Moving Forward

I've gotten over the disappointment of not running Philly. My main concern now is getting back to running. I miss it. My problem: I don't know what to do. For the past three-plus weeks, I've basically stopped running. This is starting to drive me batty. But I'm trying to listen to my body, something I clearly failed to do initially. My Achilles still hurts. It's not a pain that causes me to limp, but it's a dull ache that's greater in the morning or when I've been sitting for a period of time. Dr. Pribut has always been my main source for injury advice. His take is interesting: he doesn't counsel completely ceasing running and recommends against stretching. At this point, I don't know what to do. Part of me is scared to run. I went out for a run 10 days ago that was OK, nothing terrible. But I don't want to end up running 20 miles a week and never getting better. My impulse is to find some cross-training activity and take a break from running for December. This means getting over my gym-phobia and accepting I'll lose quite a bit of running fitness. The other alternative is to bite the bullet and visit a doctor, another course of action I'm not crazy about.

Limitations

There's a great quote in The Lore of Running about what running taught the author, Timothy Noakes, about life: "It has taught me who I am and, equally important, who I am not." Lots of people focus on the everyone's-a-winner mantra. This is the marketing fiction, where it's nothing but success, awesomeness and glossy photos. Running is both more complicated and more fickle, an endless repetition of a couple steps forward and one back. It's undeniably about achieving goals, but inevitably involves coming up short sometimes. That's what Noakes is getting at: we have our own limitations that running makes abundantly clear. Ultimately there's no hiding. This has happened to me too many times to count, probably most notably my comic collapse 200 yards from the finish of the Delaware Marathon. There's nothing glamorous about getting dragged across the finish line after falling three times, then getting IVs stuck in your arm. And of course, it was my fault. I didn't train enough or respect the heat. I laid in a terrible hospital corridor on a gurney after an ambulance ride that ended up costing me $500 just beside myself. I hate screwing up. The hardest part is not only admitting it but then trying to learn from it and do better. As athletes, we rely on our bodies so much yet sometimes take them for granted. This isn't fair. It's self-absorbed and even arrogant. And the end result is a carelessness that ends up in disappointment. I'm not running the marathon on Sunday. That's OK. There are other races. I will run under three hours soon, I know it. What I need to focus on now is making amends for some mistakes, realizing my limitations, why I ignored them and how I can make 100 percent sure they don't happen again. That's not an overnight thing, it takes work. I'm ready to start. Nothing worthwhile comes easy, right?

Self-Help Edition

This is ostensibly a running blog, not some kind of group therapy. But times are tough. I appreciate the messages of advice and encouragement. I want to do the right thing. Barring any disaster during a run tomorrow, I'm doing the marathon. My guess is I'll be fine, although probably unable to run the way I'd like. I don't feel I'll risk long-term damage. I'm hopeful it will work out. We all hate disappointment, especially when it happens suddenly after a period when training was going great. Life can be that way. Something can go from awesome to oh-shit very quickly. It's probably normal to find it unfair and waste a lot of energy trying to figure out how I screwed up. That's only useful to a degree. I'm a big believer in dealing with things as they are, not as I wish they'd be. The best I can do is accept this as, in many ways, out of my hands, while doing my best to make it turn out as I hope. I'd love to believe I'll wake up tomorrow or the next day with it all better. Part of me thinks that's possible; another part of me knows it doesn't work that way.

The Way Ahead

I haven't updated the blog much lately, mostly because it's about running and I haven't been running. To be precise, my last run was on the morning of Election Day. That night, I came around to the realization my Achilles is injured. Ever since then, I've missed running. I hate it when I can't run. But I know I need to heal. Everything I read about Achilles injuries is scary. After 12 days of not running, I needed to know what was up. I can't say that I don't have pain after all that time off. I do. So today, along the Bay Trail in San Mateo, I set out on a 5.5 mile run. The first half mile was not good. I felt like my gait was different. Every step hurt. I felt like I was trying to find a way to land my foot that was comfortable. Eventually, I warmed up and completed the run without much drama. It wasn't the best run I've done by far, and I do feel some lost fitness from all the time off, but it wasn't excruciating. My verdict is mixed. I know my Achilles won't be right by Sunday. That's impossible. The question is whether I risk damaging it more by running a marathon or just skip the race. My head says the the latter choice is best, maybe split the difference and find a marathon somewhere in early January. But I don't want to do that. I have a good sense of what's wrong for my body. I think I can run the marathon without doing any long-term damage. Will I break three hours? I honestly don't think so. I'm simply not running confidently. My goal is to accept the race as it is on that day and try to do the best possible under the circumstances.

5.5 miles, 44:37

Seeing The Big Picture

This is the post I've put off writing. After 10 days of denial, I finally admitted that I'm injured. That hard long run at the end of the 70-mile week? It was a mistake. My Achilles hurt for the next week, but I just cut back my mileage a bit and gobbled Advil. The thinking is similar to Kubler-Ross's stages of grieving: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. Finally on Tuesday, I reached acceptance: I'm hurt. I feel discomfort when I walk. I run compensating for it, and slowly at that. This is difficult. I've worked pretty hard the last several months to run a great marathon. Now, two weeks out, I'm faced with the prospect of losing that chance. Still, I'm hopeful. I'm using rest, anti-inflamatories, ice and stretching. I'm using The Stick. I haven't run for three straight days, the longest layoff since I ran the Flying Pig Marathon in the spring. I'll try my best to get the Achilles in as good of shape as possible and see what happens. Oddly enough, while this is trying, I don't feel overwhelmingly disappointed. As much as possible, I try to keep things in perspective. Life, just like running, is full of ups and downs. In the big picture, the marathon is just a day, a race that in effect celebrates and validates a whole lot of effort over many months, even years. Yes, I'd like to run 2:58 or 2:55 on Nov. 23, but if I don't, that's OK. It wouldn't take away what I learned through months of training. I'll try my best and see what happens. If this is meant to be, it will happen.

Finding Inspiration

Marathons are inspiring. Many people go to them, see the people of all ages and shapes out there doing it, and determine to run one. I can understand that. I remember watching my first marathon as a new runner in 1999, wondering whether I could do that. The process of discovery began soon thereafter. Today, nine years and 13 marathons later, I went up to Harlem to watch the New York City Marathon. It is great spot because the crowds are thinner and mile 22 is where I think the real stuff starts. George Sheehan once wrote about this point of the race as where "the miles beyond will challenge everything he holds dear, his value system, his lifestyle. They will ask nothing less than his view of the universe." This is where I go, after the elites have long since passed, to appreciate how awesome it is to see people doing something individually extraordinary. I clap and look at the faces, twisted in determination (and sometimes resignationan), knowing they have their own stories. And it is inspiring. It makes me ready to set out on my own in three weeks to see what I have, where I can go and what will come of it.

5.75 miles, 43:53

Nike Chooses Image Over Reality

One of my favorite running quotes comes from "Once a Runner," the John Parker novel about Quenton Cassidy. It's admittedly a bit corny.

Running to him was real, the way he did it the realest thing he knew. It was all joy and woe, hard as diamond; it made him weary beyond comprehension. But it also made him free.

It's true because running is pretty stark. At the end of the day, you can't fake it. Natural ability will only help so much. The more you pour into it, the more you get out. There are no style points. That's refreshing because in our modern world, the reverse is too frequently true. Often image is more important than reality. I was reminded of this when I got a Google link to The Nike Human Race book to commemorate the 10k the company held in August. What's clear from my original post about The Human Race is Nike screwed up and put its marketing goals ahead of runners. Now it's looking to upsell those same runners with a 256-page glossy book, "The Day the World Stopped to Run." (That'll run over $50 when you're done with customized cover and shipping.) Ana and I IMd about this today. She has written about this already when it comes to brands. Her idea is that often brands try to communicate an abstract image while people's perceptions are increasingly formed by their real-world interactions. All too often images have the upper hand. The reality of the Nike Human Race was a poorly planned race -- really more marketing event -- that frustrated many participants. What Nike wants people to see is a glossy image of "inspiring" photos and little stories about runners overcoming adversity. This is all surface, the typical reliance on images. People run for so many real reasons -- to lose weight, to do something extraordinary, to find out more about themselves -- and that should be celebrated. The way to celebrate that is by doing right by runners in reality, through great products and services, not treating them as props for the marketing machine.

The Week's Miles

Today is four weeks until the marathon. It was one of my toughest weeks of training, a full 70 miles. Because of the half marathon last Sunday, I flipped around some of my training. My schedule called for 11 miles with VO2 max work on Monday. This wasn't going to happen, so I substituted two five-mile recovery runs. I concentrated on the mileage this week, but ended up doing a fast 12-miler, mostly at sub-7 pace. I woke up not feeling great that day, but I had a bit of adrenaline and then met up with a very fast runner to keep my pace. So it was a strange week. I felt very strong running, yet I didn't do tempo or VO2 max. It was topped off with a 20-miler yesterday that was either a bad decision or a sign I'm ready. I ran Central Park in a gusty wind and occasional showers. I appreciate the advice about keeping my training paces down, but at this point I'm running on feel. I know what a fair long run pace feels like. I ended up running a hilly 20 at about 7:15 pace. Afterward, I felt fine, although all the miles made me a zombie last night. My recovery run today sucked for the first few miles, then felt like a breeze. I could be wrong, but I'm pretty confident right now. The injuries are gone, for the most part, and I've never been in better shape in my life. Even when I wake up tired, once I start running my body takes over. This week, I'm back to true speed work. My miles will begin to decrease slightly to 63, a semi-recovery week. There are only two more weeks of tough training before the taper.

5.75 miles, 43:43

Did Nike Blow It Again?

The other day, Darryl sent me a link to a column about the unfortunate case of Arien O'Connell. She ran the Nike Women's Marathon in San Francisco over the weekend in a PR of 2:55. It turns out it was the fastest time the day. The problem: Nike had 20 "elite" runners go off 20 minutes before the field. The race's official results had another woman as first with a time of 3:06. My first thought was injustice and another case of Nike totally blowing it. But then I thought about it some more. This was a tough one. Marathons aren't time trials. Yes, it seems clear that Arien was the fastest runner that day, but there is a strategy to racing that can't be dismissed. It's not just USATF rules. It's simple logic: you adjust your pace based on your competitors. Yesterday, Nike awarded Arien fastest chip time for her run. This was the right thing to do. What mystifies me is that the race had so many slow "elite" runners. I'm sorry, but a 3:06 and above is hardly elite. Nike said it wouldn't have an elite start next year, which it clearly doesn't need for a race without any prize money or true elite runners.

12 miles, 1:23:38

The Week's Miles

I'm now a month from the marathon. It was important for me to figure out where I am with training. That meant trimming back the mileage somewhat to run a solid half marathon. The race went well, well enough that I feel fairly confident. Otherwise, it was an uneventful running week. The training at this point is what it is. I get up, run, work, eat, sleep. When I'm done with one workout, I think about recovering for the next. It's not obsessive -- I won't make running the only thing I do outside work -- but it is second nature.

Miles: 62

Ready

I woke up with the regular pre-race nerves today. Any number of things can go wrong during a race. Feeling nervous is normal. In fact, if you don't feel nervous, it could be a sign you're not preparing seriously. But I knew this wasn't my goal race, just another step along the way to what I want to achieve in a little more than a month's time.

One of the things about races is they don't go as expected. I always compare the trials, tribulations and pure joy of running to life. In this way, racing is no different. Things happen. Today, lots of things happened. we picked up a hot Mustang from the Hertz dealership, then began the drive south. We got lost. I'm not sure how it happened, but before we knew it, we were in Mount Holly, which is not Seaside Heights. After rejiggering our route, we arrived in Seaside Heights a little after the start time. "Maybe they'll go off late." Just then, a stream of runners went by on the boardwalk ahead. Ugh. After parking the car and scrambling to the registration, I was set to run nearly 15 minutes after the race started and 10 minutes after a 5k went off.

Thing is, it would be easy to say forget it at this point. No stretching, a slapped on number, a brutal wind and a field miles ahead. Running of course isn't like that. Off I went. The odd part was running at a hard pace by the 5k runners and the back of the half-marathon pack. Many were startled and understandably wierded out. Once I began running, I felt normal. The hard part was setting a pace on my own. It's easy to relax when you're streaming by dozens of people. But the first few miles were at a really brisk pace. At mile 6, I did a 6:01. At that point, I had visions of possible Olympic greatness. Then I met the reckoning when we turned for the back half of the race. It turns out the "brisk wind" was between 30mph and 40mph. Seriously, I can't remember running in anything like it. My pace ballooned. I felt fine, but I was having a hard time even running straight because I'd get bounced around. It was particularly severe because the course went along the shore. By the time I got back to boardwalk for the last three miles, sand was stinging my arms and legs. I finished with plenty of it in my sneakers. I held on. I started to run out of energy the last two miles. I didn't take a gel, and the Seaside Half Marathon not only didn't offer Gatorade but gave out water in bottles. For real. My goal going in was 1:25. I ran a 1:24, the most unusual race I've ever run by the splits. They're crazy, everywhere from 6:01 to 7:19. If I'd started with everyone, I'd have gotten 8th place.

In the end, I'm happy with how the race went. I know I'm there, I really do. Any number of things can happen in Philly on Nov. 23, and they might. I accept that. Still, I know the work has paid off and I have the ability to run really well.

Mile 1: 6:06
Mile 2: 6:12
Mile 3: 6:03
Mile 4: 6:11
Mile 5: 6:02
Mile 6: 6:01
Mile 7: 6:15
Mile 8: 6:44
Mile 9: 7:19
Mile 10: 6:34
Mile 11: 6:45
Mile 12: 6:46
Mile 13.1: 7:24

17 miles

Time for Testing

Today is 36 days until the Philadelphia Marathon. My inevitable question to myself is: Am I ready? I don't know the answer. Qualitatively, I feel like I'm nearly ready. My endurance is off the charts for me. Last week's 22-miler didn't kill me. My tempo runs are coming along. I don't feel terribly injured. Still, I don't know for sure where I am. Only a race will really tell me that. So tomorrow morning I'm picking up a car to drive two hours to Seaside Heights, NJ, where I'll run a half marathon. My goal: 1:25, which would put me exactly where I need to be for a sub-3 marathon. This would be a PR for me of more than two minutes. I've run dozens of races, yet I still get nervous for them. Part of it is a common motivation: fear. For me, the fear is always I'll take the easy way out, ease up when it's tough. It's somewhat irrational. If anything, I probably tend to overdo it -- see my two trips to the hospital. Still, it's always there. A little fear of failure is probably a good thing overall.

5.75 miles, 41:51