11 posts tagged “running”

It's supposed to be more the usual tomorrow and especially Sunday: below-zero windchills and generally icy, dangerous running conditions. "So, get a run in tonight!" I sez to myself when I get home. The temperature was quite reasonable for this town, this time of year, at about 36F. I put on the Sugoi running tights with the reflective stripes; found the old green fleece headband; and loaded up the Shuffle with Foo Fighters, Jay-Z, and Smashing Pumpkins. A slapdash mix, but it'll do.

I get out on the mean streets of Park Ridge, and it's 1/2" to an 1" of slush on the less-traveled residential byways. Surprisingly, I had really good traction. I can't explain it — I don't have havybeaks' screwspike-equipped running shoes or even trail running shoes. Just a plain old pair of trusty Asics Nimbus VIIs. I also felt surprisingly strong, cardio-wise, for not having run in quite some time. It's possible a skiing weekend out west 7 days ago is the explanation, but I dunno. Just 4 days at altitude shouldn't buy you any advantage, should it? Acclimation doesn't work that rapidly.

In the end, four miles. A bit of base built toward the half marathon in May (but it's really pushing it to connect a run this early with a race so far off). And some satisfaction in getting some work in before all that slush freezes into an impassable moonscape.

Did I mention I'm pleased to be heading to California for work again next week?

I got a 5-miler in last night before the door to the industrial freezer we call the Midwest slammed shut. My hair was frozen in matted clumps below my fleece headband, and that was at about 18F.

Fortunately, even I am not enough of a nutjob to run in this, the temperature of the moment:

…that's Fahrenheit, but it might as well be Kelvin. At least it's bright n' sunny. Everybody smile!

Left work, iron-gray skies above. Got on train. Drops streaking sideways on windows. Ponds forming in every dimple of asphalt on passing station platforms. Got off train. Got on bike. Rode two miles in the rinse cycle to get home. Exactly half-soaked from front to middle. Leather shoes. Crap.

Cut my losses; change right into summer running gear. Step out the door, cooler by 10 degrees than when I left work, maybe. Muggy in an autumnal way — not in your face, but damp. Stretch, then set a good pace. Rain has settled into a mist; cools but doesn't soak, although slick pavement plots treachery with each stride.

Make it to turnaround at Edison Park; water fountains are already on for the season. Soggy softball diamond is deserted, tennis courts inviting only to the mallard set. Mist picks up a bit, more of a steady thin drizzle. Spurs me on.

Last stretch, fifth mile of this trusty loop is a fast one, sub-seven. When the summer heat arrives to stay, I'll look back on this evening and want a switch to throw that restores it.

Once again, our man Dean Karnazes shares what he knows best, which is the power of mind over matter (though his power is considerably greater than, well, any other runner I'd dare to imagine). His thoughts on The Marathon — not any specific race, but the complete and formidable challenge of the event itself — ring so true from my experience that I can't help but share them: The Marathon.

In particular, this quote strongly recalled for me a key moment around mile 11 this past fall, just before making the swing west out of the city center and into the dark heart of the back half of Chicago:

You remain steadfast, knowing that you did not skimp, that you did not take shortcuts along the way, that every footstep was earned through months of diligent preparation. Still, with each wearing thrust forward, that little nagging inclination of self-doubt progressively advances toward the surface of your awareness.

At that point in the race, not even close to spent, I labored under a sudden wash of doubt; about qualifying for Boston, about keeping up a 7:28 pace in unyielding, raw headwinds, about even finishing the damn thing at all. I became completely aware of the madness of the moment, in a way no training run or even my first marathon in 2001 had prepared me to face. I think that moment has to come to every marathoner, whether or not they recall it vivdly. A whisper under the cadence of your breath becomes raspier — "long way...to go...long way...to go" — and the rhythm of the doubt itself insinuates itself into your stride.

How do you break it?

Courage comes in many forms, today you will have the courage to keep trying, to not give up, no matter how dire things become. And dire they do become.

It's courage. Something we all have but too often fail to tap into. Courage that muffles the doubting voice and its stinging cadence. It might be someone shouting your name as you grind past the 25th mile marker; it might be stretching a cramped calf that seems ready to flap itself up underneath your kneecap like cheap windowshade, filling you with grim resignation, but it suddenly recovers just enough flex to allow you to get back in the flow of traffic; it might be just the right song at just the right time on your player.

Or, it might be the thought of telling someone "I tried, but I just couldn't."

I recalled what coworker and Boston native Eric Olson told me a couple days before the race: "Why not you?" That's the 2004 Red Sox down 0-3 and winning out from there, that's Lance winning seven Tours, that's Eruzione hurling his gloves in the air and jumping on his teammates as the Soviets skate off the ice in disbelief. All in one.

I'm finishing the damn thing.

This is ridiculous.

It may be an irony of global warming, la niña, el guapo, or something else in the troposphere that has yet to earn a catchy nickname, but it's April-freaking-seventh and my 8 mile run this morning had a start time temperature of 29°F. I'm no Midwestern pushover, so 29 degrees isn't much of hardship especially if you're exercising and building up some heat, but it's demoralizing. I've only got four good weeks to get ready for the Indy Mini Marathon and I really wouldn't mind putting the shorts on again instead of the running tights. Especially after the lousy March I had, I feel like I'm far enough behind without the added barrier to my interest in getting up early and running. It was much easier to tear myself outta bed last summer at 5:30a or so for marathon training runs because the worst thing you might face is a muggy 65° or so. But getting up when it's 28° or lower? Hasn't happened yet. My putz streak continues.

Kvetching aside, I'm sure there are others who've cowboyed up in lake effect snow and worse and gotten on with their spring training. The Chicago area forecast doesn't show anything above 50 until late next week. Ridiculous. There, I said it again.

So, the run: it was pretty solid effort. This was the first 8 miler since probably September of last year. I set a conservative 8:00 pace goal on the ForeRunner 205, put the Shuffle on full random load-up, and hit the mean streets of Park Ridge, Edison Park, and Norwood Park. (All I need is a live video feed and I'm geeked-to-the-max. Pathetic.) I held a steady long run pace and the end result was 7:33/mi, which is a huge relief after the relative debacle of the Shamrock Shuffle. It's good to know it really was illness that set-and-forgot my parking brake for that run. I'm not all the way back by a longshot, and I think a 1:30 half marathon is a pipe dream, but at this point I simply don't want to embarrass my team in the Great Midwest Relay in June.

Today saw me and a field of some 30,000 other malcontents knock off the traditional start to the Chicago running season, the Shamrock Shuffle 8K. I think I've run this every year since 2000 or so, and it's about as a natural as breathing to register for it at the beginning of the year. Thanks to my performance in the Chicago Marathon last fall (I think), I got a "B" corral start position for the race, which put me in the company of a bunch of other speed merchants I had no business rubbing shoulders with at the start line. Still, what could I possibly have to complain about?

Something annoying, actually: I'm sick of being sick. Since the first weekend in March I've been fending off flu symptoms that just refuse to completely subside. It's been an alternating parade of fever, cough, and general body aches that have diminished but never completely remitted. After a fitful night not sleeping well, I woke up this morning to another blasted fever and a general, Han Solo post-carbonite malaise. (The money quote? "I feel terrible.") Still, I dragged myself downtown, got into the "B" corral, and hoped for the best.

My chip time was 37:38, a 7:34 minute mile pace average. A long way off my best 8K time (something like 36 flat), but I'll take it. Running when you don't feel well produces two experiences: extraordinary discomfort during the run and one of the best post-race highs when you finally turn off the jets. I've never been happier to be done with an 8K than I was today. I felt dehydrated almost from the start, and even though I walked through the mile 2 water stop, I got no real sense of relief out of the deal. It was a remarkably warm March day here, something like 65F at the start with 87% humidity if the announcer was to be trusted.

Now, how do I feel with a half marathon in Indy in May, and the Great Midwest Relay in June, on the calendar? Ridiculously behind schedule. I really gotta get it together. Today I'm putting my feet up and watching NCAA hoops, but tomorrow or Tuesday I gotta get back on the bus and start logging a bunch more miles. Here's hoping your 2007 season is off to a strong start.

I was out for a quick 5-miler today (I'm averaging 10 miles per week lately, so this is definitely the dark heart of the off-season, but of course the drumbeat to prepare for the spring races is starting to build) and I had my Shuffle loaded up with the usual assortment of running tunes. On came "Kickstart My Heart" (don't deny for a minute that you, too, have The Crüe lying about the place somewhere, fella); I smirked quietly to myself and then picked up the pace.

As I pushed it a bit harder, I thought, wouldn't it be cool if I could share a playlist in real time with a running partner? I imagine there are plenty of groups of 2-6 people who regularly run together, but unless they're on treadmills they don't have any practical way of sharing training music. (Heck, this applies to any group cardio, like spinning, cycling, treadmilling, etc.) Sharing a conversation while running is always a great way to pass the miles and reduce the mental fatigue of a too-familiar route or routine, but I think sharing music you've mixed together for a high-energy (or high-Zen) workout is something a lot of people could get into.

Here's how I'd do it:

• Offer a 1GB flash memory player with integrated Bluetooth and a slightly larger Li-Ion battery than, say, a Shuffle's, in order to power the player and the transmitter. It could be Nano-sized and not infuriate anyone.
  
• Allow it to have two modes: Solo and Share. Solo disables all Bluetooth and it acts like a conventional player. Share enables the player to transmit or receive another player's playlist; who ever starts broadcasting in a small group first "has the conch" and controls the playlist; all other players receive (but the wearer controls volume, naturally).
  
• The key to this approach is simplicity: the hardware remains inobtrusive yet durable enough for athletic use; the share software is simply on or off, and when on, the controlling owner is clear-cut.

Who should market this device? If Microsoft's Zune is really about their tagline's promise, "Welcome to the Social," then it's the natural choice despite its lackluster launch. Maybe this particular feature is just the right mix of socializing via digital media without even a hint of noxious DRM that consumers really want. I don't think the current Zune is compact enough to fit the bill, but perhaps this new "ZuneBeem" would be just the thing.

Price? $99, especially if I'm Microsoft.

Can Bluetooth handle this wireless bandwith requirement? I have no idea. I'm sure there's some reason this won't work technically, although there's some hideously inelegant hardware out there already that's proofing the concept.

But I'm curious, social VOX runner-types, if a device like this seems like a useful concept, or good technology chasing a dubious need. But really, do I have to keep Vince, Mick, Nikki, and Tommy to myself, when I could just as easily inflict them on willing vicitims within a 15 foot radius?

In the end, it looks like Dean Karnazes' family proved a more irresistable goal than the open road ahead of him:

"Last month, in New York City, I made a fairly insane and irrational decision, to run across the country. Today, I made a very sane and rational decision, to go to the beach…Plenty was learned during the past month of running, there were many great lessons along the open road. One is that running has the ability to unite or divide. I met so many wonderful individuals and families that were brought together by a shared love of running and the outdoors. Yet running can also be a very isolating pursuit which can separate people and split families. I have always made the commitment that my family comes first, that running would never come between us. Today, I am honoring that commitment. My run across the country has ended at the place where it all began, Family Arena at the start of the Lewis & Clark Marathon."

He has nothing to prove to anyone at this stage. Nothing. I'm still fairly gobsmacked at the sheer scale of his accomplishment this fall with the 50/50; I'm into late December and I am just now declaring myself able to run without hearing a single echo of the fatigue and stress of the 26.2 we both ran here in Chicago. Meanwhile, he's piled on almost two thousand additional running miles. I'm not even sure my body has traveled two thousand miles, including air travel, since then. And yet, he's calling it quits because he missed home and the logistics of the run weren't working out to his liking — mostly that he couldn't connect with kids, schools, and other runners on his impromptu route, GPS technology and blog be damned.

If I get a chance, I definitely want to share a few miles with Karno someday; this time I'd actually like to meet the guy, rather than just vainly chase his contrail during the Death Zone miles at the end of a marathon. It sounds like he's already scheming something for 2007. I can't wait.

I've been gone almost a month. I've got no good excuse for not stopping by to say "hullo." Here's what's happened:

• I got my butt kicked at the Turkey Trot 8K in Chicago on Thanksgiving morning. The first mile was great — a 6:48 pace — but somewhere in mile 2, both calves locked up much like they did almost a month earlier at the Marathon. I mean, come on. Electrolyte cramping at mile two, for crissake? Something was horribly wrong with the machinery, and I finished in pain, posting a 36:05 / (7:16 pace). Sure, that sounds decent overall, but I pretty much couldn't walk afterwards, as soon as things stiffened up nicely. It took until the Monday after T-Giving to descend a flight of stairs without a full handrail kung fu grip. I'm a kinesiology research project waiting to happen. What kind of post-marathon blues are these?
  
• Still no HDTV at the Shobe household. I think it will be highly correlated with a basement remodeling project. Wefloat, I'm heeding your advice about not renovating 100% of the house at once.
  
• Registration is closed for the Indianapolis Mini-Marathon (half marathon). I'm a sucker for massive entry fields. 35K+ are signed up for this May 2007 event. I'll be running this one with a good friend from early running days in Chicago who's since moved to Ohio; Indy's a good halfway point for both of us to meet up.
• I ran 5 miles today in balmy December conditions here in ye olde Park Ridge, IL. Excellent conditions. None of the symptoms from the Turkey Trot plagued me, and even though I've only run 6 other miles total since Thanksgiving, I managed to find my "home" pace of 7:28, the ghost of Boston qualification past (and present). I'm positively thrilled.
• steveobd heckled into spending more quality time with my XBox 360. You know what? It's a pretty kick ass system, and their execution of the online gameplay experience via XBox Live is the gold standard. The headset smacktalk system is genius hardware/software integration, and the ability to find friends and challenge them to a quick game of Whatever is exactly as simple as it should be. (I can only hope Major Nelson is a little bit proud of me, as a 36 year old getting back in touch with his 18 year old gamer self.) Good luck, Sony. You're gonna need it, at least where online is concerned.

How have you been doing?