won't make excuses.. there's been other things on my mind, and writing became a very low priority.

Which as it turns out, actually sort of relates to the topic of this post!

Running for health. A lot of people "run for their health". And most of the time, when they say this they are referring to their physical health. They want to lose weight, get fit, stave off a heart attack, or just be prepared for when the zombies show up (the fast ones anyway). I've never run for any of those reasons, except for the zombie thing. And usually when someone makes a comment implying that I must be so healthy because I run all the time, I am quick to correct them by pointing out the poor food choices I made for the previous three or four days, and my sleeping habits, during those times when I am not, in fact, running.

But I think I am going to stop doing that.

I was reminded last week (and this week as well) just how powerful a good run can be for my mental health. That is certainly one of the reasons I run. Whether I am stressed out, angry, grieving, frustrated, anxious, nervous or feeling any number of other negative emotions... being alone with my thoughts on a good run just seems to help me find the center again. And I can do it in public. I can go out with my angry face on, and (I imagine) people just think I'm really working hard. I can have tears and snot streaming down my face and (again, I imagine) that it just looks like sweat and allergies. Or maybe they aren't fooled, and I just look like a nut. Regardless, when I am running I don't actually care.

I'm not saying that's the way it works for everyone. For me though... yeah, I suppose I run for my health. My health and the zombie thing. And occasionally for better standings in online race records. Maybe a few other reasons too.

Choices

Ahh... I am going to miss my long run on Saturday. I mean that in two of the many possible interpretations - miss as in "not be in attendance" and as in "feel the absence of". It is one of my favorites this weekend, the one they lovingly call the "Run from hell, up North". People may be tired of hearing me say it, but I will forever call it by the name Chris christened it with, which is "Left on Mesa".

They call it the Run from Hell, because if you take a cross section from the side, turn it 90 degrees, duplicate it, flip the copy, and then give it an awesome-looking purple-and-black color scheme, it will remind you of the first time you used the lathe in 8th-grade wood shop:

You had spectacular plans for that turning project. It was going to be the most beautiful salad bowl the world had ever seen. The thing you later called a "candlestick" was hellish, indeed. Yes, when I say "you" I mean you. No, I do not mean "me". My Lilliputian baluster was dope.

But, I digress. Certain runners have been known to call me a masochist for enjoying this particular run. Of course, certain non-runners have been known to call me a masochist for enjoying any run, so... it's all relative. I like it. It's scenic. It's interesting. There's always deer and stuff.

Why will I miss (not be in attendance) it? I will be out of town, in a not-really-foreign-but-might-as-well-be-foreign city, where I'd rather not have to make an attempt to wake up early and run eighteen miles on my own. I made that same attempt last summer, and was only about 75% successful.

So this time, I have choices!

The not-likely-to-happen choice: Go run the candlestick on my own. It would require a level of planning and forethought that I'm simply not equipped for that early in the morning. Dropping off water bottles in strategic locations, remembering where I left the water and using it... most of all, not getting lost... I have trouble enough staying on course when there's people to follow and a map in my hand. The only thing I know for certain is that at some point I would make a left a Mesa, and that would be the correct turn (possibly at an incorrect intersection).

The think-about-it choice: Map a simple route from my house to some point about nine miles from here, with at least two public water fountains or convenience stores on it. Bring a water bottle and some cash in a ziploc baggie, and restock on fluids mid-run.

The boring choice: Do a 3-mile out-and-back 6 times and leave some water on the porch. Ummm.. no.

The most-likely-to-happen choice: Have no plan, run aimlessly around areas I am very familiar with until the total is 18 miles, bring a bottle, and take advantage of any water I can find along the way.

Let There be Grapes!

I may have picked the wrong week to give up sitting. Or maybe it was the right week. It is hard to tell. I hopped on what appears to be a small bandwagon and got a stand-up desk at work. Mainly in the hopes that it might help me avoid any more of the psoas-induced three-day lockups I've experienced three or four times in the past two years.¹ So far, I like it. I didn't go for any transition period. I just stood all week. One side effect: tired legs. I am (mostly) sure I'll get over that. Another side effect: I feel like I walk differently now. Sort of in a good way... I feel kind of "light". I don't know how else to describe that. Sort of like gravity isn't quite as strong anymore. Then again, I seem to be tripping over my own feet² more often, which is a constant reminder that gravity is still out there.

Why might it have been the wrong week for this? Well, we also started working a little harder on some of our runs this week, and I'm just more tired in general. Wednesday's workout was not particularly difficult as a workout, but it became particularly difficult in the heat. Saturday's long run was in more forgiving weather, but we had a bit of extra speed thrown in at the end to even things out.

Back to Wednesday though. According to the great composer Wolfram Alpha³, it was 103 degrees when we started, but at least it had cooled down to a refreshing 37.5⁴ by the time it was over, and the humidity was low. How hot is that? It's hot enough that I could smell myself. While I was running. That's quite a feat, considering that there was no breeze, and my nose generally leads the way. I am just glad I remembered my training towel this week.⁵ Why am I talking about the heat? Not to complain, but merely to set up the next thought, which is...

...And then an angel showed up at a water stop with a plastic tub full of frozen grapes. OMG. Please note the use of "OMG" here. I do not throw around my OMG's lightly. In fact, I don't throw them around at all. This might be the first time I've ever OMG'd anything in a public setting. But O.M.G. Those grapes were fantastic! They were like little purple spheres of heaven. Anyhow, the rest of the run, which wasn't much longer, was more tolerable because of the grapes. And it must be some kind of "thing"⁶, since someone had a tub of them after the long run on Saturday as well. They were just as heavenly then. I may have to stock up on frozen grapes.

I started this post off by talking about standing all week. Then I got all diverted figuring out how to make footnotes, then off on my grape tangent and now I can't remember where I was going with that original train of thought. So... I shall rename the post and say good night.

1. This involves a general inability to walk, stand, sit or lie down comfortably, and exactly 322 muttered curses during any given 24-hour period.
2. Or perhaps it's the feet of the tiny invisible people whose only purpose in life is to trip me.
3. Not really a composer's name.
4. Celsius.
5. My training towel is the towel I use on my car seat to protect it from the funk of forty-thousand steps. If it weren't for my training towel, I'd probably have to set fire to my car in some non-suspicious way after most of these summer runs.⁷
6. I am usually one of the last to know about "thing"s. Plus, I needed another footnote between the previous one and the next one.
7. So I could still collect the insurance money, of course.