Forgive me my flock, happily I can say...I"M BAAAAAACK!!!
I needed some time to do a big pile of Honey Do's. I have another big pile to do tomorrow and I didn't want the weekend to get away before I shared with you some thoughts and for whatever crazy reason, I feel like you want to hear my thoughts.
I must have jinxed myself, last time I mentioned getting on the podium at my little trail races that I like to do. Well for the first time ever in this particular series of trail races, about 15 races in all over the last 3+ years, I did not finish in the top 5, I did not hit the podium. I mean it's no big deal, right? I ended up going a little slower then I felt able to do because my feet started to really hurt. It was a combo platter of the Plantar Faciatis and lots of sharp rocks to step on. Besides, my goal this year is just recovery and stride transition. Then why am I still obsessed with it 2 weeks later. Maybe it's partially due to the passing another birthday last week?* Maybe it was the weakening of my immune system, as demonstrated by a viscous stomach bug that ripped me inside out for a few days? Maybe it's because, according to my feet, I'm not as fast a healer as I was 10 or 15 years ago. Whatever it is, I know I didn't lose my competitive streak, and that's a win for me.
Another thought bouncing around my noggin is my bone headed stubbornness. I refuse to take my own advice. I refuse to learn from my vast collection of mistakes. I feel like my body is talking and I'm not really listening. My feet have been tender for about 3 weeks now as a result of the natural trail running yet I refuse to stop or change shoes. I'm the yin and yang of malehood, a tired and whiny old man and a little boy all wide eyed and innocent. A strong and silent leader of men and a pimply little teenager. Oh well, such is my life, I'm not going to change soooo.....
Finally, I went to a passover Seder last week. The matzoh reminded me of my body as few 5 years ago, all flat and ripply and stuff. Now I'm more like a good sized Matzoh ball, getting round and mushy and maybe even a little smelly and ripe.
*sidenote: I found out last weekend that the age minimum for AARP membership was 50!! WTF?? 50?!?! Sure, they offer great discounts on life insurance, bus tours of Miami Beach and the blue plate special at the Denny's but now that I'm a mere 6 years from AARP-age I feel like I can wait a while before I get to the back half of the inning.
Friday, April 13, 2012
Saturday, April 7, 2012
first day of spring run
originally written 3/19:
Those of you in the DC area this past weekend may remember, Spring officially sprung on Friday. At least it did for me. I know that the first day of spring is officially on the vernal eqinox which is on March 20th every year (as far as I know). But my first day of spring is on a different day each year, I'm never for sure which day it's coming but on the day it arrives...AHHH!!! It feels like I haven't felt the sun in my whole life. It's one of my happiest days all year. I tend to celebrate that day instead of March 20th.
What makes a day, a particular day like any other day and like no day before it for about 3-4 months...WARM SUNSHINE (accomponied by gentle breezes of dry, pine scented air). For me the first day of spring is loosly defined as the first day of the year that it is warm, warm enough to run early in the morning, mid day, early evening or late at night and be equally comfortable. Everybody has a day like this in their personal calanders. But what do you do with it? You go outside, we've been couped up all winter, it's time to get out!
So I did what I naturally wanted to do, go for a run. I laced up my Barefoot Merril Trail Gloves and I took off down the trail, my mind was sort of all over the place when I started. I was thinking about work and I was thinking about house issues and some family things and I had no idea how far I wanted to go and how much time I had to get there. Then I remembered that I had a few errands to do so I grapped some papers for my realtor (we finally sold my old place, whew!!), and a small sport sack I would need to pick up some things at CVS and a charger at the Apple store. As I was headed into town I started thinking about the National Marathon that will be taking place the next day. I ran that marathon every year for the past 4 and some kind of spring marathon every year for 6 years. It's just what I do...or did. Not this year because I was injured most of last year and didn't want to rush my body back to fast, I may have decided to do a fall trail marathon if I find one close. I started thinking about how much work and fun and work went in to doing a marathon. They can be grueling but they can be very rewarding. You really learn a little more about yourself when ever you do one, when ever you pass any test for that matter.
So I was inspired that today, on this, the first day of Spring, I will run 6.2 miles (I'll leave the first 20 up to my marathon brothers-in -arms). I had not run that far for 9 months and I run nataurally now so my feet might not even be ready for a run that far. But I had to try and sometimes trying is enough because on this day I ran my 6.2 miles (maybe 6.5 really, I wanted to be sure) and it felt good. I saw a lot of interesting things and I felt a lot of interesting things and I even composed a poem.
I am loving this perfect weather day!
what it does to my soul,
and what it does to my my spirit,
to be outside in it.
Runnin' and gunnin' and soaking it in,
I can't wait for his dreams to begin.
Climbing trees and hills and heights unknown,
together we run b'never alone
Right?!?!
The run felt great even though the balls of my feet are really sore still from the races on the past two weekends all is well, all systems go!
.
Those of you in the DC area this past weekend may remember, Spring officially sprung on Friday. At least it did for me. I know that the first day of spring is officially on the vernal eqinox which is on March 20th every year (as far as I know). But my first day of spring is on a different day each year, I'm never for sure which day it's coming but on the day it arrives...AHHH!!! It feels like I haven't felt the sun in my whole life. It's one of my happiest days all year. I tend to celebrate that day instead of March 20th.
What makes a day, a particular day like any other day and like no day before it for about 3-4 months...WARM SUNSHINE (accomponied by gentle breezes of dry, pine scented air). For me the first day of spring is loosly defined as the first day of the year that it is warm, warm enough to run early in the morning, mid day, early evening or late at night and be equally comfortable. Everybody has a day like this in their personal calanders. But what do you do with it? You go outside, we've been couped up all winter, it's time to get out!
So I did what I naturally wanted to do, go for a run. I laced up my Barefoot Merril Trail Gloves and I took off down the trail, my mind was sort of all over the place when I started. I was thinking about work and I was thinking about house issues and some family things and I had no idea how far I wanted to go and how much time I had to get there. Then I remembered that I had a few errands to do so I grapped some papers for my realtor (we finally sold my old place, whew!!), and a small sport sack I would need to pick up some things at CVS and a charger at the Apple store. As I was headed into town I started thinking about the National Marathon that will be taking place the next day. I ran that marathon every year for the past 4 and some kind of spring marathon every year for 6 years. It's just what I do...or did. Not this year because I was injured most of last year and didn't want to rush my body back to fast, I may have decided to do a fall trail marathon if I find one close. I started thinking about how much work and fun and work went in to doing a marathon. They can be grueling but they can be very rewarding. You really learn a little more about yourself when ever you do one, when ever you pass any test for that matter.
So I was inspired that today, on this, the first day of Spring, I will run 6.2 miles (I'll leave the first 20 up to my marathon brothers-in -arms). I had not run that far for 9 months and I run nataurally now so my feet might not even be ready for a run that far. But I had to try and sometimes trying is enough because on this day I ran my 6.2 miles (maybe 6.5 really, I wanted to be sure) and it felt good. I saw a lot of interesting things and I felt a lot of interesting things and I even composed a poem.
I am loving this perfect weather day!
what it does to my soul,
and what it does to my my spirit,
to be outside in it.
Runnin' and gunnin' and soaking it in,
I can't wait for his dreams to begin.
Climbing trees and hills and heights unknown,
together we run b'never alone
Right?!?!
The run felt great even though the balls of my feet are really sore still from the races on the past two weekends all is well, all systems go!
.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
race report
Trail running is a great way to experience something old in a whole new venue. I get to be up close and personal with rocks and roots and trees and streams and creeks and incredibly steep hills all with fairly unsure footing. I love it, it's much more fun then running on the road. Sometimes I fall, but usually not. I use my stopwatch just to get a rough idea of how much longer I need to endure the suffering that comes with a race. The actual race time doesn't matter much because all trail race distances are an educated guess at best. The first race was like 5.5 miles and the second was 5.6 miles. I got to strap on my new natural running trail shoes and mix it up with about 400 of my new best buddies.
I was hooked the first time I did one of these races. My good friend Sara (also a successful Personal Trainer) told me she likes to do them all and I should join her next time. Gentlemen, if a good looking and athletic red head says, "come join me it will be fun!" Do not question her!!! Back then I was in the middle of an impressive, if not daunting, stretch of 11 marathons, 6 half-iron triathlons and 2 full Ironman in a 7 year period. I was getting a little burned out by the road and was looking for a change. So I signed up for the full four race series of 10 mile trail runs. There is a 5 or 10 mile option but at that time going big was second nature for me. I was excited because everything was new. The gun went off and off I went, over the creeks and up the hills deep into my "dark place" and about an hour and change later I finished and headed towards the finish line buffet. Pizza, cookies and a coke later and I was human again. "Let's go check the results," she said. We wondered over to the results page paper clipped to the finish chute fence. I found my age group and started looking for my name. I started in the middle and started slowly moving my eyes up. I have never won a race before in my life. So I was pretty shocked when I found my name atop the list. "I won my age group." I said quietly to Sara and anybody else in earshot. I won my first pub glass. I was very proud. 2 weeks ago I began my comeback trail, well, on the trail. This time I entered the 5 mile race. I was more concerned about how my body would feel then how many fools I could beat to the line. I found a pace that was hard but sustainable, some people passed me I passed some other people, I was running and it felt great. When I got to the finish I was pleased with my effort and pleased to see that I had placed 4th, doing the approximately 5.5 miles in 43:43. Another race, another pub glass. After the race my Plantar Faciatis really flared up. I really wanted to put some arch support under my feet. Next time I will bring shoes to change into for sure. I was worried that the balls of my feet would hurt but they didn't, just the arches and the heel. The rest of my body actually felt really good. Because of the stress of the race and the stress of the work week I only had time to run one day in the week between the races, a pleasant and flat 4 miles on the Cap C Trail.
The second race was supposed to be the easiest on the circuit. 5.5 miles of almost completely flat and only two serious hills. The main difference this week was that a great portion of the trail was made up of smaller, sharper rocks. The balls of my feet really feel it this time. I crossed the line in 41:40 but only managed a 5th place. No worries, I was still able to take my 20th pub glass home, keeping my string of 20 straight podiums in 20 trail races. I changed into more supportive shoes for the awards ceremony and pizza brunch. This time my Plantar only was moderately annoyed but the balls of the feet felt bruised. Nothing a good massage couldn't help.
Bottom line here? I don't really have one, I suppose if I was creative enough I could have spun a tale about not losing sight of the forest for the trees. Anyway, next race is in 2 weeks and I can't wait.
I was hooked the first time I did one of these races. My good friend Sara (also a successful Personal Trainer) told me she likes to do them all and I should join her next time. Gentlemen, if a good looking and athletic red head says, "come join me it will be fun!" Do not question her!!! Back then I was in the middle of an impressive, if not daunting, stretch of 11 marathons, 6 half-iron triathlons and 2 full Ironman in a 7 year period. I was getting a little burned out by the road and was looking for a change. So I signed up for the full four race series of 10 mile trail runs. There is a 5 or 10 mile option but at that time going big was second nature for me. I was excited because everything was new. The gun went off and off I went, over the creeks and up the hills deep into my "dark place" and about an hour and change later I finished and headed towards the finish line buffet. Pizza, cookies and a coke later and I was human again. "Let's go check the results," she said. We wondered over to the results page paper clipped to the finish chute fence. I found my age group and started looking for my name. I started in the middle and started slowly moving my eyes up. I have never won a race before in my life. So I was pretty shocked when I found my name atop the list. "I won my age group." I said quietly to Sara and anybody else in earshot. I won my first pub glass. I was very proud. 2 weeks ago I began my comeback trail, well, on the trail. This time I entered the 5 mile race. I was more concerned about how my body would feel then how many fools I could beat to the line. I found a pace that was hard but sustainable, some people passed me I passed some other people, I was running and it felt great. When I got to the finish I was pleased with my effort and pleased to see that I had placed 4th, doing the approximately 5.5 miles in 43:43. Another race, another pub glass. After the race my Plantar Faciatis really flared up. I really wanted to put some arch support under my feet. Next time I will bring shoes to change into for sure. I was worried that the balls of my feet would hurt but they didn't, just the arches and the heel. The rest of my body actually felt really good. Because of the stress of the race and the stress of the work week I only had time to run one day in the week between the races, a pleasant and flat 4 miles on the Cap C Trail.
The second race was supposed to be the easiest on the circuit. 5.5 miles of almost completely flat and only two serious hills. The main difference this week was that a great portion of the trail was made up of smaller, sharper rocks. The balls of my feet really feel it this time. I crossed the line in 41:40 but only managed a 5th place. No worries, I was still able to take my 20th pub glass home, keeping my string of 20 straight podiums in 20 trail races. I changed into more supportive shoes for the awards ceremony and pizza brunch. This time my Plantar only was moderately annoyed but the balls of the feet felt bruised. Nothing a good massage couldn't help.
Bottom line here? I don't really have one, I suppose if I was creative enough I could have spun a tale about not losing sight of the forest for the trees. Anyway, next race is in 2 weeks and I can't wait.
a little test
I have long been a believer that if you really want to test yourself, if you really want to see what you are made of then you need to compete. Competition causes people to really push themselves beyond their own perceived limits. "I never thought I could go that far, or that fast, or that high or lift that much, but I really wanted to beat that person or my previous best time, etc." People can never really do more work than is possible but people can always do more work than they thought was possible. I learned this lesson way back in high school.
It was my senior year and I was running what I suspected would be my last official race representing the school colors. It was the Fall of 1985 (I did not have a Members Only jacket but I did have an Indiana Jones hat, acid washed jeans and big hair. I was listening to Squeeze and George Thorogood and The Police) and I was one of the stars, well...participants, of the cross country team and I really wanted to beat this one particular guy from a rival school. Why was I so concerned with this dude? I'm not sure, we were both middle of the pack runners, we rarely if ever figured into the scoring of our teams (only the top 5 score for each team, I was usually the 6 or 7 runner). But this dude really bugged me. First of all, he was a big guy. What the hell is a big guy doing in a cross country race? He was built like a linebacker or a power forward (a private prep school version not a college scholarship version), he didn't look like he could run far or fast!!! I, on the other hand do (well...did), look like I could run far and fast. In fact, I feel like did both... regularly!!! Second of all, his running style made it look like he was not even trying, he looked like he was running slow, jogging. He kind of lumbered down the trail, with heavy feet and slumped shoulders and a protruding brow. OK, not really a protruding brow, he wasn't a caveman but you get the point. So early in the season when out teams ran a dual meet and he passed me with a mile to go in the race. I tried to follow him, this Neanderthal with his distinctive style. I was getting more and more frustrated that this big dude with the slow feet was beating me, the fast kid, at my sport! You don't see me trying to slam dunk over big kids on the basketball court. I never did catch him but I never forgot him and 3 weeks later our teams met again, this time at a big invitational meet with 25-30 teams of 9 kids each. I wasn't sure I'd even see him. I just wanted to run my race and do my best for the team. But with about a mile to go I spotted him up in the distance. He looked brutish and awkward, like he was going to trip any second. I picked up the pace a little, I was going to catch him about 200m from the finish then blow past him as I whoooshed into the finishing chute and into the arms of the cute cheerleader. But, again, it was not to be. He felt me closing in and right at about 200m to go he broke into a sprint that sucked the will right out of me. There will be no beating rivals this week, no self-indulgent pride, no confidence boosting cheerleaders. So we flash forward several weeks to the conference championship race. All 8 teams, best 9 runners each on the toughest course on our schedule all running the one race that we all have been training for all year. The one race we wanted to win more than any other. It was a cold and windy day in late November, everything was gray and stark. The only color was the red on our cheeks and the Blue and Gold on our singlets. I lost sight of my unknowing rival and soon forgot about him. I was simply trying to run as fast as I could in order to stay ahead of the 2 or 3 guys breathing down my neck. But again with about a mile to go I saw the lumbering fool. This time I was going to leave nothing to chance. Impossibly, I picked up my pace even faster and not only did I pass him I flew past him in two steps, like he was standing still. "When you pass don't look back, just look ahead to the next guy you are going to pass!!" I heard my coach’s voice in my head. "Looking back is a sign of weakness," is another one of his sayings that kept bouncing around. I was right at my limit, right at the red line. I broke out into the last open field. The finish line was just at the other side 300m away and closing fast...250m and my season and my rivalry would be over...200m and my lungs were searing and my legs were on fire but redemption will soon be mine...150m and I started to hear a load cheer from somebody's dad, "Go Dexter GO!!" 50m to go and the finish line is close enough to touch, then out of nowhere Dexter blew past me so fuckin' fast I swear to this day I heard a sonic boom. The lumbering idiot beat me again. I finished one second behind him and pretended my momentum (or frustration) caused me to push him over in the finish chute. I was pissed. I cried a little, more because it was the end of my scholastic running career then because I couldn't ever beat the guy. I have been known to cry at the end of really hard events that leave me completely drained. So what's the lesson here? What can be learned from getting beat by the same guy three times? 17:52 that's what. It was, is and always will be my fastest time ever in a 5k. I have never before or since come close. I've gone under 20 minutes a bunch and even under 19 once on a downhill course but never could touch sub-18. I was able to push myself beyond my perceived limit because the competition caused me to force my body into new territory.
Here I am again, pushing myself into a new territory, running on familiar trails with some unfamiliar shoes and a forefoot striking stride. I raced twice on the last two consecutive weekends, 5 mile trial races both. My feet hurt but the pain is eased by the pub glasses I brought home by placing in the top 5 in my age group each time. In true cliff hanger tradition I'll report more on those two races next time because this blog has gone on long enough.
Bottom line is that competition brings out the best in us and I like it. Who wants to join me next week? www.ex2adventures.com
It was my senior year and I was running what I suspected would be my last official race representing the school colors. It was the Fall of 1985 (I did not have a Members Only jacket but I did have an Indiana Jones hat, acid washed jeans and big hair. I was listening to Squeeze and George Thorogood and The Police) and I was one of the stars, well...participants, of the cross country team and I really wanted to beat this one particular guy from a rival school. Why was I so concerned with this dude? I'm not sure, we were both middle of the pack runners, we rarely if ever figured into the scoring of our teams (only the top 5 score for each team, I was usually the 6 or 7 runner). But this dude really bugged me. First of all, he was a big guy. What the hell is a big guy doing in a cross country race? He was built like a linebacker or a power forward (a private prep school version not a college scholarship version), he didn't look like he could run far or fast!!! I, on the other hand do (well...did), look like I could run far and fast. In fact, I feel like did both... regularly!!! Second of all, his running style made it look like he was not even trying, he looked like he was running slow, jogging. He kind of lumbered down the trail, with heavy feet and slumped shoulders and a protruding brow. OK, not really a protruding brow, he wasn't a caveman but you get the point. So early in the season when out teams ran a dual meet and he passed me with a mile to go in the race. I tried to follow him, this Neanderthal with his distinctive style. I was getting more and more frustrated that this big dude with the slow feet was beating me, the fast kid, at my sport! You don't see me trying to slam dunk over big kids on the basketball court. I never did catch him but I never forgot him and 3 weeks later our teams met again, this time at a big invitational meet with 25-30 teams of 9 kids each. I wasn't sure I'd even see him. I just wanted to run my race and do my best for the team. But with about a mile to go I spotted him up in the distance. He looked brutish and awkward, like he was going to trip any second. I picked up the pace a little, I was going to catch him about 200m from the finish then blow past him as I whoooshed into the finishing chute and into the arms of the cute cheerleader. But, again, it was not to be. He felt me closing in and right at about 200m to go he broke into a sprint that sucked the will right out of me. There will be no beating rivals this week, no self-indulgent pride, no confidence boosting cheerleaders. So we flash forward several weeks to the conference championship race. All 8 teams, best 9 runners each on the toughest course on our schedule all running the one race that we all have been training for all year. The one race we wanted to win more than any other. It was a cold and windy day in late November, everything was gray and stark. The only color was the red on our cheeks and the Blue and Gold on our singlets. I lost sight of my unknowing rival and soon forgot about him. I was simply trying to run as fast as I could in order to stay ahead of the 2 or 3 guys breathing down my neck. But again with about a mile to go I saw the lumbering fool. This time I was going to leave nothing to chance. Impossibly, I picked up my pace even faster and not only did I pass him I flew past him in two steps, like he was standing still. "When you pass don't look back, just look ahead to the next guy you are going to pass!!" I heard my coach’s voice in my head. "Looking back is a sign of weakness," is another one of his sayings that kept bouncing around. I was right at my limit, right at the red line. I broke out into the last open field. The finish line was just at the other side 300m away and closing fast...250m and my season and my rivalry would be over...200m and my lungs were searing and my legs were on fire but redemption will soon be mine...150m and I started to hear a load cheer from somebody's dad, "Go Dexter GO!!" 50m to go and the finish line is close enough to touch, then out of nowhere Dexter blew past me so fuckin' fast I swear to this day I heard a sonic boom. The lumbering idiot beat me again. I finished one second behind him and pretended my momentum (or frustration) caused me to push him over in the finish chute. I was pissed. I cried a little, more because it was the end of my scholastic running career then because I couldn't ever beat the guy. I have been known to cry at the end of really hard events that leave me completely drained. So what's the lesson here? What can be learned from getting beat by the same guy three times? 17:52 that's what. It was, is and always will be my fastest time ever in a 5k. I have never before or since come close. I've gone under 20 minutes a bunch and even under 19 once on a downhill course but never could touch sub-18. I was able to push myself beyond my perceived limit because the competition caused me to force my body into new territory.
Here I am again, pushing myself into a new territory, running on familiar trails with some unfamiliar shoes and a forefoot striking stride. I raced twice on the last two consecutive weekends, 5 mile trial races both. My feet hurt but the pain is eased by the pub glasses I brought home by placing in the top 5 in my age group each time. In true cliff hanger tradition I'll report more on those two races next time because this blog has gone on long enough.
Bottom line is that competition brings out the best in us and I like it. Who wants to join me next week? www.ex2adventures.com
Thursday, March 1, 2012
How I reconnected with the earth
I have my first trail race coming up this Sunday. It is the first race I've done of any kind since last June when I hobbled, under trained and injured, thru the DC Tri. It was right after that race, or maybe during, that I decided to take a month off of running just to let my budding Plantar Faciatis heal. Or is it heel? I had to let my heel heal. Well a month turned into the summer, which lead into the year. I was a DNS to my entire 2011 race schedule. The Annapolis 10, The Nations Tri, the Pocono 70.3, a fall marathon TBD, the Fall Backyard Burn trail race series, the turkey trot and a few other random 5k-10k's.
But as you, my "faithful 4", as I shall now refer to you my dedicated following, already know...I AM BACK!!! I have signed up for and am super excited to do the Spring Backyard Burn trail run series. The first race is this Sunday. I have competed in this series 5 times in the past several, always in the 10 mile races and always with success. I don't think I have ever finished one of the great trail races from www.ex2adventures.com without being on the podium somewhere. I've collected a cool set of branded pub glasses, each with that races finishing place and the EX2 logo. My wife loves them, she thinks they are charming and practical and a testament to the virility of her lifelong mate and companion. And by that I mean she thinks they are a hideous white trashy eyesore and must be hidden from sight, banished to that death row of knick knacks...storage. I think they are cool. So far they have stayed. So far.
So here I am. About to embark on the first official step, as evidenced by the entry fee and tee shirt, towards my BHAG (big, hairy, audacious goal). A set of 5 mile (stepping back, inside my new limits, go me) trail runs in my new natural running trail shoes. I figured that even though I am easing into this I better put a few dirty miles on them so I did the same run as last week to RCP. This time I fell. Hard. I laughed as I brushed myself off and checked for structural damage. No big deal, it happens from time to time. I have a picture of an awesome raspberry I gave myself in a race a few years back. It won an award from the Race Director at the pub glass ceremony (I'd show you the pic if I could figure out how to pull it off my iPhone 3). This time I'm not so sure a pub glass is coming home to join his 13 other friends. I'm slower now, but it's OK. It'll just feel good to get out in the fresh air and push my new body to its new limits, in different directions.
40 minute run with 30-34 on dirt
But as you, my "faithful 4", as I shall now refer to you my dedicated following, already know...I AM BACK!!! I have signed up for and am super excited to do the Spring Backyard Burn trail run series. The first race is this Sunday. I have competed in this series 5 times in the past several, always in the 10 mile races and always with success. I don't think I have ever finished one of the great trail races from www.ex2adventures.com without being on the podium somewhere. I've collected a cool set of branded pub glasses, each with that races finishing place and the EX2 logo. My wife loves them, she thinks they are charming and practical and a testament to the virility of her lifelong mate and companion. And by that I mean she thinks they are a hideous white trashy eyesore and must be hidden from sight, banished to that death row of knick knacks...storage. I think they are cool. So far they have stayed. So far.
So here I am. About to embark on the first official step, as evidenced by the entry fee and tee shirt, towards my BHAG (big, hairy, audacious goal). A set of 5 mile (stepping back, inside my new limits, go me) trail runs in my new natural running trail shoes. I figured that even though I am easing into this I better put a few dirty miles on them so I did the same run as last week to RCP. This time I fell. Hard. I laughed as I brushed myself off and checked for structural damage. No big deal, it happens from time to time. I have a picture of an awesome raspberry I gave myself in a race a few years back. It won an award from the Race Director at the pub glass ceremony (I'd show you the pic if I could figure out how to pull it off my iPhone 3). This time I'm not so sure a pub glass is coming home to join his 13 other friends. I'm slower now, but it's OK. It'll just feel good to get out in the fresh air and push my new body to its new limits, in different directions.
40 minute run with 30-34 on dirt
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Moving to the beat of a different runner
2/19/12
I went for a run this weekend. In my past life I couldn't wait to get out the door early on a Saturday morning, sometimes starting my runs in the dark. I've even been known to wake up earlier on a Saturday then I did during the week just for the run. The run (or massive 100 mile bike ride) was the event. Now the run is just something I work into my weekend. This particular the run was how I did some errands and I finally found time for it late on Sunday afternoon. I had to drop off my keys at my realtor's house (anybody want to buy an efficiency apartment with a fantastic view of Rock Creek Park, a few steps from the red line in North Bethesda?), stop at an ATM, and mail a few bills (my bills are paid via the internet, but the wife is old fashioned). On the way home I had a solid 2.5 miles to think. I thought about a lot of things, my stride, the weather this winter, should the Redskins draft or trade for a Quarterback, I thought about a problem at work, I thought about a yoga class I took recently and the teacher kept talking about the rhythm. The rhythm of my breath should control the rhythm of my practice. That got me to thinking, there is something different about my running now, something subtle but sustantially and fundamentally different. The rhythem of my foot strikes.
That sound, that particular and unique rhythem, I've heard it so much in my life that it sort of blended into the background of my thoughts. I never really noticed it until it changed. My stride has quickened a bit and the pitch is a little higher. It used to be a sort slow steady beat, like...
slap slap slap slap
...but now its more like a...
tap tap tap tap
....a little faster, a little higher in pitch, a little quicker tempo'd. I'm not sure if I am making any sense but it was someting I noticed and thought was interesting.
2/25/12
So as I continue to flush out the next insights to my thoughts disguised as a blog, I find that it is a week after I first started typing this particular entry. I had to put the old 'puter down for a little while as life got in the way. But I went for another run tonight and it gave me some more time to think. Tonight I started to try to work in my new Merrill barefoot trail glove shoe. I'm not ready to run a full 4 miles in it yet, but I could do a little bit. So I did what any one of you would do. I started in the new ones and then changed shoes back to Brooks the Green Hornets after about a mile or two. I brought them in a little backpack. As I swung by a park bench on the other side of town I sat down for a few minutes to change shoes. It felt like I couldn't have run much further on the barefoot shoes without it really starting to do some damage. The Hornets finished the run just fine. I think this might be a reasonable plan. As I start slowly getting my body used to the barefoot shoes I still want to just ease into it a mile or so at a time. Maybe I'll just add one mile per week per month just like I did tonight. Should I even bring a backpack to my first trail race next weekend? That would really go against my nature. But maybe my nature has changed, maybe it's no longer my nature to try to beat people and place as high as I can in a race. I guess that question will be answered later (and then blogged about).
As I sit here sipping a decaf coffee, drinking a large tumbler of water and eating Otterbein's Sugar cookies I start to recall last weeks run. I recall my lower legs really being on fire for the last 10 minutes or so. I remember the maiden voyage in the barefoot shoes about two weeks ago and how I couldn't walk right for about three days afterwards, it felt about the same as my first few marathons, but in the lower legs only. The rest of my body felt fine. I know for sure that tonight and tomorrow I will feel a lot better then I did two weeks ago. I also remember last week as my legs were just on fire that it also felt familiar. It felt familiar because I was going deep. Going deep inside myself , inside to find my resolve and inside to find my inner drive, my inner strong, my inner bad ass that is always with me but doesn't often show his face to the public. But I need that inner bad ass to show his face once or twice every year or so. I think it keeps me in balance. There are only so many days I can do the ordinary before I start getting the urge, the need to do something extra-ordinary. Maybe that's part of the reason I want to do the JFK50, the need to go deep. It might not be here yet, I realize that I'll have a lot of life getting in the way for the next few years but I also know that I have to have a goal on the other side to help pull me thru. But, I feel as if I'll be ready, physically and emotionally ready to go deep, real deep. But not for about 21 months. I also have started to think that a man (as in mankind, some chicks can be pretty bad ass too) can only go real deep only so many times in his life. So I'm not going to waste one of my last trips to the depths on anything less then a real big hairy audacious MF goal.
I went for a run this weekend. In my past life I couldn't wait to get out the door early on a Saturday morning, sometimes starting my runs in the dark. I've even been known to wake up earlier on a Saturday then I did during the week just for the run. The run (or massive 100 mile bike ride) was the event. Now the run is just something I work into my weekend. This particular the run was how I did some errands and I finally found time for it late on Sunday afternoon. I had to drop off my keys at my realtor's house (anybody want to buy an efficiency apartment with a fantastic view of Rock Creek Park, a few steps from the red line in North Bethesda?), stop at an ATM, and mail a few bills (my bills are paid via the internet, but the wife is old fashioned). On the way home I had a solid 2.5 miles to think. I thought about a lot of things, my stride, the weather this winter, should the Redskins draft or trade for a Quarterback, I thought about a problem at work, I thought about a yoga class I took recently and the teacher kept talking about the rhythm. The rhythm of my breath should control the rhythm of my practice. That got me to thinking, there is something different about my running now, something subtle but sustantially and fundamentally different. The rhythem of my foot strikes.
That sound, that particular and unique rhythem, I've heard it so much in my life that it sort of blended into the background of my thoughts. I never really noticed it until it changed. My stride has quickened a bit and the pitch is a little higher. It used to be a sort slow steady beat, like...
slap slap slap slap
...but now its more like a...
tap tap tap tap
....a little faster, a little higher in pitch, a little quicker tempo'd. I'm not sure if I am making any sense but it was someting I noticed and thought was interesting.
2/25/12
So as I continue to flush out the next insights to my thoughts disguised as a blog, I find that it is a week after I first started typing this particular entry. I had to put the old 'puter down for a little while as life got in the way. But I went for another run tonight and it gave me some more time to think. Tonight I started to try to work in my new Merrill barefoot trail glove shoe. I'm not ready to run a full 4 miles in it yet, but I could do a little bit. So I did what any one of you would do. I started in the new ones and then changed shoes back to Brooks the Green Hornets after about a mile or two. I brought them in a little backpack. As I swung by a park bench on the other side of town I sat down for a few minutes to change shoes. It felt like I couldn't have run much further on the barefoot shoes without it really starting to do some damage. The Hornets finished the run just fine. I think this might be a reasonable plan. As I start slowly getting my body used to the barefoot shoes I still want to just ease into it a mile or so at a time. Maybe I'll just add one mile per week per month just like I did tonight. Should I even bring a backpack to my first trail race next weekend? That would really go against my nature. But maybe my nature has changed, maybe it's no longer my nature to try to beat people and place as high as I can in a race. I guess that question will be answered later (and then blogged about).
As I sit here sipping a decaf coffee, drinking a large tumbler of water and eating Otterbein's Sugar cookies I start to recall last weeks run. I recall my lower legs really being on fire for the last 10 minutes or so. I remember the maiden voyage in the barefoot shoes about two weeks ago and how I couldn't walk right for about three days afterwards, it felt about the same as my first few marathons, but in the lower legs only. The rest of my body felt fine. I know for sure that tonight and tomorrow I will feel a lot better then I did two weeks ago. I also remember last week as my legs were just on fire that it also felt familiar. It felt familiar because I was going deep. Going deep inside myself , inside to find my resolve and inside to find my inner drive, my inner strong, my inner bad ass that is always with me but doesn't often show his face to the public. But I need that inner bad ass to show his face once or twice every year or so. I think it keeps me in balance. There are only so many days I can do the ordinary before I start getting the urge, the need to do something extra-ordinary. Maybe that's part of the reason I want to do the JFK50, the need to go deep. It might not be here yet, I realize that I'll have a lot of life getting in the way for the next few years but I also know that I have to have a goal on the other side to help pull me thru. But, I feel as if I'll be ready, physically and emotionally ready to go deep, real deep. But not for about 21 months. I also have started to think that a man (as in mankind, some chicks can be pretty bad ass too) can only go real deep only so many times in his life. So I'm not going to waste one of my last trips to the depths on anything less then a real big hairy audacious MF goal.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Natural running is a virtue
I couldn't wait!!! The anticipation was killing me. Sometimes you just have to throw caution to the wind and do the thing you are not supposed to do, you know you are not supposed to do the thing but yet there it is...staring you in the face, daring you to not do the thing. So I did the thing. Ouch! I shouldn't have done the thing.
I have been shopping around for my next shoes almost as soon as I got the old ones home. The Brooks Pure Flow are great and I love them but they have always been a transition shoe for me. A rebound girl. We've all had the rebound girl or guy. You know the drill, you just got out of a long term relationship, you spend the appropriate amount of time wallowing in your misery, then your buddies drag your sorry ass out one night just to blow the stink off of you and you meet someone. She's not the one. She is not bad to look at but there are better. She can hold a conversation but not about anything you really care about. She's not a complete loser, I mean she has friends, she has a job, she's out at the same time and place as you and she is starting to get that look in her eye. You have no intentions of bringing her home to meet your mom but if she laughs a little too long at your dumb jokes one more time you might just bring her home. But if or when you bring her home you already have a plan and an exit strategy. Do you sneak out when she's asleep or go get some coffee and tell her the truth in the morning or exchange fake phone numbers or date her for a few weeks then toss her the old, "it's not you it's me, you're great I'm just not ready"? Whatever, you've got a plan.
Sidenote: I feel like my old transitional girlfriends will read this one day and all they will see is, "blah, blah, blah....are great and I love them.....blah, blah, blah" Let the drunk texting begin!!!
So I've been running a bit in the Brooks Pure Flow shoes but I just picked up the Merrill Trail Glove barefoot running shoes. These may be the ones. I got them home and put them on and immediately felt the pull, the call to go outside to the trail and be alone with nature and my thoughts. It was once again a warm sunny day in mid February so I headed out in my short sleeves and my new trail shoes and it was magic. There was plenty of foot flexibility, but unlike the Pure Flow, lots of trail traction. If you reference a previous post you'll see that I didn't take that one last trail. This time I did and it was the right one. It took me all the way into Rock Creek Park, to a series of long and amazing trails that I know very well and I ran. I don't really know how far I was but when I got to a turn around point I started the watch and it took me 29:13 to get home. The way back was mostly uphill so I'd say the whole run was about 55 minutes and since I'm about a 9 minute miler currently maybe I went about 6 miles. The shoes felt great and I felt even better. That is how running was supposed to be. The form was great, short almost choppy strides, quickish turnover, legs just trying to keep the momentum going. My feet could really feel the trail without getting hurt by the occasional sharp rock or odd root.
But that wasn't the plan! The plan was to run exclusively in the step down shoes until May and then slowly work into the barefoot shoes, to the tune of adding 2 miles per week on average every month. I was just supposed to wear the barefoot shoes as my walking around shoes in order to get accustomed to them. Now I'm walking around like my grandfather. My calves are sooooo soar, I've been stretching them all day to no avail. They haven't felt this stiff since the day after my first marathon. What the hell are fifty miles going to feel like? Did I make a mistake here in undertaking this massive shift in running form and fitness philosophy? I still have a few miles left in my old Brooks Adrenaline's. Maybe I'll just scrap the ..........
Patience. Patience. Patience. Back to the plan (but not until this weekend). The Trail Gloves are the one, they will be going home to meet mom, we just need more time to get to know each other first. I'll take my rebounder girls out for another spin on Saturday and will then come home to my future and I'll wear them to the mall and the hardware store and maybe Bed, Bath & Beyond. I don't know if I'll have enough time but it's going to be a good little Saturday.
6 miles in 55 minutes
I have been shopping around for my next shoes almost as soon as I got the old ones home. The Brooks Pure Flow are great and I love them but they have always been a transition shoe for me. A rebound girl. We've all had the rebound girl or guy. You know the drill, you just got out of a long term relationship, you spend the appropriate amount of time wallowing in your misery, then your buddies drag your sorry ass out one night just to blow the stink off of you and you meet someone. She's not the one. She is not bad to look at but there are better. She can hold a conversation but not about anything you really care about. She's not a complete loser, I mean she has friends, she has a job, she's out at the same time and place as you and she is starting to get that look in her eye. You have no intentions of bringing her home to meet your mom but if she laughs a little too long at your dumb jokes one more time you might just bring her home. But if or when you bring her home you already have a plan and an exit strategy. Do you sneak out when she's asleep or go get some coffee and tell her the truth in the morning or exchange fake phone numbers or date her for a few weeks then toss her the old, "it's not you it's me, you're great I'm just not ready"? Whatever, you've got a plan.
Sidenote: I feel like my old transitional girlfriends will read this one day and all they will see is, "blah, blah, blah....are great and I love them.....blah, blah, blah" Let the drunk texting begin!!!
So I've been running a bit in the Brooks Pure Flow shoes but I just picked up the Merrill Trail Glove barefoot running shoes. These may be the ones. I got them home and put them on and immediately felt the pull, the call to go outside to the trail and be alone with nature and my thoughts. It was once again a warm sunny day in mid February so I headed out in my short sleeves and my new trail shoes and it was magic. There was plenty of foot flexibility, but unlike the Pure Flow, lots of trail traction. If you reference a previous post you'll see that I didn't take that one last trail. This time I did and it was the right one. It took me all the way into Rock Creek Park, to a series of long and amazing trails that I know very well and I ran. I don't really know how far I was but when I got to a turn around point I started the watch and it took me 29:13 to get home. The way back was mostly uphill so I'd say the whole run was about 55 minutes and since I'm about a 9 minute miler currently maybe I went about 6 miles. The shoes felt great and I felt even better. That is how running was supposed to be. The form was great, short almost choppy strides, quickish turnover, legs just trying to keep the momentum going. My feet could really feel the trail without getting hurt by the occasional sharp rock or odd root.
But that wasn't the plan! The plan was to run exclusively in the step down shoes until May and then slowly work into the barefoot shoes, to the tune of adding 2 miles per week on average every month. I was just supposed to wear the barefoot shoes as my walking around shoes in order to get accustomed to them. Now I'm walking around like my grandfather. My calves are sooooo soar, I've been stretching them all day to no avail. They haven't felt this stiff since the day after my first marathon. What the hell are fifty miles going to feel like? Did I make a mistake here in undertaking this massive shift in running form and fitness philosophy? I still have a few miles left in my old Brooks Adrenaline's. Maybe I'll just scrap the ..........
Patience. Patience. Patience. Back to the plan (but not until this weekend). The Trail Gloves are the one, they will be going home to meet mom, we just need more time to get to know each other first. I'll take my rebounder girls out for another spin on Saturday and will then come home to my future and I'll wear them to the mall and the hardware store and maybe Bed, Bath & Beyond. I don't know if I'll have enough time but it's going to be a good little Saturday.
6 miles in 55 minutes
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