It was the best of races, it was the worst of races.
Ok, I got that over with. But it is what I kept thinking coming out of the weekend as I limped around waiting for my quads to recover enough to walk like a normal human being again.
To get it over with up front: 4:04:16. That put me 7114/31,401 finishers. I guess that when you put it that way it doesn't sound quite so bad.
It was a warm day in Chicago, unseasonably warm. I would guess that it was probably around 65° at the start and probably close to 85° by the time I crossed the finish line. But that's not even as warm as most of my training runs were (how nice 65 degrees would have felt in July and August here) so I wasn't worried when I saw the forecast.
The race was amazingly well organized. I don't know how you accomplish something like that; there were 31,000 finishers. Add to that some 3,000 non-finshers and 11,000 no-shows. So if everyone who signed up had run, that would have been over 45,000 people! Everything ran like clockwork. I took the subway in the morning; it was crowded pretty much entirely with marathon participants. I got off at the Harrison station and made my way into the park. From there it was pretty easy (I had studied all of the material carefully to figure out where everything was) to find my way to the gear check tent and then around to the C corral where I was seeded along with the other 3:40 - 4:00 runners. The corral was relatively uncrowded, though it filled up pretty well by race start time. Still it wasn't shoulder-to-shoulder like most race starts I've been in are.
We got the national anthem sung by a couple of country music stars appearing at the country music festival in town (shows how much I know about country music that I didn't even recognize their names). And then there were several luminaries in the starter's box. I remember Datham Ritzheim and Cat Osterman (Ron, you should have been there ;-) by name. I looked for her as I passed the starting line, but wasn't able to pick her out.
The race started fine; it took me about 5 minutes to reach the starting line I guess from the gun. 10 from the elite start, and all of the clocks along the route started with the elites, so they were running about 9+ minutes ahead of my watch. The race starts north, out of Millennium park and then across the river before turning back to the south and then eventually back north again on a quick tour of the heart of downtown Chicago. It's spectacular and the crowds are amazing, easily six and seven people deep and lining every bridge and overpass along the way.
The energy of those early miles is astonishing. You really have to think consciously about holding back. Though there are enough people running in the street around you that you don't have to work too hard to set a reasonable pace. And it's not like the races in Austin where people who fully intend to walk the entire race like to get up at the front of the starting gate, and you have to spend the first couple of miles weaving around them. Everyone around you is more or less running your pace, so you can just settle in and run with the crowd.
I took it relatively easy and probably ran the first couple of miles around 8:45. It was so crowded that I never saw the mile markers, it wasn't until mile 3 that I first saw a marker. I got my split there at 25:29, which put me right at about 1:30 off my goal pace. That was fine; I fully intended to lose a couple of minutes during the early part of the race, with the hope that if things went well, I would get it back later.
Things went well for the first half of the race. I stuck to my hydration and nutrition plan, the water stops were all two full city blocks long with gatorade in the first block and water in the second (both sides). I made sure to drink at every single one of them and took my GU dutifully every 30 minutes. My early splits were good:
3 -- 25:29
4 -- 8:03 - 33:32
5 -- 7:54 - 41:25
6 -- 8:16 - 49:42
7 -- 7:37 - 57:19
8 -- 7:57 - 1:05:15
10 -- 16:03 - 1:21:18
11 -- 8:18 - 1:29:36
12 -- 8:11 - 1:37:47
13 -- 7:58 - 1:45:11
This part of the race, after weaving through downtown, heads north on La Salle street and goes up along the lake to near Wrigley field before turning back south on Broadway. That is a really great part of town; feels very much like a university area with streets lined with shops and then later row houses. Eventually you find your way back downtown and then cross the river and head due west. That's about the halfway point, and the race was going well.
The splits from there on tell a different tale:
14 -- 8:58 - 1:54:43
15 -- 7:50 - 2:02:13
16 -- 8:29 - 2:11:14
17 -- 8:56 - 2:19:59
18 -- 9:56 - 2:29:16
19 -- 9:39 - 2:39:35
20 -- 11:02 - 2:50:18
21 -- 12:30 - 3:03:08
I stopped taking splits at that point. Looking back, it's pretty easy to see where the wheels came off. As to why, I'm still not sure. All I know is that long about mile 15 or 16 my hips locked up and my left knee started hurting. I tried moving forward as well as I could, but quickly things devolved into a death march where I tried to run for as long as I could before I had to start walking again. The last four miles were particularly long and painful. As you can see, it took me 1:01 to run the last 5.2 miles. Of course using the word "run" here is a stretch.
I didn't see Patty or Mel along the way, though they saw me several times. It's just hard when you're running and the crowds are so deep along the way. I kept looking but it wasn't until around mile 25 that I caught sight of them. So I didn't get my recharge of nutrition stuff, but that didn't have an effect on how my race went. Everything fell apart before any of that would have made a difference.
Was it the heat? The nutrition/hydration? Did I not train hard enough? I can't look back and say that I really have any idea. Maybe I'm just not cut out to run long distances like that? Anyway, I did the training (the hardest I've ever trained for any race) and felt like I was ready. The heat was there, and it would have been nice to have a 45° to 60° day, but would that have made all the difference? The humidity didn't seem overly high and the breeze that blew out of the south felt nice from time to time. Also the first half of the race was mostly in shade due to the tall buildings.
Anyway, under the heading, "you learn more when things go badly," (my mantra, by the way ;-) this should have been a great learning experience for me. I have no idea what I really learned, though. I will say that I was able to appreciate a lot of things, like how much fun I had in Chicago with Patty and Melissa and how much I enjoyed the experience of running a big city marathon like this. Overall, it's definitely an experience that I won't ever forget and maybe someday I'll go back and do it again. Though I need some time right now to forget the pain before I'll be able to convince myself to try to do something like that again.
I should say something here about "Tis a far far better thing I do..." but I can't think of any good way of working that in. What I will say is that I really appreciate all of the help and support I got along the way on this journey. Dave, Scott and Jim carried me through so many of those long runs in the July and August heat. It's hard to imagine having made it through the training without that support. And Patty really supported me through the whole effort. I'm sure that those 5:30 wake-up alarms were more than annoying to her as was having to live with this grouchy, wreck of a man during those high-mileage weeks. And she and Mel were troopers on race day, suffering in the heat, hoping subway trains and cabs trying to keep ever ahead of me. I guess that, in the end, like with the rest of life, it really is all about the people around you.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Chicago
Well, here it is just three days out from Chicago. Come Sunday morning at 8:00 I'll be lined up in corral C and ready to go. It's been a long summer of early mornings, slogging through long runs, painful tempo runs, sore tired legs and plenty of "what was I thinking?" moments. But now it all comes down to 3-4 hours on Sunday morning and then it will be over.
I guess I knew what I was getting into when I signed up last April but still, nothing quite prepared me for long runs in the heat of July and August nor for those 5:30 wake up calls from my alarm watch telling me that sleep time was over and I had to get up and moving.
I guess I'm pretty nervous about the race right now. The taper has been kind of strange. I don't feel like I did a great job with my running, but still I managed to get in a decent amount of mileage generally around 24/week over the last 4 weeks, down from a peak of 41 in week 10 (out of 18 total). Then about a week ago, my legs got this strange soreness that continues to stick around. It's really not soreness, more like the fatigue that I feel late in a long run; it's all up in my hips as kind of feels like almost sharp pain moving longitudinally down my legs. I don't know what to make of that, but I guess it's something I'll have to deal with.
I keep telling myself, "I've put in the training, all that's left to do is relax and enjoy the weekend." If it's not there on race day, there's not much I can do, so just enjoy being in Chicago and the thought that I at least accomplished hard training through the Austin summer.
They have a tracking site setup for the race. If any of my one or two readers were to want to track my progress, they could go to this URL:
http://www.doitsports.com/results/MSG-signup.tcl?sub_event_id=2161
and get updates of my progress along the way.
Right now the weather forecasts are for a low on Sunday morning of around 63 and a high of 78. That's a bit warmer than I would prefer (55 and 68 would be about perfect) but not too bad. I've run the Austin Marathon three times, first was a 3:55 (2003) then a 3:38 (2006) and then a 3:45 (2007). My goal for this race is to hit my Boston qualifying time, which is 3:30. I think that on a good day I should be able to do it, but we'll have to see how Sunday goes.
My race strategy (to the extent that it matters; they're usually out the door in the first few miles for me) is to try to take it easy early on. There will be pace groups, but I'm not going to try to hang with the 3:30 group from the get go. I'm afraid that if I'm out of the gate right at 8:00/mile, that won't be the best strategy. It usually takes my body 20 minutes or so to settle into a rhythm, so if my first few miles are 9:00 or 8:30, I'm not going to worry. But I hope to get to the 10 mile point at no worse than 1:22. The next 10 miles are the "hang on" part of the race. I'd like to be right at 8:00 for these if I can still do that. That would get me to 20 at 2:42 or better. That leaves me 48 minutes for the final 10k to arrive at 3:30. I really don't think that I can go faster than a 48 minute 10 k at that point, and 50 is more reasonable.
The other thing is nutrition. I'm planning to take a GU every 30 minutes, regardless of how I feel. By the end of the race I'll be sick of the sweetness and texture, but it really does help me to keep my legs moving. I'm also hoping that Patty can meet me from time to time along the course and I'm planning to load her up with baggies of pretzels and fig newtons; I know that late in the race I usually really crave something salty and substantial. This will be better nutrition than I've done in my previous marathons, so I hope that it helps.
So there you have it. At a minimum I should have a fun weekend in Chicago with Patty and her sister Missy. That I'm looking forward to. And I will run the race and do my best to enjoy it, regardless of the outcome.
I guess I knew what I was getting into when I signed up last April but still, nothing quite prepared me for long runs in the heat of July and August nor for those 5:30 wake up calls from my alarm watch telling me that sleep time was over and I had to get up and moving.
I guess I'm pretty nervous about the race right now. The taper has been kind of strange. I don't feel like I did a great job with my running, but still I managed to get in a decent amount of mileage generally around 24/week over the last 4 weeks, down from a peak of 41 in week 10 (out of 18 total). Then about a week ago, my legs got this strange soreness that continues to stick around. It's really not soreness, more like the fatigue that I feel late in a long run; it's all up in my hips as kind of feels like almost sharp pain moving longitudinally down my legs. I don't know what to make of that, but I guess it's something I'll have to deal with.
I keep telling myself, "I've put in the training, all that's left to do is relax and enjoy the weekend." If it's not there on race day, there's not much I can do, so just enjoy being in Chicago and the thought that I at least accomplished hard training through the Austin summer.
They have a tracking site setup for the race. If any of my one or two readers were to want to track my progress, they could go to this URL:
http://www.doitsports.com/results/MSG-signup.tcl?sub_event_id=2161
and get updates of my progress along the way.
Right now the weather forecasts are for a low on Sunday morning of around 63 and a high of 78. That's a bit warmer than I would prefer (55 and 68 would be about perfect) but not too bad. I've run the Austin Marathon three times, first was a 3:55 (2003) then a 3:38 (2006) and then a 3:45 (2007). My goal for this race is to hit my Boston qualifying time, which is 3:30. I think that on a good day I should be able to do it, but we'll have to see how Sunday goes.
My race strategy (to the extent that it matters; they're usually out the door in the first few miles for me) is to try to take it easy early on. There will be pace groups, but I'm not going to try to hang with the 3:30 group from the get go. I'm afraid that if I'm out of the gate right at 8:00/mile, that won't be the best strategy. It usually takes my body 20 minutes or so to settle into a rhythm, so if my first few miles are 9:00 or 8:30, I'm not going to worry. But I hope to get to the 10 mile point at no worse than 1:22. The next 10 miles are the "hang on" part of the race. I'd like to be right at 8:00 for these if I can still do that. That would get me to 20 at 2:42 or better. That leaves me 48 minutes for the final 10k to arrive at 3:30. I really don't think that I can go faster than a 48 minute 10 k at that point, and 50 is more reasonable.
The other thing is nutrition. I'm planning to take a GU every 30 minutes, regardless of how I feel. By the end of the race I'll be sick of the sweetness and texture, but it really does help me to keep my legs moving. I'm also hoping that Patty can meet me from time to time along the course and I'm planning to load her up with baggies of pretzels and fig newtons; I know that late in the race I usually really crave something salty and substantial. This will be better nutrition than I've done in my previous marathons, so I hope that it helps.
So there you have it. At a minimum I should have a fun weekend in Chicago with Patty and her sister Missy. That I'm looking forward to. And I will run the race and do my best to enjoy it, regardless of the outcome.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Fall
Well, fall actually came early this year to Austin. Normally we can count on September continuing as a part of full-fledged summer with highs in the high 90's and plenty of humidity. In fact, the highest temperatures that I remember in my 20 years in Austin have come in September (112, 110, and 108 degrees) during the last several years.
Growing up in Missouri, I was used to the idea that once you got through August, summer was over and you could look forward to substantially cooler temperatures. Yes, sometimes we had what we referred to as "indian summer" when it would be hot for a handful of days in September or even October, but the cool was always there, waiting to come right back. This has been one of the hardest adjustments for me to make to living in Austin. Summer generally stretches through September and even into the middle of October. You can't generally count on cool weather up until Halloween or so.
Anyway, after Ike moved through the state last weekend and we got no rain, only hot humid air, a cold front pushed in from the north. (I imagine that it was responsible for providing the impetus to push Ike off to the east and out of here so quickly.) So after Sunday's run, which was kind of alternatively hot an humid and then seemingly cooler and drier, we woke up Monday to nice cool fall air. And while this might not be so rare for mid September in general, the fact that it's stayed now for over a week is definitely not normal.
Fall really changes things around here. Maybe it's just in my state of mind, but when I wake up with the windows open and have to think about wearing long pants and shoes with socks, I know that things have changed. All summer, I spend in shorts and sandals, so even having to think about these things in the morning is a change. Also I haven't worn a shirt for a run probably since April or May. Now I begin to think about whether maybe I should? It's even a bit chilly in the morning as I head out the door, though I know that fifteen minutes into the run I'll begin to regret any decision to wear a shirt.
Fall also changes my thinking when it comes to eating. It opens up so many possibilities for other ingredients and for finally turning on the oven without any regrets. I love the flavors of fall, I think of mushrooms: the porcini and cremini flavoring soups or pastas, I think of apples, fresh Jonathans baked up in a pie or apple pancake, I think of moving back from white wine (which gets me through the summer here) and back into reds, Zinfandel and Cotes du Rhone, and most of all, I look forward to that first taste of butternut squash, usually flavored with sage, made up into a cannelloni or lasagne, the layers of flavor of the squash, the cheese and the cream all mixing together in a blessed sweet/savory taste that just screams out "fall" when it hits my tongue.
It's also a time to move from the light beers of summer into the heavier fall and winter beers: like oktoberfest, porter and stout, soon heading into the specialty holiday beers; to move from the cold cereal breakfasts of summer into hot oatmeal, farina and rice pudding breakfasts meant to warm you from the inside out. To work in the kitchen in the evening with the windows open, and note the way that the sound travels so much farther and clearer in the cool air.
Right now I'm thinking about hot baguettes coming out of the oven, dark on the outside, listening to the crust crackle and the loaves cool to room temperature. About maybe getting the rye starter out of the fridge and working to revive it, all so I can have the taste of that super complex whole wheat/rye bread that goes so well with the cool fall mornings and evenings. Or bread pudding, hot out of the oven, dotted with plump raisins.
Ok, now I've made myself hungry. I guess I'll have to stop thinking and go home and do some baking. Too bad smell doesn't translate into 1's and 0's...
Growing up in Missouri, I was used to the idea that once you got through August, summer was over and you could look forward to substantially cooler temperatures. Yes, sometimes we had what we referred to as "indian summer" when it would be hot for a handful of days in September or even October, but the cool was always there, waiting to come right back. This has been one of the hardest adjustments for me to make to living in Austin. Summer generally stretches through September and even into the middle of October. You can't generally count on cool weather up until Halloween or so.
Anyway, after Ike moved through the state last weekend and we got no rain, only hot humid air, a cold front pushed in from the north. (I imagine that it was responsible for providing the impetus to push Ike off to the east and out of here so quickly.) So after Sunday's run, which was kind of alternatively hot an humid and then seemingly cooler and drier, we woke up Monday to nice cool fall air. And while this might not be so rare for mid September in general, the fact that it's stayed now for over a week is definitely not normal.
Fall really changes things around here. Maybe it's just in my state of mind, but when I wake up with the windows open and have to think about wearing long pants and shoes with socks, I know that things have changed. All summer, I spend in shorts and sandals, so even having to think about these things in the morning is a change. Also I haven't worn a shirt for a run probably since April or May. Now I begin to think about whether maybe I should? It's even a bit chilly in the morning as I head out the door, though I know that fifteen minutes into the run I'll begin to regret any decision to wear a shirt.
Fall also changes my thinking when it comes to eating. It opens up so many possibilities for other ingredients and for finally turning on the oven without any regrets. I love the flavors of fall, I think of mushrooms: the porcini and cremini flavoring soups or pastas, I think of apples, fresh Jonathans baked up in a pie or apple pancake, I think of moving back from white wine (which gets me through the summer here) and back into reds, Zinfandel and Cotes du Rhone, and most of all, I look forward to that first taste of butternut squash, usually flavored with sage, made up into a cannelloni or lasagne, the layers of flavor of the squash, the cheese and the cream all mixing together in a blessed sweet/savory taste that just screams out "fall" when it hits my tongue.
It's also a time to move from the light beers of summer into the heavier fall and winter beers: like oktoberfest, porter and stout, soon heading into the specialty holiday beers; to move from the cold cereal breakfasts of summer into hot oatmeal, farina and rice pudding breakfasts meant to warm you from the inside out. To work in the kitchen in the evening with the windows open, and note the way that the sound travels so much farther and clearer in the cool air.
Right now I'm thinking about hot baguettes coming out of the oven, dark on the outside, listening to the crust crackle and the loaves cool to room temperature. About maybe getting the rye starter out of the fridge and working to revive it, all so I can have the taste of that super complex whole wheat/rye bread that goes so well with the cool fall mornings and evenings. Or bread pudding, hot out of the oven, dotted with plump raisins.
Ok, now I've made myself hungry. I guess I'll have to stop thinking and go home and do some baking. Too bad smell doesn't translate into 1's and 0's...
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Remembering Rick Wright
I would be remiss to not say something about the death of Rick Wright. He was not a personal friend of course, but stil,l as a founding member of Pink Floyd, he certainly had an impact on my life and has made many, many moments of it more enjoyable.
Anyway, I can't say anything significant about Rick that hasn't already been said by the various critics and fans. And I'm sure I can't say it nearly as well as many of them have said it. All I can offer is my own personal perspective of the beauty and warmth that I think his work brought into my life.
I never put a lot of thought into where the sound that was Pink Floyd really came from. I always knew that it was Roger who wrote the complex, depressing, "the world is out to get us all" lyrics and that David Gilmour's guitar could take me places that I never even imagined existed. And that, as with many great bands, the synergy of what the group produced far surpassed anything that any one of the individuals might be capable of on their own.
However, for some reason, it's Pink Floyd's music, of all the rock that I cut my teeth on back in my younger years, that still sticks with me today; that I can still listen to and feel the same sort of excitement and anticipation as I did when I was younger. Don't get me wrong, I still love Zeppelin, The Who and Rainbow, but it's not the same. (Ok, The Stones I still dig in a big way too, but that's a different kind of trip; and they were post-high school anyway). I know every lick of every song. But even so, with Floyd the music can still carry me to places that are somewhere else, somewhere outside of my body and provide me the opportunity to touch the cosmos, if only for a moment. (And I don't even need any sort of extracurriculars to help me get there any more.)
I never really put a lot of thought into it, other than the idea that Floyd had more elements of classical music than any other band I listened to. And I think that that sort of underlying structure of musical complexity ahead of any lyrical content is really what I'm getting at, or what I react to. (In fact, in some early Floyd I am still convinced that the actual content of the lyrics was secondary to the sound of the words, almost as if they were another instrument to be played as a part of the musical whole. Think "Mathilda Mother" or "Echos:"
Overhead the albatross
hangs motionless upon the air
and deep beneath the rolling waves
in labryinths of coral caves...
And with "The Great Gig in the Sky" they took this to its logical conclusion where the lyrics aren't even actual words, just another instrument in the mix, taking you to places of which actual words could only dream.)
But in reflection over the years, I realized that it was Wright who was probably in many ways responsible for this underlying depth and colour of the music. His palette of different sounds and moods created the complex underpinnings and backdrop against which all of Floyd's various melodies, whether soaring, gripping, majestic or just plain trippy could do their thing. I still want to have "A Saucerful of Secrets" played at my funeral.
Now, to be honest, I'm a huge Gilmour fan. And his guitar is like a force of the cosmos to me; I'm not sure that there's ever been a better guitar song in the history of the planet than "Comfortably Numb." (It's a dream of mine still to see him live in concert some day.) But I think that for the continuing depth of experience that I get out of Floyd's music, I owe much to Rick Wright.
Rest in peace, Rick. May your soul soar through the universe for eternity, the way your music allowed the rest of us to feel what that's like...
Anyway, I can't say anything significant about Rick that hasn't already been said by the various critics and fans. And I'm sure I can't say it nearly as well as many of them have said it. All I can offer is my own personal perspective of the beauty and warmth that I think his work brought into my life.
I never put a lot of thought into where the sound that was Pink Floyd really came from. I always knew that it was Roger who wrote the complex, depressing, "the world is out to get us all" lyrics and that David Gilmour's guitar could take me places that I never even imagined existed. And that, as with many great bands, the synergy of what the group produced far surpassed anything that any one of the individuals might be capable of on their own.
However, for some reason, it's Pink Floyd's music, of all the rock that I cut my teeth on back in my younger years, that still sticks with me today; that I can still listen to and feel the same sort of excitement and anticipation as I did when I was younger. Don't get me wrong, I still love Zeppelin, The Who and Rainbow, but it's not the same. (Ok, The Stones I still dig in a big way too, but that's a different kind of trip; and they were post-high school anyway). I know every lick of every song. But even so, with Floyd the music can still carry me to places that are somewhere else, somewhere outside of my body and provide me the opportunity to touch the cosmos, if only for a moment. (And I don't even need any sort of extracurriculars to help me get there any more.)
I never really put a lot of thought into it, other than the idea that Floyd had more elements of classical music than any other band I listened to. And I think that that sort of underlying structure of musical complexity ahead of any lyrical content is really what I'm getting at, or what I react to. (In fact, in some early Floyd I am still convinced that the actual content of the lyrics was secondary to the sound of the words, almost as if they were another instrument to be played as a part of the musical whole. Think "Mathilda Mother" or "Echos:"
Overhead the albatross
hangs motionless upon the air
and deep beneath the rolling waves
in labryinths of coral caves...
And with "The Great Gig in the Sky" they took this to its logical conclusion where the lyrics aren't even actual words, just another instrument in the mix, taking you to places of which actual words could only dream.)
But in reflection over the years, I realized that it was Wright who was probably in many ways responsible for this underlying depth and colour of the music. His palette of different sounds and moods created the complex underpinnings and backdrop against which all of Floyd's various melodies, whether soaring, gripping, majestic or just plain trippy could do their thing. I still want to have "A Saucerful of Secrets" played at my funeral.
Now, to be honest, I'm a huge Gilmour fan. And his guitar is like a force of the cosmos to me; I'm not sure that there's ever been a better guitar song in the history of the planet than "Comfortably Numb." (It's a dream of mine still to see him live in concert some day.) But I think that for the continuing depth of experience that I get out of Floyd's music, I owe much to Rick Wright.
Rest in peace, Rick. May your soul soar through the universe for eternity, the way your music allowed the rest of us to feel what that's like...
Monday, September 15, 2008
Of hurricanes and long runs
Ike had us in his sights for a while, but I've lived here long enough to know that we would be fine. All of those gulf hurricanes either make a hard right and rip up through east Texas or a hard left and go down to tear up Mexico. In Ike's case, it was the former. We had been warned about wind gusts of up to 50 mph and lots of rain, but as the storm track moved eastward, I had the sense that not much was going to happen here in Austin.
As it turned out, I was right. We could have used a few inches of rain, but all we got was hot, humid air. Really humid. "Sinking air" they call it, it comes on the west side of a hurricane if you're far enough away to not get caught in the rain bands. We had it with Rita a few years back; fortunately this time we didn't have the 108 degree temperatures that Rita brought, just 97 or so, which is pretty managable for this point in September.
I got up early Sunday to run. Jim said he was going to meet me at 7:30, planning to run 13. I just wanted to get 2+ hours in, somewhere in the 14-16 range. It was very hard to get out of bed; perhaps the hardest morning I've had yet. I don't know why, but it just was. I finally got moving and out of the house around 6:30. I got to Zilker and out of the car at about 6:50 and started my run. It's still pretty dark at that time; I had decided to do an out-and-back on the greenbelt to burn enough time until Jim arrived. That gave me about 40 minutes total to run.
The greenbelt is an amazing place at that time of day. There was just enough light to see, otherwise it's crazy to try running there, the rocks will do you in for sure. But in the sort of quarter-light of the dawn, it's really special to get back into the woods, with noone else around. Only bird sounds to keep you company, that and the occasional scurrying mamal. No owls this morning, but I did hear a red-tailed hawk off in the distance as I came back to the park.
I passed one guy on the way out and then again on the way back. But other than that I had the place to myself. I managed to not fall along the way, and just enjoyed some time in nature (in spite of the humidity). I made it back to the parking lot just in time to catch Jim getting out of his car.
We headed out on the eleven mile loop to Longhorn Dam and back. I figured that I had probably gotten 3+ miles in on the greenbelt, so with 11 more I'd be at my 14 for the day. While the humidity bore down on us, at times it would seem to strangely vanish. I knew that a cool front was supposed to be coming in, but I couldn't explain how it could feel oppressively humid at one moment and then cooler and dryer a few minutes later.
I felt pretty good along the way. At times we upped the tempo and coming back to the Mopac bridge Jim ran away from me. I had to keep telling myself it was ok to let him go. My tempo was at about 8:00, according to the quarter mile markers along the path, and I really didn't want to go any faster than that. He was probably hitting around 7:30 there towards the end.
I caught him at the water stop and we ran on together back to Zilker. He left me to do another 3 mile loop, but I was happy to be done and headed back to the car. I was more worn out than I had expected, but this is likely to be one of my last, if not my very last long run, so that put me in a good mood.
No hurricane, no rain. But the promise of a mid-September cold front and a cool week ahead. It's hard to ask for more (or at least expect it!) at this time of year.
As it turned out, I was right. We could have used a few inches of rain, but all we got was hot, humid air. Really humid. "Sinking air" they call it, it comes on the west side of a hurricane if you're far enough away to not get caught in the rain bands. We had it with Rita a few years back; fortunately this time we didn't have the 108 degree temperatures that Rita brought, just 97 or so, which is pretty managable for this point in September.
I got up early Sunday to run. Jim said he was going to meet me at 7:30, planning to run 13. I just wanted to get 2+ hours in, somewhere in the 14-16 range. It was very hard to get out of bed; perhaps the hardest morning I've had yet. I don't know why, but it just was. I finally got moving and out of the house around 6:30. I got to Zilker and out of the car at about 6:50 and started my run. It's still pretty dark at that time; I had decided to do an out-and-back on the greenbelt to burn enough time until Jim arrived. That gave me about 40 minutes total to run.
The greenbelt is an amazing place at that time of day. There was just enough light to see, otherwise it's crazy to try running there, the rocks will do you in for sure. But in the sort of quarter-light of the dawn, it's really special to get back into the woods, with noone else around. Only bird sounds to keep you company, that and the occasional scurrying mamal. No owls this morning, but I did hear a red-tailed hawk off in the distance as I came back to the park.
I passed one guy on the way out and then again on the way back. But other than that I had the place to myself. I managed to not fall along the way, and just enjoyed some time in nature (in spite of the humidity). I made it back to the parking lot just in time to catch Jim getting out of his car.
We headed out on the eleven mile loop to Longhorn Dam and back. I figured that I had probably gotten 3+ miles in on the greenbelt, so with 11 more I'd be at my 14 for the day. While the humidity bore down on us, at times it would seem to strangely vanish. I knew that a cool front was supposed to be coming in, but I couldn't explain how it could feel oppressively humid at one moment and then cooler and dryer a few minutes later.
I felt pretty good along the way. At times we upped the tempo and coming back to the Mopac bridge Jim ran away from me. I had to keep telling myself it was ok to let him go. My tempo was at about 8:00, according to the quarter mile markers along the path, and I really didn't want to go any faster than that. He was probably hitting around 7:30 there towards the end.
I caught him at the water stop and we ran on together back to Zilker. He left me to do another 3 mile loop, but I was happy to be done and headed back to the car. I was more worn out than I had expected, but this is likely to be one of my last, if not my very last long run, so that put me in a good mood.
No hurricane, no rain. But the promise of a mid-September cold front and a cool week ahead. It's hard to ask for more (or at least expect it!) at this time of year.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Swim Pactice
I've been a bad boy when it comes to swimming. And it shows...
Since the swim center is closed during the month of August every year, I take that month off and try to swim on my own. I had the best of intentions this year, but somehow it didn't really happen. I swam a little bit, about once a week. But not much more than that.
Now that UT is open again, I've started trying to get back in the habit of going in the mornings. Now that I'm back at a job in an office again, the noon practices really aren't an option. So if I'm going to swim, it will have to be in the mornings. But somehow, with my Tuesday and Thursday mornings taken up with early runs, I'm finding it difficult to convince myself to get up in time for swim practice at 6:30.
I did make it today. This is the third time in the last three weeks, only once a week. I'm not going to improve my swimming like that, but let's get through the marathon and then we'll see. I have some big ideas to improve my swimming this winter, but I'm discovering that it's really hard to do that while doing serious running too.
Anyway, I guess because the pool isn't in big use these days, probably because now that the Olympics are over the men and women aren't as interested in killing themselves every day, so the pool isn't in such demand. So this is the second of the three workouts I've attended that Whitney has used the whole pool for some sort of creative workout. Today it was 500 yard "snakes" i.e. starting at one end of the pool and swimming a 25 in one lane and then moving to the next lane and so on covering 20 lanes by the time it's all over (i.e. all lanes in the pool except for the two outermost). Then out of the water at one end and walk back to the other end and do it all over again.
We did nine of these snakes total. If memory serves me they were:
In the end, it was over 5000 yards. Even for a Whitney workout, that's pretty ambitious. Usually if we cross the 5000 threshold it means we're a) swimming a lot of free and b) not spending much time resting. Those were definitely both true for this workout!
Since the swim center is closed during the month of August every year, I take that month off and try to swim on my own. I had the best of intentions this year, but somehow it didn't really happen. I swam a little bit, about once a week. But not much more than that.
Now that UT is open again, I've started trying to get back in the habit of going in the mornings. Now that I'm back at a job in an office again, the noon practices really aren't an option. So if I'm going to swim, it will have to be in the mornings. But somehow, with my Tuesday and Thursday mornings taken up with early runs, I'm finding it difficult to convince myself to get up in time for swim practice at 6:30.
I did make it today. This is the third time in the last three weeks, only once a week. I'm not going to improve my swimming like that, but let's get through the marathon and then we'll see. I have some big ideas to improve my swimming this winter, but I'm discovering that it's really hard to do that while doing serious running too.
Anyway, I guess because the pool isn't in big use these days, probably because now that the Olympics are over the men and women aren't as interested in killing themselves every day, so the pool isn't in such demand. So this is the second of the three workouts I've attended that Whitney has used the whole pool for some sort of creative workout. Today it was 500 yard "snakes" i.e. starting at one end of the pool and swimming a 25 in one lane and then moving to the next lane and so on covering 20 lanes by the time it's all over (i.e. all lanes in the pool except for the two outermost). Then out of the water at one end and walk back to the other end and do it all over again.
We did nine of these snakes total. If memory serves me they were:
- swim
- 100 strong / 25 easy
- IM
- pull, 3 breaths per lap
- kick with fins
- 25 best / 25 worst (I did free/back)
- 100 free / 25 fast, IM order
- pull, breathe every 5th
- fast, for time.
In the end, it was over 5000 yards. Even for a Whitney workout, that's pretty ambitious. Usually if we cross the 5000 threshold it means we're a) swimming a lot of free and b) not spending much time resting. Those were definitely both true for this workout!
Monday, September 8, 2008
Another Sunday, another long run...
Sunday, September 7 2008, 2+ hours
After a week "off" so to speak, it was back on for this week. I ended up skipping the Tuesday run, after racing The Human Race on Sunday, because I was so tired as it turned out. But I managed to get 8 1/2 or so in on Thursday and another 5+ on Friday, so I was doing ok. I scheduled myself for another 2+ hour run, hoping to get in the 14-15 mile range. I was also planning to try some race pace running on this run, as in 2-3 miles warmup and then most of the rest of it at around my 8:00/mile race pace.
Jim was doing a supported ride on the Longhorn course and Scott's still out with back issues, but Dave said that he'd meet me at 7:30 and run. So my plan was to get going at around 6:30 and then only have about an hour left when I met up with Dave. Of course my plans never quite work out.
I got moving a little later than I had hoped. I had managed to hold my Saturday night drinking down in the "quite a bit" range, which is better then the "a lot" or "way too much" ranges that I frequently end up in. Still it was difficult to get up when the alarm went off at 5:50. I will say that during the night, I had woken up to hear a barred owl off in the distance, just down the greenbelt from where we live. The weather has been pretty nice lately, so I opened my window before going back to bed so I could listen to him. I don't know why, but hearing owls at night always gives me comfort. I think of it as a good omen. And here in town it's pretty rare to hear them, generally it's only screech owls, and even those you don't hear every day. So hearing him, combined with the fact that during my Thurday morning run I had run right beneath a great horned owl down in Old Enfield, and I was feeling pretty good. Still, the 5:50 wakeup was tough.
Especially when you consider that I didn't get out of bed until about 6:15. So by the time I ate and got packed, out the door and down to Zilker, it was 6:45 before I was on the trail. Still, that gave me 45 minutes to rack up some miles before I had to meet Dave. I did the S. 1st Street to Mopac loop, for about 5 miles total. (Ok, it's 4.77 according to mapmyrun.com.)
I had planned to stick with taking one GU every 30 minutes today, regardless of how I felt. I'm realizing that I really do get a kick of energy out of those things, it just lags them by 20 minutes or so. During the marathon, I'm convinced that I'll do a lot better if I make sure to take one every half hour, hoping that it will provide me with the energy I need to hold on for the last hour or so. So today was a test.
It was just getting light as I headed out on the trail. Right now, 6:45 is just about the exact time when there's finally more light from the sky than from the street lights. It will be getting later as we move into the fall of course, but for today getting on the trail right then was perfect. There were actually quite a lot of other people out there as well. I'm not the only crazy one, apparently.
The run was good, I checked my pace a time or two. I don't have a fancy Garmin or anything, I just kind of know my pace. And on the trail, there are markers every quarter mile, so it's easy to gauge how fast your going, so long as you know where the markers are and remember to look at your watch (and remember what you read on your watch). I wasn't down around 8:00 yet, more like 8:45 to 9:00, but that's ok for early in the run. Dave will make me speed up when he shows up, that I know.
I met up with him back at Barton at about 7:30. We head out, this time in the other direction. I suggest doing the I-35 loop with him (about 7 miles) and that's fine for him. So we move along, enjoying the scenery (trees, lake, girls) and talking the usual talk about kids, school, jobs, etc. Not long after the first water stop, I'm working to keep up with him. While my ambient pace seems to settle in around 8:15-8:30, I think that Dave's is naturally more like 7:40. So he's always pulling me along (or I'm always pulling him back, depending upon how you look at it). Anyway, I take a couple of time checks along the way and we're crusing along at something like 7:40/mile. A little too fast, but still it's better to be pushing myself today I decide.
I'm good about sticking with my GU/half hour plan, and I think that it helps. Still at times he runs away from me and has to wait for me to catch up. Finally, just after we cross the lake at I35, he tells me that he's going to run a little pace back to the S. 1st street water stop. So I let him go (it's better for us both, believe me ;-) and try to stay at my eight minute pace as best I can. (There are no markers on this part of the trail.)
We meet up at the water stop, but I've decided to cross the bridge and go back the long way, which will give me three more miles instead of just one. That's easier (psychologically anyway) than running the one mile and then picking up the other two on an out-and-back. I feel good, and manage to keep the pace pretty well the rest of the way. Every time check comes in right at 8:00, so I'm happy with my overall performance.
In the end it was 2:10, 14 miles and 4 GUs. I think that I kept my pace pretty well. And in retrospect here from a couple of days, I think that I definitely feel that. I'm more worn out than I've been from most of my long runs. It gave me some confidence for race day, but I definitely don't want to do that again.
Also, my left achilles tendon is quite sore. This is the closest thing that I've felt to an injury during all of my training. I've been wondering, as tired and worn down as I've felt over the last month or so, how long my body could keep doing this and not start to pay a price. I may have an answer now. I'll keep off of it and only run a little bit at first to see how it responds. At this point I think that I have my training and endurance there for the race. It's most important to stay healthy up until race day.
After a week "off" so to speak, it was back on for this week. I ended up skipping the Tuesday run, after racing The Human Race on Sunday, because I was so tired as it turned out. But I managed to get 8 1/2 or so in on Thursday and another 5+ on Friday, so I was doing ok. I scheduled myself for another 2+ hour run, hoping to get in the 14-15 mile range. I was also planning to try some race pace running on this run, as in 2-3 miles warmup and then most of the rest of it at around my 8:00/mile race pace.
Jim was doing a supported ride on the Longhorn course and Scott's still out with back issues, but Dave said that he'd meet me at 7:30 and run. So my plan was to get going at around 6:30 and then only have about an hour left when I met up with Dave. Of course my plans never quite work out.
I got moving a little later than I had hoped. I had managed to hold my Saturday night drinking down in the "quite a bit" range, which is better then the "a lot" or "way too much" ranges that I frequently end up in. Still it was difficult to get up when the alarm went off at 5:50. I will say that during the night, I had woken up to hear a barred owl off in the distance, just down the greenbelt from where we live. The weather has been pretty nice lately, so I opened my window before going back to bed so I could listen to him. I don't know why, but hearing owls at night always gives me comfort. I think of it as a good omen. And here in town it's pretty rare to hear them, generally it's only screech owls, and even those you don't hear every day. So hearing him, combined with the fact that during my Thurday morning run I had run right beneath a great horned owl down in Old Enfield, and I was feeling pretty good. Still, the 5:50 wakeup was tough.
Especially when you consider that I didn't get out of bed until about 6:15. So by the time I ate and got packed, out the door and down to Zilker, it was 6:45 before I was on the trail. Still, that gave me 45 minutes to rack up some miles before I had to meet Dave. I did the S. 1st Street to Mopac loop, for about 5 miles total. (Ok, it's 4.77 according to mapmyrun.com.)
I had planned to stick with taking one GU every 30 minutes today, regardless of how I felt. I'm realizing that I really do get a kick of energy out of those things, it just lags them by 20 minutes or so. During the marathon, I'm convinced that I'll do a lot better if I make sure to take one every half hour, hoping that it will provide me with the energy I need to hold on for the last hour or so. So today was a test.
It was just getting light as I headed out on the trail. Right now, 6:45 is just about the exact time when there's finally more light from the sky than from the street lights. It will be getting later as we move into the fall of course, but for today getting on the trail right then was perfect. There were actually quite a lot of other people out there as well. I'm not the only crazy one, apparently.
The run was good, I checked my pace a time or two. I don't have a fancy Garmin or anything, I just kind of know my pace. And on the trail, there are markers every quarter mile, so it's easy to gauge how fast your going, so long as you know where the markers are and remember to look at your watch (and remember what you read on your watch). I wasn't down around 8:00 yet, more like 8:45 to 9:00, but that's ok for early in the run. Dave will make me speed up when he shows up, that I know.
I met up with him back at Barton at about 7:30. We head out, this time in the other direction. I suggest doing the I-35 loop with him (about 7 miles) and that's fine for him. So we move along, enjoying the scenery (trees, lake, girls) and talking the usual talk about kids, school, jobs, etc. Not long after the first water stop, I'm working to keep up with him. While my ambient pace seems to settle in around 8:15-8:30, I think that Dave's is naturally more like 7:40. So he's always pulling me along (or I'm always pulling him back, depending upon how you look at it). Anyway, I take a couple of time checks along the way and we're crusing along at something like 7:40/mile. A little too fast, but still it's better to be pushing myself today I decide.
I'm good about sticking with my GU/half hour plan, and I think that it helps. Still at times he runs away from me and has to wait for me to catch up. Finally, just after we cross the lake at I35, he tells me that he's going to run a little pace back to the S. 1st street water stop. So I let him go (it's better for us both, believe me ;-) and try to stay at my eight minute pace as best I can. (There are no markers on this part of the trail.)
We meet up at the water stop, but I've decided to cross the bridge and go back the long way, which will give me three more miles instead of just one. That's easier (psychologically anyway) than running the one mile and then picking up the other two on an out-and-back. I feel good, and manage to keep the pace pretty well the rest of the way. Every time check comes in right at 8:00, so I'm happy with my overall performance.
In the end it was 2:10, 14 miles and 4 GUs. I think that I kept my pace pretty well. And in retrospect here from a couple of days, I think that I definitely feel that. I'm more worn out than I've been from most of my long runs. It gave me some confidence for race day, but I definitely don't want to do that again.
Also, my left achilles tendon is quite sore. This is the closest thing that I've felt to an injury during all of my training. I've been wondering, as tired and worn down as I've felt over the last month or so, how long my body could keep doing this and not start to pay a price. I may have an answer now. I'll keep off of it and only run a little bit at first to see how it responds. At this point I think that I have my training and endurance there for the race. It's most important to stay healthy up until race day.
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