Nice warm day on Sunday, so it was off to the races!
It was the NYRR Join the Voices 5 Miler in Central Park for me. And it turned out to be a good day.
I don’t think I can oversell the weather. It was 44° at the start according to the race results, but it felt much warmer. Last year, this race was a 10k and it was, according to my notes (!), 30°. It was like a summer day. With a few thousand emaciated people waiting to hurl themselves down the same trodden road they’ve run many times before.
I met my friend John up here in Croton — we had an extended email exchange of what time to leave. He is a much faster runner than I, and therefore likes to leave much later than I do. I wanted to leave at 6:30am. I think he wanted to leave at 7am. We settled at 6:40am. Met a few more Taconics, then went down in separate cars for logistical reasons too boring to articulate.
In the city, we found some awesome on-street parking, went to Starbucks to get a coffee. It took about a million years to get served, and then we were running late. And not a good late either. It was my idea to park on the west side, because the start of the race was on the west side. Unfortunately, bag drop was quite close to the — dare I say it — east side. I had a rather non-optional need to use the portapotty, so I was getting a little stressed. But wound up making it to the start with a few minutes to spare, but absolutely no warm up or no spare time.
One of the great things about doing more of these NYRR races is there is always a friendly group at the start. On this race, I was in the first corale, and there were no elites, so we were right up at the starting line. I hung out with a bunch of the Taconics — the older guys seem to know just about everyone, and it’s a blast to get a sense of kinship before the gun goes off. Once it starts, no more talking alas as we’re all trying to not drop dead from a lack of oxygen.
The start was great for me, even as some of my friends found it a bit jammed out of the gate. I was shooting for a 6:31 pace, and I came in at 6:14 for the first mile. A little fast, but I was feeling good. The second mile has the dreaded cat hill in it, and I tried to push keep my effort steady, and wond up with a 6:28. Mile 3 is the flattest mile in the course, and I did a 6:18. Mile 4. Oh man. Mile 4. Rolling hills. In a 10k these west side hills seem to be pretty pleasant. In this shorter race, I was just freaking hating it. Pushing as hard as I could, but feeling like I was standing still. I was trying thing of the distance left in the race, and just work towards finishing. I was working towards quitting running. 6:34 pace for this mile. Off my target.
Now I was in the final mile. Bring it home. Leave nothing out there. Bullshit. I would have left it all out there for a cheeseburger and a cup of coffee. After 3 minutes into the mile, I felt like I was hitting my pace and I started to look for the “800m to go ” no sign. Good grief. They put out a 800m sign, right? Where the hell is it? When will this race end? These shorter distances should be easier. I think I’m hitting the wall. In mile 5. This race sucks.
I kept running and someone said “quarter mile to go” so I though “no signs” and realized I was getting close. Tried to open it up. Finished in 32:22. Exhausted.
Found some friends afterwards. One friend, another Greg (we have many Gregs in the Taconics) said “man, that was a PR for you, no?” And I was all like “no way man, I feel like crap. No way.” But then I went to my phone and checked my spreadsheet and yes, yes it was — about 25 seconds faster than I ran the Portugal Day 5 miler in May. Nice.
But still, I felt like crap. So I guess I don’t know what I learned. Leave earlier? Warm up? Ug.
Afterwards we all went to a bar and hung out as a team. It was fantastic. Good friends, good times.
I guess I am happy — I feel like a better strategy would have been a slower few seconds in the first couple of miles, and then a more even pace throughout. I’ll have to figure out how to do that sometime.
I don’t know if I mentioned it, but I pulled my hamstring last summer. Since then, I’ve been taking it easy, cycling, etc. This last week I got hit by a car. Not to make anything too easy, I went to the track on Thursday (car was Tuesday) and felt like absolute crap. Tried to do an 800 and stopped after about 300. Not so good. I realized the only way I was really going to kick start my training was to enter a race. So kick I did.
I’m in Los Angeles for the autoshow. The weather is nice here. Apparently it’s nice here a lot. I’m surprised more people don’t live here. Well, if a lot of people moved here I’m sure they’d just drive everywhere and clog up the freeways. I’m glad that doesn’t happen.
Today I got up and ran the Get Fit Be Fit 5k, which went really well. This is my first race since my injury last summer, and as I may have mentioned, I am a little off my game having recently been hit by a car. That being said, this is my first morning here so I woke up early with some energy. Had a few bowls of fruit loops and headed off to the start.
There was both a 10k and a 5k to run, and I couldn’t decide what to do. The 5k is stressful but it’s over quickly. The 10k feels like more my distance, but this course was two loops of the 5k course, so I knew it would be too easy to just drop out after a loop. So 5k it was.
The race was managed by Frontrunners Los Angles, a local running store. As far as I know, there is no relationship between the store and the New York running team. I stopped by the store to preregister and was told the race was super flat. I felt I was lied to.
The Taconics have no van
I did an easy 20 minute warmup and ran a little bit with the folks doing the 10k. Got a good look at the course and some of the folks involved. I will say this about LA — they know how to put on a race. The road closures were perfect, there was a freaking expo with about 15 booths. I couldn’t believe it. Really nice. Before the race, they had a local trainer and a microphone tell everyone to line up for their pre-race warm up. She had everyone run in place and touch their toes. I’ve been told never to run in place and I can’t touch my toes, so I did a bunch of strides with a few other competitive runners out there.
I wanted to do 6:20s throughout, which is what my training plan last summer suggested. However, I was in much better shape last summer than I am now, but I thought I might as well see what happens.
The gun went off. And we were off. Did pretty well for the first mile, 6:19. Then I looked ahead of me and saw something that looked very much like a hill. And indeed it was. Not a huge hill, like 100′ or so. But man it was hard. I was thinking to myself “self, this is why you should be thrilled to live in Croton. Hills. This is what you came for. No, self, actually you came to run a flat fast 5k so you can feel like it’s OK to take time off and recover. You can do a good time. Hill or no hill. Don’t look at your watch. Moderate your effort. Look around. Start counting Starbucks. That’ll pass the time.”
Mile 2: 6:33. That’s no good. But even before the split we had started to head downhill. And I was feeling better. OK, not better, but closer to the end.
The race had thinned out a bit at this point and I ran with another guy for about 200 meters. Then he faded a little bit and I pushed through. Mile 3 6:19. There was someone counting off splits, and he said “19:11″ as I passed. I realized I had a chance to get it under 20. And I did – 19:55. Average pace of 6:22. I was 2nd in my division.
So now I guess I’m competitive. ”SECOND? Who the heck was in front of me who was in their 40s?” I looked at the results and the guy who beat mean ran a 17:22. OK, that’s fast. Bless him.
I’m happy. I’m not in great shape, but I did get under 20. My back still hurts a little bit from the car accident, but I’m glad I was able to hold it together. Leaving the race, I realized I had no pictures to really reflect the scene. Then I saw a van. From a local running club. Painted. With the local running club logo. I guess there’s some money out here with the nice weather.
I was in the city doing a project and managed to sneak out of work around 9am to go for a run. By “sneak out” I mean leave work after telling everyone, my client, my co-workers, the cleaners, everyone, that I was leaving. I feel so guilty about sneaking out that I am about the worst in the world at doing it.
I’ve got a good strategy for mid-day runs in the city. I belong to New York Sports Club up here in Croton, and can therefore, it seems, stop in at any club in the city and use the locker room. I guess there is other stuff to do at a gym other than change, shower and poop, but for me, I’ve got my routine down. As I felt guilty about leaving work, I thought about taking my phone on the run. What if there is some sort of work crisis and they need someone to tell jokes about it? Or what if there is some sort of city scene that needs recording, say a homeless man painting a landscape or a young child pick-pocketing a playmate? My phone has a camera, and I could capture those sort of things. Alas, I couldn’t find just the right pocket in my shorts for the phone. We’ve all been through it. I’m not going to put it in that gross inside pocket. The front pocket is too deep and it’ll just flop around and make me nuts, and the back outside pocket, which has some sort of punitive elastic in it, seems too tight or not big enough or something. And I felt guilty, so I had to start running and get out there and get back to work and do nothing.
Nice run on the westside highway, bunch of sub 8 minute miles. Felt great. Not a lot of people out there. I guess a lot of people were working. At 9am on a Tuesday. Can you imagine?
Headed back to the gym, took 34th street, crossed at 9th avenue and got hit by a van. Seriously. I was crossing the street, and there is this freaking van making a turn. He can see me, for sure, right? Wait, he isn’t stopping. He’ll stop later, right. Wow, maybe I should stop. Wait, it’s too late. This freaking guy is going to freaking hit me. I can’t believe it. This fucking van is going to hit me. He really fucking is. And then he fucking did.
He knocked me over. All I could think was “get up or he’s going to run you over.” OK, not so rational, but I got up. He stopped. I approached the driver side window. And I began screaming at him like a freaking lunatic. I always imagined I’d be somewhat passive when dealing with aggressive van-driving runner hitters. But I wasn’t. I suggested that he pull his car over and that we would consult with law enforcement about his continued participation in free society. He suggested that what was done was done and that the police wouldn’t be able to undo it. I suggested we discuss that with them, and again suggested he pull over, and asked him if, like some sort of barbarian, he was going to leave the scene of an accident.
He pulled over. It was a busy intersection. There was a police car there in about 30 seconds. They suggested that the driver distance himself from me. They asked if I needed an ambulance. Although I was scrapped up, I felt OK. They said they’d have to call a second car as it wasn’t their precinct.
While we were waiting for the other car, I walked around and tried to find witnesses. No one saw anything, of course. There was a MTA bus inspector close by, I asked him what he saw and he said “man, by the time I got over there, you were already on your feet giving him the business.” I was, indeed, giving him the business!
I should say right away that I feel a little beat up, but I’m fine. I saw Dr. Stu and I’ll see my GP next week. Some scrapes and bruises, and I tried to do the track yesterday and my back hurt a little bit, but it’ll all get better. I’m not currently planning on suing anyone or stopping running or not sneaking out of work or anything.
I got a receipt from the cops for the accident (w0w, a souvenir!) and now I need to go get the accident report for insurance. I have zero advice here. I was crossing with the light. I was wearing headphones, but I did see the guy clearly. Ug. I just hope I feel 100% by Sunday as there is a 5k (my first race since August!) I want to run. Be careful out there. Or don’t. It doesn’t seem to matter. :-)
It’s one of those fall days where it’s good to be a runner. Heading out for a long run today, it felt almost cold. I debated wearing compression sleeves or gloves or a hat. But after careful consideration (read: no consideration) I decided that I was going to warm up as I ran. As I always do. As everyone always does. A perfect day. Nice weather. Nice foliage. Man, here I go, sounding like a hippie.
I met the rest of the Taconics for the regular Saturday long run — I’ve been back a number of times since my injury, but I’ve always taken it easy, never running more than 8 or 9 miles. Today, I wanted to do 10 or 11, and I ran at a good clip for me, just above an 8 minute pace. Ran with a good group of good friends, we told jokes, made fun of each other, farted, all the usual stuff. There was some mud. There was some road kill. There was awesome weather, all in all it was a great day to be out.
What was special about today is I felt great throughout — no pain, no hamstring, nothing. I feel now I am well enough to injure myself again. My favorite 10k is tomorrow, here in Croton, but I’m not that ready to injure myself, so I’m going to volunteer to keep myself from running. But I am going to sign up for another race soon, maybe as soon as next weekend, when there is a 5k in Las Vegas.
I’m also thinking about the spring. I am not a bitter person, I hope, but I missed boston this year by like 27 seconds. I feel like after rest, some cycling, etc., whatever, I am ready for a spring marathon to get into Boston for 2013. That’s healthy, right? It’s not like I’ve been denied something and I’m clawing it back into my paws through spite and anger, right? No, not at all. I’m just going to run through the freaking winter like a lunatic, do track repeats on icy ovals, and then run through some suburban shithole in order to be allowed to sit on a school bus in New England again. That’s totally normal.
Seriously, I am excited about getting back into it. I’ll see how I feel next week, but I’m considering the New Jersey marathon. It’s just a week after Boston, so I can train with some of my friends who are running that race in order to get a good time in mine. Totally healthy.
Most runs are the same. Same route. Same pace. Same running buddies. Same hills. Same issues. Same persistent injury.
Of late, I’ve had very little of the same. Since pulling my hamstring a little over the month ago, it I would love a little sameness — but I’ve been doing different things to try to get better. I’ve going to a whole bunch of spinning classes. I’ve ridden my bike. I’ve taken time off. It’s all been great, but I’ve missed things being the same. As anyone who knows me will point out, in general, I fear change.
This last week I was in San Jose, and had a run that, for no particular reason, was different. I had a long break from work in the middle of the day, and I ran from the hotel to the what I’ve come to realize is the town of Alviso. This is an old village with a marina which borders the San Francisco bay. You run past the marina into a public park, and then along an elevated trail along a slough (don’t bother looking it up — it means swamp).
It’s been a rough year. Two close friends have died. The recession continues. I’ve got some close friends going through rough times. Oh, yeah, I injured myself. I’m out of a fall marathon.
And it’s the end of summer. Kids are going back to school. Work is gearing up. Just fell into another project that’ll make me busier than I’d like. So much stress building, it’s hard to forget it.
But there was something about this run that broke me out of all that.
It was different because I haven’t been running well, and all of a sudden I was running well. It was different because I was out on a run in the middle of the day when I might well have been stuck at work. It was different because although I was still worried about my hamstring I was feeling OK. It was different because I had stumbled upon a place so naturally beautiful that I had time to stop stressing. I could run another mile. I could turn around a little further than I had planned to, a little further down the trail.
Fuck yeah. That was a great run. Not at all fast. But different.
Alviso Slough / Photo by Jay Mooy
This is my 3rd pain free run. 3 miles today. Slowly. I feel better, but a little pain at the end. I’m taking it easy. I promise.
Last night I had a dream about running. Listen, with the amount of ambien I take dreams are pretty rare in and of themselves, but a dream about running, that’s a real treat. I dreamed, Dr. Freud, that I was running pain free, fast, through a trail. And then there was a bright light. And I was safe. OK, the safe part and the light part didn’t happen, but I did dream I was running fast and pain free.
Alas, so far, it’s just a dream. It’s been a ten days since I did something to my hamstring, and I’ve yet to recover. I’ve was on vacation, now I’m out of town for work, and I haven’t been able to kick this injury. Last week, I ran a good mile (after taking four or five days off), then biked hard a few days. Wednesday, the day before yesterday, and one week after my injury, I tried to do a three mile run. First mile OK, then bad bad hamstring pain, walked it back in.
I’m lucky in that there is a freakin’ spin studio in the hotel next time mine, and I went to a spin class with some friends and colleagues (OK, they’re clients, but don’t tell anyone I’m fraternizing with the clients. No good can come from that. It’s not like they read my blog. Right? Right?). As I mentioned to my, er, colleague afterwards I felt like I was a serial killer who had struck again — I had finally found a release of my built up energy by pushing myself on a spinning cycle. Is that metaphor too weak? Too strong?
Spinning gets a lot of criticism from the biking community, but there is no question it’s a real workout. I wore the Garmin and my heart rate was higher that I’d get from a bike ride. I never wear the heart rate band while running, but I’m going to start. So much to learn.
But, seriously, I’ve missed running so much, it’s scary. I’m not letting myself get too worked up — as soon as I get home I can seek some proper care. I’m going to spin again tomorrow, take Sunday off, then maybe spin a bunch next week. Maybe, sometime next week, I’ll try to run again.
In the mean time, I’m trying not to eat 55 cheeseburgers a day. So far, I’ve kept it to 54.
Oh man.
I’m on vacation these two weeks, on Long Island where everything is flat. Well, not totally flat. But compared to Westchester, it’s like a pancake here. I’ve been looking forward to running and biking, thinking I could make up for some quality runs lost this summer.
It’s been a busy couple of months — I was in Shanghai last week, and although I did have some great runs, I skipped both a long run and a track workout for various and sundry reasons. One being that there was no track. The other being that it was like a million degrees. Celsius.
But I did get in 30 or so miles, and the pace felt good and the workouts felt worthwhile. I’ve been asking my new and improved Garmin
Out here on the Island I did a nice ride on Monday — clocking just over 15 miles. Good workout. Nice and flat here. Wait, I guess I mentioned that. Came home, felt fine. Maybe a little sore. Then, Tuesday (yesterday), I headed out to do an easy 7 mile loop. Got to the end of the block and realized I was in bad paid. Quad pain. Little hamstring pain. Crap, I thought to myself. This blows. But maybe pushing it on the bike was a mistake. Take it easy. Take a day off.
So I did.
Today, my training plan had a fairly intense track workout:
2 mi at 8:10 – 8:39 pace
2 x 2 mi in 6:47
2 minutes recovery
3 x 1 k in 3:53
2 minutes recovery
4 x 200 m in 0:44
200m recovery jog
1 mi in 8:10 – 8:39
Man, this Jack Daniels plan is freakin torture. That’s a tempo and a interval workout all in one. That freakin’ blows! So off to the track I went, did the warmup slowly (like 9:30 slow). Messed around with my ipod. And started the first mile of the tempo. I was just crossing the 100m line when I felt two sharp — sharp — pains in my left hamstring. And one thing went through my head. ”Stop. You’re done.” And I was.
I stopped. Walked a few feet. Tried to run a little. Massive pain in the hamstring. For Fuck’s Sake. Stretched a little. Walked a little. Tried to run. Massive pain. For Fuck’s Sake.
No idea why. I’ve had hamstring issues before, like in 2008. Then it was a tear. Same side. Here we are again. But this year I’ve been training smart. I think I even stretched once or twice. And I rode a bike the other day. That’s good, right? See, I’ve been cross training!
As I’m on vacation, I don’t have my usual community of enabling medical professionals at the ready. But I did call the fantastic Dr. Stu, who gave me the names of some people to see close by. I have an appointment on Monday, and I did see sports massage guy.
This blog post is going to be short. Er, it’s already long. It’s going to end abruptly because it’s all still very unresolved. The key is mentally I have to take it easy. I’m worried that…
- I’ll never run again.
- I’ll put on a massive amount of weight.
- I’ll because so obsessed with my injury that I’ll make my friends and family nuts.
My friend and colleague Nicole sent me this video. And it is freakin’ AWESOME.
When I was just starting running, I heard anecdotally that the 5k was a magic distance. We all start running a little, walking a lot, then running a little more, then eating a sandwich, then running more.
Once we can run three miles, the conventional wisdom goes, it all starts to come together, and we’re more comfortable conquering longer distances. I think the conventional wisdom is right. Once you hit that magic 30 minute mark, or 40 minute mark, you’re almost to an hour. And an hour, my friends, is a real freakin’ run.
Certainly, there are many runners who follow plans designed to get them to their first 5k, the most well know being the C25k plan (wow, fancy new graphics on their website!). And those plans are designed to get the runners to not just run 5k in training, but to run a race. And since it’s the most egalitarian of distances, at most 5ks you see many runners and walkers just starting out and they’re having an awesome time. Enjoying some time outside, chatting with friends, meeting new people. Their enthusiasm is contagious, and a 5k is a great place to expose people to running, because so many people seem to be having such a good time.
Ah, the 5k. A great place to hang out with friends. Enjoy a short run. Take it easy.
Denied.
The dark, dirty, secret of a 5k that they don’t tell you when you’re starting out is that it’s a freakin’ bloodbath. Once you’re into racing, there is nothing like it. It’s an opportunity to race and race hard. There’s no strategy as prevalent as just running as hard as you freakin’ can for 3.1 miles and then puking. What’s the point of holding back? Just kill yourself. Best case, you have a great time. Worst case, well, you run the great recovery jog in the sky.
So Wednesday night, I found myself at the Master’s Challenge 5k, a local race held every year by the clubs north of New York City. Each club takes turns hosting the event. This year it was hosted by the Rockland Road Runners at Rockland Lake State Park. I asked around about this course, which has been run many times in the past, and didn’t like what I heard. ”Flat. Pancake flat.” ”Fast. Super fast.” ”No excuses there. And the weather looks like it’s going to be great.” There’s nothing I hate more than a total lack of excuses.
My training has been going pretty well, although I’ve had trouble hitting all my numbers in the speed workouts. That being said, I’ve been felling good, so I thought that I had a chance of getting under 20:00. My training plan suggested I could, so why not? Oh yeah, cause I actually have to run under 20 to get that time!
My PR in a 5k was set in 2009, on a flat course as well — I hit a 19:57, and it changed everything for me. I realized I loved racing. It’s not that I love beating other people. At all. Or that I’m that fast. It’s that I love the anticipation, the uniqueness of knowing a race is coming. Hey, I’ve written about this before.
I showed up about an hour early, and did a nice easy warm up. I chatted a bit with others, and said I wanted to do 6:22 miles based on my training plan. I’ve played it both ways — not telling people your goal and telling them — I don’t know which is better. I chatted with Bill who asked about my track work, and I joked that there is no strategy needed for a 5k. He reminded me that I was an idiot, and that running even splits was the key to success. But then he gave me great advice — “if you feel yourself slowing down, don’t give up. Just hold on.”
And that’s great advice. On a short race, it’s so easy to think any lack of speed is going to be ruinous. If you want to do 6:22s, and you hit a 6:30, might as well step of the course, right? No! Keep running! Give it your all! Unless you’re hurt. Or need a sandwich.
We lined up in a parking lot for the start. I think there were 60 runners or so, and there were a lot a familiar faces. There was very little pre-race chatting, the horn was sounded, and off we went.
I love a small race because there’s no fighting through the crowds are the start, and I was off to a good pace. There were a lot of great runners there, so it was easy to find someone to hold on to. I finished the first mile in 6:08, and I was feeling good. For the entire second mile, I also felt good, and hit 6:09. Our numbers had thinned out a bit, and there was a taller runner ahead of me that seemed to be slowing down. I passed him and then realized he was going way too fast for me, and he passed me. I read early on that if you pass someone, pass them by a lot — and now I know why. When he passed me it put my whole race into doubt — I worried I had pushed too hard and now I was going to have to give up.
He said “There are two guys up there we can catch, stay on my shoulder and we’ll go get them.” That dude rocks! But, alas, I had no give to give. I suggested, by a grunt and maybe spitting up blood, that he go on without me.
I did, however, not give up. I thought of how little of the race was left, and did mile 3 in 6:12. I finished the race in 19:25, beating my PR by 32 seconds.
Man I was thrilled! Now I’ve decided that all 5ks should be run on that course. And in that weather. And with that guy in front of me.
I ran hard. I had trouble catching my breath. I did a cool down jog. And then I ate a sandwich.
After the race. Note the smiles.
