01.19.09
Posted in Andy's living testimonial at 2:48 pm by Andy
I’d put these up late last November as preliminary goals for 2009. I’d like to work through them and see if they still make sense, maybe flesh out some of those that are not as defined, or if I want to add any to the list. In no particular order, here they are (were?):
1. Consistency - become a true 25-30 mpw runner by the end of 1Q, and then go from there.
2. Race more in first half of 2009 at short distances, training appropriately.
3. Sub-22 5k
4. Sub-6 mile
5. Monkey IV
6. Perhaps another fall marathon (Columbus?)
Consistency
The thought process: In the 25-ish months of my semi-consistent running life, I’ve been and felt less than consistent in my training. Even in my periods of training for goal races, I’ve had trouble keeping myself on task. Some weeks, I follow my plans and will hit the 20-30 mpw I laid before me. But in the weeks surrounding the good training, I have too many 7-12 mile weeks. This is something I’d like to fix this year.
I’ve found it difficult to work running around the rest of my activities, especially during the spring and summer when softball games are ever present. I’ve come to realize that this is most likely because my priorities were not with running, but with softball/comfort/laziness/etc. This is all fine, but my priorities have changed. Now, I want to run and do well. So things have to change.
First I have to define the statement “I want to […] do well.” Do well at what? What is running to me? I’m a very competitive person, and I’ve being constantly reminded of this in recent days. My friends and family are repeatedly saying how I go all out for everything and can’t stand to lose. A more apt description from my point of view would be that I work hard enough to be good at something if I think I can be better than others around me. If I see that I cannot easily best my built-in competition (friends and family), I don’t try. That way, if I “lose” I have a handy excuse.
I’ve recently realized that at this point in my running life, running is very much about competition for me. So when I say I want to do well, it’s in the realm of competition, racing, and time trials. It’s not necessarily competing against other individuals, though it certainly can be in the right circumstances. More often than not, it’s competing against myself and striving to be the best I can be and working for personal bests.
I’m coming to realize that until I train properly, I will not improve properly. There is a lot of potential to be realized, and I’m making running a priority as far as activities go. Two to three months of consistent running with little emphasis on increasing volume or intensity should get me into a routine that will set me up for big gains in the future. I realize that I won’t set my world on fire by running 20, 25, or 30 miles per week. Delayed gratification is a very foreign concept to me. I want what I want, and I want it as soon as possible. But I’ve learned that running doesn’t work this way. I may make some gains by training inconsistently, but until I’m willing to put in regular work I won’t come close to being the runner I can be.
Decision: This is a good and necessary goal to have. I know I said that these were in no particular order, but I do feel that if the consistency issue doesn’t go away that the other goals will not be impossible but certainly more difficult to achieve. This one is staying.
Race more
I’m not sure what the magic number is, but seeing as how I’m driven in part by the competition aspect it kind of makes sense. In 2007, I ran in five races. Of those I ran four with the intent on doing as well as possible, one I was a pacer for a friend (and failed in my mission). Last year, I ran in four races. Of those I ran three with the intent on doing as well as possible, one I was a pacer again, and failed again.
This year, I’ve got five races (and one mega-stunt) tentatively planned and would like to consider adding two or three more. On the calendar so far this year:
• Couch Potato 5k – Bowling Green, OH – April 25 (goal: run hard)
• Cap City Half Marathon – Columbus, OH – May 2 (goal: new PR)
• Komen Race for the Cure – Columbus, OH – May 16 (goal: pacer, sub-30)
• Relay for Life – Hilliard, OH – May 30 (18-hour endurance stunt)
• Columbus Marathon – Columbus, OH – October 18 (goal: new PR)
• Harpeth Hills Flying Monkey Marathon – Nashville, TN (goal: new course PR)
I’d like to add a few more 5k’s to the mix and possibly a 10k as well. Perhaps integrated into the late summer / fall marathon training would be fun. In addition to “official” races, I will also schedule a few mile time trials throughout the year, along with some trials at other short distances as well.
It may seem like a lot of racing to some, but it’s what makes it fun for me. I don’t train to lose/maintain weight, for fitness, or for fun (though some training is fun). I train to race. So I’m going to race.
Sub-22 minute 5k
My current race PR is 23:20, and I’ve done 23 flat in a time trial. Both were done off of relatively light (and inconsistent) training. After three months of consistent 25-30 mpw, I’ll be jumping into a truncated 8-week HM training program. I’ll have one 5k race just before my goal HM, but will not likely be going full bore in that race, preferring to save myself for the next weekend. The month of May is full with all kinds of stuff, event-wise, but I’ll probably use this time to put together some sort of 5k training plan with the intent on going for broke some time in July and/or August. I have no idea what the 18-hour endurance event is going to do to me physically; I suppose it’s not impossible that I’ll be ready to go beforehand. But I’m not going to push it.
So why sub-22? I have no idea. It’s completely arbitrary, and it’s a full minute faster than my current personal best. It seems to be doable in that sense, but enough of a leap to make it difficult. I won’t be crushed if I don’t hit this, but I’ll be surprised if I don’t.
Sub-6 minute mile
My current PR is 6:28 set last spring in a time trial. I’m going to give this another go in early/mid April, and see where I have to go from there. If I don’t get it then, I’ll be making the next series of attempts in June-September.
Why sub-6? Again, a mostly arbitrary nice, round number. A 90-second quarter mile is a good hard effort for me at this point, and being able to push through at that pace for four laps and put up with the suffering would be awesome. I think a major key for me in both this goal and the previous is not being afraid to fail.
Fall marathons
As noted above, I’m planning on both the Columbus Marathon in October and the HHFMM in November. The goals for each will be vastly different, though. I’m going to gear my training for the Columbus race in terms of scheduling, with the intent on knocking out a huge PR in my hometown race. My current “PR” is from my first last fall, the HHFMM (4:45:29) and was set on a woeful base. I should be able to crush that time in Columbus. With the fitness base I’ll have coming out of Columbus, I’m hoping that recovering from the October race won’t have too much of a negative effect on the November race, but all I’ll be looking to do in Nashville is break my time from the previous year. If everything goes according to plan this year (HA!), that shouldn’t be a problem. At the very least, I’ll get another nice stroll through the park.
There may be more I’d like to add, but I can’t think of anything right now.
For whatever you might be planning for your 2009, I wish you the best of luck and fortitude to see it through.
See you out there.
Also, I think I finally fixed the comments issue on the blog. You should be able to leave your comments on the posts, now. Let ‘er rip.
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11.25.08
Posted in Andy's living testimonial at 11:58 am by Andy
So you have fair warning, I haven’t even begun this yet and I have a feeling it’s going to be quite long. So if long reports aren’t for you, here’s the precap: it was awesome.
For the rest of you, here we go:
Late last summer, partway through my training for my first (and only to date) half-marathon, I scheduled a trip to Nashville to run in Percy Warner Park with the race director for the Harpeth Hills Flying Monkey Marathon. As an aspiring runner, I felt it would be criminal to be on vacation two hours away and not run in the park that he won’t stop talking about. So I dragged my buddy Jerry to Nashville on a hot Saturday morning, and Trent took us around the park loop for a nice 11.8 mile jog. That having been the longest run of my life, and I’d never really run on hills (I live in central Ohio): I was physically destroyed after that run. I couldn’t eat for hours after the run due to a lingering feeling of nausea and my legs were sore for at least a few days. But something in my brain clicked after running that course. Trent will tell you it was the “Idiot Switch”, and while I can’t say for certain what it was, I knew I’d have to run that race. For a slowly developing (read: uhh… lazy) flatland runner, this was going to be interesting.
I read as much running material as I could get in my hands. I checked books out of the library, read running magazines of all types, and did my best to absorb the advice of the more accomplished and experienced runners I “knew” online at RunningAhead.com. I was going to be properly trained for this marathon, and make a nice debut. To make the rest of the training story short, I play a lot of softball and this (the excuse) along with a chronic case of laziness (the truth) kept me from training as I had intended. To what extent? I had planned on steadily increasing weekly mileage to a peak in the mid-30’s, getting my long run out to 20 miles at least once, and running regularly 4-5 times per week. This ended up being realized as two weeks in the mid-30’s, with surrounding weeks of less than 10 total miles. My longest two runs prior to the start line were 17.5 and 18 miles. And while some weeks I ran four or five days, other weeks it was two runs.
I was consistently inconsistent, to the point that I could sense the slight apprehension others who knew the situation had in asking me, “are you ready?” In fact, that exact question was thrown around in a little bit of jest by some of my fellow Monkey runners at the pre-race dinner. My answer: yes. My lone goal from the beginning had been to finish the race. To some with more talent or dedication to make their first marathon as competitive as possible, I’m sure this sort of statement is anathema to them. But to me, that’s what it was, and I knew it was attainable. There was something else lurking in regards to this race (no, not flying monkeys, Trent), but I wasn’t sure what it was or if I would figure it out.
Fast forward to race morning. First lesson learned: when looking at the temperature forecast for the day, remember that the high temperature won’t occur until mid-afternoon. At 7:15 AM when I stepped out of my truck, it was simply damn cold. I walked to the tent to pick up my packet containing my bib number and other goodies, and was freezing by the time I got back to my truck to affix my bib and decide how many layers I would leave on my body for the start.
Everyone had said how personalized this marathon was, and when I pulled out my packet, I knew this to be true. The front of my packet had my number and name on it, and on the back of the envelope was carefully scribed: Undertrained. LAME. Personalized, indeed. I suppose if it bothered me, I would have not made my log public. But I was fully exposed to ridicule, and have to admit I laughed a very chilly laugh when I saw those words.
Apparel choices made, I delivered my brownies to the baked goods table, and hid myself in the crowd to await the start. After getting a hug from my mom (special thanks go out to all those that made the trip to watch and support: Cheryl, Mom, Mike, Sandy, Jerry, and Misty. You were more than awesome) I found the crew I knew I would be running with at the start (Pam, Cheryl, and Mike from RunningAhead), and it seemed like in no time we were off (finally, after only about 800 words… sheesh).
Since I knew I was undertrained, and wanted to finish, I figured I’d start slow and go from there. An uphill first mile of 10:05 (I think without any walk breaks) was a little faster than it felt, but not uncomfortable at all. It was quickly tempered by a 12:12 mile two. This felt a little slow, but Mike and I fell into a pretty good rhythm towards the end of this mile and miles three and four averaged just over 11:00 per.
Towards the end of mile four, we embarked on what felt like the first nasty climb. I don’t remember exactly what happened, but the next thing I knew Mike wasn’t beside or behind me any more. I couldn’t see him. We hadn’t signed a pact to stick together or anything, but I felt a little bad about it, especially when Pam jokingly chided me for leaving a man behind when I told her a few minutes later that I’d “lost” Mike. Nonetheless, I had decided late the night before that I was in this for me. I was sure Mike would understand. I had to find out what that lurking question and answer was.
I caught up with Cheryl and Pam in the downhill mile seven. My crew was waiting near the water station just after mile seven, and even though I was still feeling fine it was nice to see familiar faces. I hope I smiled and said the appropriate thanks, but I was just trying to not look too pained each time they saw me. We all grabbed something at the aid station, and I resumed my trek up the hill and back into the heart of the park. Cheryl and Pam took a walk break, and I turned around to yell at them, “I’ll see you when you catch up.” I heard Cheryl say to Pam, “he’s looking good, I don’t think we’re going to catch him.” My spirits boosted by those words, I hoofed it up the hill and ran most of the next ten miles on my own.
As I was going through miles seven through ten, I was trying to remember what was coming up next from my prior experience in the park. I forgot how brutal “Three Mile Hill” is. But I made it up, and as I was scaling the rise (mile 10 or so) the leaders were coming down the hill already finishing their 14th mile. The perfect antidote to having the life sucked out of you on that hill was having three of the guys who were booking down say, “Drew, you’re looking good. Keep working hard.” I hope they know how awesome that can make someone feel, and as a first timer at this distance it was a much needed lift. Thanks, Jeff, Mikey, and Andrew. Around mile 11 I saw the crew again, and ditched my gloves and hat as I was getting a bit warm. Jerry ran the next quarter mile or so with me, and I was on my way. I don’t remember much of the next three miles, but I know saw everyone again just past mile 14 as I rejoined the main drive. I “found” Mike at this intersection, he was with everyone else, taking pictures and wishing good luck. With a few words of encouragement, I was back off again.
Miles 14-18 are mostly a blur to me. I know that sometime in this stretch, I started to feel a slight bit of soreness in my hips and could tell that my hamstrings were not as loose as they were at the start. But no major problems, and I kept on trucking. Up and down the rolling hills I went. The funny thing about every mile (except for the first two or three) to this point was that I was recording the splits on my watch as I always do, but wasn’t even looking down to see what they were. I was impressed with myself that I could eliminate the need to be tied to that data. I’m glad I didn’t in this race, or I might have talked myself into doing something stupid (okay… stupider), like going faster.
At mile 17, I spied Michelle and Eric in my sights. Finally, some folks I knew! Over the course of this mile, I slowly began to reel them in. Step by step, breath by breath, they drew closer. Nearing the end of mile 17, Jerry was awaiting to run down to the stone gates with me. I told him I was a little cold and my fingers felt fat and stiff. He told me, “maybe it’s time for you to HTFU.” Slightly taken aback by his lack of empathy, I glanced down to my right wrist, where my black wristband told me the same thing. Stupid wristband. I sucked it up and kept going. As we neared the bottom of the hill, Michelle caught up with us but Eric was still behind, working out some issues in his quads. The crew was there to cheer me on, and they again provided a much needed lift. I took some peanut butter crackers and turned back to the trees to what I knew was ahead.
Michelle and I talked for a minute or so while we walked, and discussed how things were going to this point. Mile 18 was uphill, turn, uphill, turn, uphill, turn, rinse and repeat. That hill would not die. I finally achieved the sensation of an elephant sitting on my chest somewhere during this climb. And here I was thinking it would never hit me. We finally hit the top, circled Luke Lea (awesome view!), and continued the march. I was now past the point of the longest run of my life. And I knew I was hydrating and pacing well, because I didn’t feel any worse than I had at home after a flat 18 miler.
Michelle and I both seemed to be fighting the same internal battles. Somewhere in that 19-23 stretch, she said to me, “if I’m holding you back, please go ahead.” I told her I was about to tell her the same thing. The walk breaks were becoming slightly more frequent (now up to a minute or so every five or six minutes of running). Slowing to a walk was painful. Starting to run again was painful. The best part of these miles to me, and I swear I’m not making this up, was the running. When we were moving along at that steady pace, I felt very little pain. I just felt the finish line growing ever closer, and I knew I wanted to be there. We crossed mile 20 somewhere around 3:30, and I did happen to glance at my watch then. I knew that unless something crazy happened, I would be finishing this marathon in less than five hours. Despite my best efforts to keep time out of the running equation, I now had something else to keep me moving towards both the finish line and the answers I hoped I’d find there.
The clouds thickened a bit in the sky, the sun kiss was gone, and I was cold. I remember someone saying that they find it tough to determine what to wear in this race because they always get cold in the last six miles, and I was finding this to be true. There were occasional gusts of wind that would bite through the layers and run a chill through me. By this time, all sense of decency had gone out the door, and I was using my shirt to wipe my nose (c’mon, I’m running a marathon, cut me some slack). Every step forward I’m imagining me crossing the finish line. It’s a dream that is so close, but not close enough.
We passed the steeplechase, and I knew the golf course was next. As we rounded a corner, we saw it. The golf course hill. Trent, you are a bastard, just sayin’. And I’m an idiot. I looked at Michelle, she looked at me, we looked back at the wall of asphalt that seemed to go straight up in front of us, and I said, “we’re walking this hill.” We slowed painfully, and started to walk up the hill when I heard screaming and yelling coming from the top. I recognized the silhouette of my crew, and looked bashfully over to Michelle and told her who it was. She calmly stated, “we’re running this hill, aren’t we?” We agreed on running part of the hill, and started dragging our dead legs towards the summit. Two thirds of the way up, we gave in to gravity and temporary exhaustion, and finished the hill with a walk. A few words of encouragement and we were back running again, my family and friends left behind. We would see them next at the finish.
The last three miles I don’t remember a lot about. Three things stick out. The first was a volunteer at a fork in the road. To the right was a nasty uphill climb, to the left was a downhill jaunt. I was so afraid she was going to direct us to the right, that I nearly kissed her when she told us we were going downhill. But that would have wasted energy, and I had little to spare. The next thing I remember was my crew showing up again between mile 25 and 26. They gave one last cheer of encouragement, and those wonderful words of “less than a mile to go, you can do it.” Michelle and I agreed on one more walk break so we could finish strong for the crowd. We took a few seconds to gather up the remaining bits of energy and strength, and headed off to the final destination. As we left the main drive, the final volunteer was sitting bundled up with a dog in her lap, pointing to our left towards the finish field. I asked her if the dog was helping to keep her warm. When she said yes, I asked if I could borrow her dog for the last 0.2 miles. I didn’t stick around long enough for an answer because I’d figured out in my head what the question and answer was that I’d felt was lurking somewhere in this race.
Michelle and I squeezed through the path between the trees, and made it out onto the grass. Boy did that feel good on my feet. I could see the finish line. I could HEAR the finish line. I could hear my wife screaming from almost a quarter mile away. And I’d figured out the question. “Do you want to be a runner?” My pace quickened, from the 10:00-11:00 we’d been running, I was now running hard. I felt Michelle slowly slip behind me, but I knew the answer and had to grab it. I made the final turn at the big pine tree, and broke into whatever sprint was left in my body after 26.1 miles. I hurtled my body towards the finish line. I glanced at the official clock and saw I was going to finish in a time I wouldn’t have believed if you’d told me at 7 AM that morning.
I couldn’t believe how good it felt to run hard and fast. It was amazing. I crossed the finish line at 4:45:29, and I had my answer. Yes, I want to be a runner. (Please note, these characterizations only apply to me and my self-perception. I am not intending to denigrate the efforts of anyone else out there. This day, and this report, was about me and nothing else.) I stumbled over to my waiting family and friends, and took a deep breath to fight back the tears that were bubbling just beneath the surface. Hugs were issued, hands were shook, Trent came over and said something about me being an “undertrained fast idiot”, and I was done.
I am a marathoner.
I changed clothes, got a quick post-race rubdown from the onsite massage therapists (thanks!), got a little to eat, chatted with some of the wonderful people I’d met in the last 24 hours, and in short order started the trek back to our cabin in the middle of nowhere.
I learned a lot from this experience. Among other things, I learned that it can be a lot of fun to put your body into a torture chamber like Percy Warner Park. I learned that mental toughness is easily as necessary as physical toughness. I learned that it was a lot of fun to run with someone like me (Michelle also seems rather quiet and shy, yet tough). I learned that people who are personality opposites of me are also fun to run with, and I learned that the folks who are affiliated with this marathon (from the race director and volunteers to the participants and spectators) are great people who love running.
And most importantly for me: I learned that I am a marathoner, I want to be a better runner, and I can’t wait to do this again.
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10.23.08
Posted in Andy's living testimonial at 12:52 pm by Andy
As the witching hour draws near, I’m determined not to start droning a “woe is me” song like a Gregorian monk on barbiturates. Instead, I’ll complain about my lack of consistency in the hopes that I will shame myself into doing better.
In the last few weeks, I’ve had some good high points (most miles run at one time: 17.5; most miles run in one week: 34), and some maddening low points (nine runs in the now 22 complete days of October, only one of which was more than six miles). I’ve been sick, I’ve been healthy, I’ve been injured. Damn it, I’ve been everything but consistent. The pattern is incredibly frustrating, all the more so in that I realize what I’m doing and still do nothing to fix my situation.
After bouts of pitiful time off, I’ll smartly set out for a four to six mile run, not overextending things. My legs will feel tight, I’ll get pissy, and by the time I’m home I’m swearing at every rock on the sidewalk with complete lack of sanity. The next day, I wake up intent on repeating the process, knowing full well that this run will be better than the preceding. But I cannot get the stiffness and frustration out of my mind, and I tell myself I’ll run every other day. The next day, I intend to go out and run eight easy, but because I haven’t gotten into any pattern of regular pavement pounding, it starts to feel “bad” too soon, and I cut things short. Four again. If it weren’t for the mind numbing number of three mile runs I did all spring and summer, I’d hate the number four more than anything right now.
And then out of nowhere comes that wonderful week I had starting October 6. 6 miles / Softball / 6 miles / Rest x 2 / 4 miles / 17.5 miles. Finally forcing myself out of bed early that Sunday morning, I was out enjoying the cooler weather for over three hours.
Running isn’t always fun. There are some days, be they three mile or fifteen mile runs, that are very enjoyable. And there are some days where every step is a chore. I let the ugly steps cloud my judgement too much. I know that every minute spent running is helping me in some way, I really do. But lately it seems like the knowing isn’t enough.
I think I made an unwise (for me) choice when I set my gold medal goal for this race as finishing. I’m not afraid of the hurt I’m going to endure during and after the race, but the inconsistency of my training because I know finishing is not enough of a challenge for my body has been troubling me more than anything. In my mind I see myself running consistently 5-6 days per week, 30-40 miles per week. And in reality I run 2-4 days per week, 10-30 miles per week. The variability, with little regard for the fair plan I’d established, is shameful to me.
So it is in conclusion, that I submit the following plan for myself for the next four days, including today. 4 miles today, 7 miles Friday, 4 miles Saturday, and 17+ on Sunday. That would be the best four day stretch in my young running career, and I feel it’s still well within the bounds of safety.
The last time I ran four days consecutively? June 18-21.
I’d say wish me luck, but that sounds too much like I’m leaving room for failure. So more appropriately, stop back in a few days and see how much I rocked it.
**Update 1**
4.3 miles in 42:39.
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09.09.08
Posted in Andy's living testimonial at 12:44 pm by Andy
Life has been busy lately, all around.
Work = busy
Running = busy
Other activities = busy
With everything going on, I’ve not made enough time to update my corners of the online world. I last wrote on August 13th about the completion of Phase 1 of my training and some of the highs and lows I’d gone through. In keeping with that theme, here is a rundown of the last three or four weeks.
The Good
There are so many little good things, that I’m feeling very positive. I’m not receiving any negative feedback from my body with the slight increase in mileage, which is a major plus. My last two long runs have been done using a run/walk strategy, which has been interesting. Simply put, I walk the first 90 seconds of each mile, then resume running at a normal pace (whatever feels “easy”) for the remainder of the mile. What I’m finding is that not only are my miles ticking off at a remarkably similar pace to what I was doing before, I’m also not wearing myself down quite as much and I have more energy left at the end of a run. After completing the longest run of my life on Sunday, 14 miles, I had some aches but was not physically spent. I’m thinking that it’s more and more likely that I’ll use some form of this in the marathon.
The “Bad”
A point I made after Phase 1 was that I had not missed or shortened any runs. Sadly, I cannot say the same at this time. Between excessive amounts of softball (some day I’ll learn to say “no”), non-running related injuries, and some neat circumstances (seeing an old teacher of mine out on the trails and stopping to talk for 20 minutes), I’ve missed a few runs or cut some a few miles short. I’m not proud of it, but I’ve been very careful not to let these things take root and last more than one day, and I also don’t let myself get down about the situation. Life happens, and you have to move on. I could easily sulk about a missed run or two, and let it drag me down for a few weeks. But the smarter thing to do is to pick up and get back on track.
Somebody I know stated that if every run you do is training for a certain event, you can get down too easily and it quickly becomes boring and feels like a job. But if you think of each run as a very small part of your entire running life, you don’t feel the pressure and are more free to enjoy yourself. Some days, this line of thinking is very helpful.
The Ugly
When I play softball, I only know one speed. Full. Sometimes, this gets me into situations that a 145 lb man doesn’t need to be in. One of these situations, hypothetically of course, would be trying to tag out a guy running at me full speed. Did I mention that this guy outweighs my by 30+ lbs? Well, I lost that trainwreck and messed up my left arm for a good week. Thankfully, I happened to find myself on an Equivita training table within 48 hours of the collision. The friendly staff (Do you notice how it’s always “friendly” and “helpful” long after the fact, but when you’re laying on that table, those aren’t the first words that come to mind? Interesting…) listened my description of the pain, did some tactile assessment of the situation, and gave me my “prescription” for the next few days. I followed the directions, and within 4-5 days I was feeling back to normal again. I’m thankful that I wasn’t hurt worse than I was, but I’m very glad that I have folks available to me who take a few minutes to help. Some people would go straight to the doctor for an MRI. And while in some cases that’s certainly warranted, this wasn’t one for me. I just hope I don’t get a $1,700 bill from the friendly, helpful staff for their work.
Phase 2 of marathon training is done, and I’m right in the middle of Phase 3. My long run two days ago of 14 miles is the longest distance I’ve ever done. That record will last until this Sunday, when I go for 15. It’s a little over 10 weeks until I sign my life over to the monkeys.
Game on.
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08.13.08
Posted in Andy's living testimonial at 10:12 am by Andy
As noted in the previous post, I created my marathon training plan. The basic premise is that I’ll be running easy paced mileage, steadily increasing to a long run of 20 miles three weeks out from the marathon. The 18 week plan is easily broken into six three-week segments or phases. In each phase, the long run increases in length for two weeks, and then there is a “cut-back” or recovery long run before moving on to the next phase. Each phase builds on the previous one, culminating in a final “long run” of 26.2 miles.
I finished phase 1 a few days ago, and at this point I’m feeling very good. Although I’m pushing some days back here and there, I’m completing all the runs each week. This is key for me, as in the past even when I’ve had a written plan to work from I’ve missed days here and there. There have been days when I’ve been eager to hit the road, and days where I’m wishing I was glued to the couch, but I’ve been out putting in my time and sticking to the spirit of the plan.
Keeping my runs at an easy pace has been key to my success so far, I believe. In the past I’ve tried to keep my aggressive pace while increasing mileage, and I always seem to end up with some pain or another that keeps me from progressing. This is not to say that I’m running appreciable mileage now, but it is notable that I’ve put in back-to-back 20 mile weeks for the first time in 11 months and I’m feeling very good. I’m happy with this. I realize that my training and experience will likely leave me all but crippled at the finish line of this marathon, but I’ll get there.
The last month has not been without it’s ups and downs, despite the generally easy track taken. Of note on the high end, I set a new personal record in the 5k on July 26, running a 23:20 at the Dash for Donation in downtown Columbus. I ran hard, nearly lost my breakfast at the finish line, and was very pleased with my effort. Of note on the low end, playing softball has aggravated my left calf and made it very painful to sprint or run hard. Thankfully, sprinting is not a part of my marathon training. But pain is still not a welcome house-guest. I’ve been doing as much icing as I can, resting when able, and not overexerting the muscle. After nearly two weeks of said attention, things seem to be improving. I’m happy with this, as well.
In the coming weeks, I’ll have long runs of 11 and 12 miles, and by early September I’ll be up to the longest runs of my life at 14 and 15 miles. Sooner or later, I think I will realize that I’m a moron for doing a marathon so soon.
I’m just hoping there is a camera present to capture the moment of enlightenment.
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07.11.08
Posted in Andy's living testimonial at 10:08 am by Andy
I’ve done plenty of hard/medium/easy training 5k’s in under 30 minutes, but the only races I’ve done at that distance are the huge Komen races where I run with my buddy. So while my unofficial 5k PR is 23:00, I know that 30:08 is where it stands officially, and that’s what I wanted to change in this race.
I pulled into the parking lot at the park, and there were dogs everywhere. It was a run to benefit the local humane society, and leashed dogs could run the course with their owners. This should be fun.
As I’m walking over to the registration tent, my body reminds me (through sweating) that it’s hot outside. Hopefully this woudn’t affect my performance. I had a long weekend out in the sun last week, and I was still recovering from the wicked sunburn. The course was an out-and-back setup, going around the park, down the Rails to Trails path, and back. To put it bluntly: no shade.
I got my race number (good ole 61), and waited for the start. With about ten minutes to go, I took a jog of about a quarter mile to begin the warmup process. As I was strolling down the path, I noticed that while it wasn’t listed as being humid according to relative humidity (45-ish percent), the air was a bit thick and made deep breathing a chore. This was not encouraging to me, but I quickly put it out of my head.
The start was imminent, but nobody wanted to toe the starting line. The MC stated, “we’re starting the race whether you guys are ready or not, about one minute.” With that, a few of us reluctantly went up to the line. I’ve never been this close to the start line before, usually I’m a good football field away, or more. Last night… one foot. It was slightly intimidating, but nobody else wanted to do it so I thought, “…what the hell?”
The horn went off, and we shot out of the gate. That first 25 yards was too fast for my blood, so I settled into what felt like a sub-8:00 pace. Surprisingly, not too many folks passed me. I was expecting to get trampled by the shy-elites, but only 10 or so people went by in the first half mile, including two women who were running with their dogs. I wasn’t too excited about this (the dogs beating me), but knew that this was not the point in the race to “win”. As we exited the park and headed out on the Rails to Trails, I was pleased to see that while the dog ladies had passed me, they were not extending the gap. They stayed about 20 yards in front of me. I decided that I would hang tough.
I also noticed that right around these dogs were some guys who looked to be about my age. I would keep them in my sights as well, and hopefully have the gas to pick off as many competitors as I could. After what seemed like a lifetime, we passed the one mile marker. I did not hit my watch, I didn’t want to know. I was running kung fu. The heat and sun were taking their toll and making me warm, but I was not breathing hard. Usually, when the going gets tough, I start breathing in rhythm. This had not happened yet. I decided that if I still felt okay, I’d pick up the pace a bit at the turn-around.
As we approached the cones signalling the mid-point, I had begun to close the gap on one of the dog ladies and two of the four guys I was chasing. I threw a little burst in right before the hairpin and passed one guy, then went by the other guy and one of the dogs just past the turn. I kept the effort constant, and slowly reeled in the other dog lady (running with two cute pups). At about 1.75 miles, a younger girl (from the sound of her voice) and I both passed the dogs, her on the left and me through the grass. The girl (turns out she was 27 with a very young voice) and I were shoulder to shoulder for about a minute, but I dropped her, too. The other two guys around my age were about 40-50 yards in front of me, with about 1.25 miles to go. Too much distance for me to worry about just yet. Keep the effort constant and continue the push. If they were there for the taking later on, I would do it.
Two miles came, and I hit the watch lap timer this time (I’m weak, I know). I looked down to see something like 15:39. I was okay with this, but could pretty much tell that going sub-23 was out. But I figured I could walk it in and break 30, so I smiled and kept the pressure on. We left the rail/trail and went back into the park, which meant about 0.5-0.6 miles to go. To my surprise, I’d significantly closed the gap on the two gents in front of me. One, Mr. Green Basketball Shorts, struggled up the tiny 8 foot hill on the path, and I used the small downhill to blow by him. One more guy to go.
This whole time, I’m listening to jangling dog tags in my ears coming from behind me. The lady with the two pups was close by, and I didn’t want to be beaten by them. As the heat was sapping my energy, the dogs changed in my mind from cute little puppies to mangy dogs who must be beaten. I was NOT going to be out-kicked by these mutts if it took everything I had. With about a quarter-mile to go, I hear their owner tell them they just have a little bit to go, and, “c’mon, lets finish guys!” I expected them to blow by on my left, but it didn’t happen. All the while, the last person I can catch is about 10 yards in front of me and is maintaining his distance.
We passed a gazebo which I knew was about 0.15 miles from the finish, and I decided that whatever kick I possessed was going to get used now. I was breathing heavily now, the effort was catching up to me, and I know that guy had to hear me coming. I figured he’d fight for his spot, but I rocketed by him easily and sprinted to the finish. I breasted the imaginary tape at 23:49(!!!!) and staggered to a walk. Sweat pouring down my face, nausea very present, I walked to the table where they had a few medals left. The guy at the table asked how old I was, and when I said “30,” he told me I “missed it by one year.” They only gave awards to the top finisher in each age group. Oh well, I had my PR and a strong finish. I was pleased.
I figured that I was somewhere in the top 30-40 overall. When I looked at the official results this morning, I found that I was 3rd in my age group, finishing 17th overall. I know not a lot of people showed up (none of the local elites), but wow was I surprised! Top 10% overall, 16% gender. No complaints at all, a very fun night.
My official marathon training begins on the 21st. If you care to view the plan, click here.
Thanks for reading. Let the games begin.
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07.07.08
Posted in Andy's living testimonial at 12:50 pm by Andy
Some web browsers are set up with Auto-Complete functionality enabled, where if you begin typing something in a particular field (address, phone number, title, etc.) that you’ve typed before, it presents you with the ability to complete the entry with a single click to save you some typing. I find this to be a useful tool when completing entry forms for online purchases, etc. And I’ve recently found it to be an enlightening tool when it comes to my writings.
Last week, I started a private entry in my running log titled “I need a running buddy”. Turns out, I’d made an entry with the exact same wording almost a year, to the day, prior. How odd.
Today, I’m typing the title of this post, “When will I learn?”, and it prepopulated for me. I’m tempted to believe that I’m repeating myself. I’m also tempted to believe that I’m having difficulty learning from life as it passes me by. Both may be true.
What I’m most inclined to take away from the crappy schedule I’ve kept over the past two weeks is that I need a plan and said plan needs to be posted on my refridgerator. Otherwise, I make it too easy for “life” to get in the way and distract me from progressing.
I’m a runner, but I’m also many other things. Balance is not something that I’m noted for acheiving. My typical path in a hobby (aka, things I like) is this:
- Introduction by chance
- Casual interest blooms into obsession
- Obsession manifests itself physically and mentally, and like a flame it’s insatiable consumption eventually marks it’s demise.
I like running, and I don’t want to quit. But I’m deathly afraid that if I let my emotions guide my running rather than reason that I will be done before I know it. This is not something I want to accept, and my goal going forward is to be reasonable.
Why is all of this coming to the fore right now? Who knows. All I know for sure is that I’ve run less than 12 miles in the last 2 weeks, and that’s not going to cut it. The emotional side of my brain is telling me that I need to make up what I’ve missed if I’m to have any chance of doing well in November. I also hear rumblings that attempting to do a marathon with the base (or lack thereof) that I have is stupid.
You know what, I think that “they” are kind of right. But I also don’t care. I’ve stated all along that I have no goal for November 23 other than to show up, have fun, and finish. I don’t need to run the whole thing without stopping. I don’t need to finish under four hours (or even five!). I don’t need to worry about placement, time, the opinions of others, or anything other than what I want to get out of this event. And that’s doing a marathon.
It’s suggested in some circles that doing a marathon just to do it is less than noble. From the standpoint of those people, I understand and accept this statement. But I have to be careful not to let the thoughts of others become my own without reason. I’m not to the point where I can say that I’m suitably trained for really any distance, let alone a race that covers 26.2 miles. I feel comfortable in saying that if you put a gun to my head and said, “run XX miles or you’re a dead man,” that I could do it. But I don’t feel like I’m anywhere near my potential at any distance. For that, I need to exercise patience. Something else of which I’m not noted for possessing massive amounts.
The marathon will come, I will be there, I will finish. It may not be pretty, it will likely hurt, but it will be. There are highs and lows in every cycle, and I wouldn’t call this a high. It will be hard work to get where I need to be, and now is the time to plot the path back to good times.
Did I mention that nine or ten months is a long time to be thinking about a goal race for someone so new to the sport? Sheesh…
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06.20.08
Posted in Andy's living testimonial at 9:09 am by Andy
Things have seemed to be hit or miss in the last few weeks, let me get you up to date.
First of all, it seems that my forced rest from the road has been mostly positive. One episode aside (I’ll get to this in a minute), I’ve been mostly pain free in my right knee/ITB area. I’m focusing more on taking things even easier/slower, so that as my mileage goes up I’m not putting undue stress on things. It’s been hard to focus on easy, but it’s been rewarding.
My one major mileage event of the spring was my annual participation in the Relay for Life, the 18-hour event put on by the American Cancer Society. I had set a goal for myself to complete at least 15 miles this year, to surpass the 13 I did last spring.
The weather cooperated for those on the track, and it was comfortable and dry for the duration. I ended up taking the bulk of my shift on the track from 1:30 AM - 4:00 AM. I decided that when I was running (which I’d intended to be about 75-80% of the time), I would shoot for a 10:00/mile pace. I felt that this would enable me to keep going without feeling stressed. After a rough start, this strategy proved to be a winner.
The first two miles were painful. My right knee was killing me, and it felt like someone was sticking a fork in the side. I considered walking, briefly. But then I had a classic “middle of the night moments of rationalizations for doing something stupid”. We were running/walking to raise money for cancer. There were people present who had suffered from and survived that dreaded disease. And there were countless more who hadn’t made it. I was wearing the initials of two grandparents on my leg who had been taken by cancer. I’m sure that each of these people who’d been unfortunate enough to be touched by cancer had experienced more pain than I can fathom, much less what was going on in my right leg. I decided to push forward.
Stubbornness and stupidity were rewarded. At about mile 3, the pain went away. Because it was 2 in the morning, I’m not sure if I just imagined that it was gone, or if my legs loosened up enough to allow things to move smoothly, but I was pain free. The next ten miles flew by. Not in the sense that I was running fast, because that certainly wasn’t the case. They flew by because I was enjoying myself. Enough that I’m considering lining up something really stupid for next year’s event.
When all was said and done, I had completed 15.5 miles. And the best part was that my legs didn’t complain one bit afterwards. That is encouraging to me. Pretty soon, I’ll be doing plenty of runs that are 15 miles and longer, and it’s good to know they don’t completely wreck me.
Last week, we were on a family vacation in South Carolina, and I made a goal to run each of the six days we were there. A long story made short, I didn’t accomplish this goal. I ran four of the six days, but did get a lot of “cross training” in doing some body surfing and swimming. I felt a little badly that I didn’t accomplish my goal, and that brought me to this week.
Last week was the last week I had structured as part of my spring plan. My motivation was slacking a bit, and was (sadly) complacent with the lack of mileage I’d run in the recent weeks. Some odd “conversations” I had with a very good runner were very motivating to me, and I realized something. I’d made mediocrity acceptable.
Don’t want to run? No big deal, you can go tomorrow.
Don’t want to stick to your plan? No problem! Even though those workouts were scheduled for a reason, do what you want!
Feel like half-assing it? Now you’re talking. All that matters for you is finishing, anyway… right?
Two weeks ago, I made a comment at work to one of “the suits” that “I’m a person who likes to be good at what they do, so if I’m going to be doing something, I’m striving to be the best I can be.”
That’s a true statement, but after reflecting on my recent running, I found it interesting that I’d save a statement like that for use with my vocation as opposed to something that I really enjoy.
Bottom line, nobody is forcing me to run. I do it because I like it. And anything that’s worth doing, is worth busting your butt for, right?
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05.24.08
Posted in Andy's living testimonial at 8:57 am by Andy
We’re getting ready this morning to head down to a hilly portion of Ohio (read: not Columbus). We’ll be visiting some family over the long weekend, and I decided that it would be a good time to get in a little run.
I did some looking at some of the courses I usually run, and the elevation profiles associated with them. The final numbers usually look something like this: 8 ft gain / 8 ft loss. Over five or six miles. Pretty rough, huh?
I mapped out the route I’m going to run later today. The elevation profile looks nothing like the flatlined monitor I’m used to viewing. This run? 633 ft gain / 633 ft loss. Over 4.85 miles.
This is going to be awesome.
I haven’t run since Monday, if you even count that (I do). And I haven’t run hills of any kind since last September. So today is going to be an educational experience. I’m going to take it slowly, and not try to do anything than be strong the whole way through. I’m expecting it to be a hard effort, but fun.
Are there flying monkeys in Southeastern Ohio?
Update: There were no flying monkeys yesterday, but I did cut my run a bit short. My right knee was bothering me on the way up the hill, so I decided to cut about 1.5 miles out of the run and just do one major uphill and downhill. Up the hill (1.67 miles) was done in 23 minutes, which works out to a 13:47 pace. This was one long hill. Damn that hurt. Down the hill was done in 11 minutes which works out to a 6:36 pace. There were sections of that where gravity was doing 95% of the work and I was just making sure I didn’t face plant on the asphalt. It was slightly scary.
Today, I don’t feel terrible at all, but I can still feel a little residual soreness from the run yesterday and my workout on Friday.
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05.22.08
Posted in Andy's living testimonial at 1:20 pm by Andy
Disappointment
I’ve mentioned that Jerry and I were trying to go under 30 minutes in the Komen Race for the Cure. When we lined up Saturday morning and the gun went off, we felt good. The temperature was ideal for running, the course was changed from previous years which provided for better scenery, and our legs felt strong.
And the whole first mile was stop and go.
I never saw the mile marker for mile one, but I never felt like we got going. I’d be willing to guess that we were running close to 11 minutes/mile at that time, which wasn’t going to cut it. We picked it up a little a wound our way around Goodale Park, which was very pretty. Running in the Short North is enjoyable, and I hope to be able to do it again soon.
I knew from the course flyer approximately where the mile 2 marker should have been. When I passed the general vicinity, I checked my watch and saw that we were nearly on target for just under 30 minutes. We needed to run our final mile in less than 9:30. Piece of cake.
As we turned to run south on High Street, I noticed about a quarter mile after the turn that there was a little sign on my right that said “Mile 2″. I didn’t think this could be right, but stated to Jerry, “if that sign is correct, we need to run this last 1.1 miles in 7:30.” Then we laughed, because that would not be happening. We were running together, and I was not comfortable that we could both do that. I wasn’t even sure I could do that without proper preparation.
So we kept our pace consistent, and rolled on towards the finish. The finish line banner loomed larger about 200 yards away and I looked at my watch again. 29:30 and counting. I turned around and told Jerry we had 30 seconds, thinking it might be possible. The next thing I know, he’s blowing past me to sprint to the line. I pulled in right behind him, and we cruised to the finishing chute. I clicked the ‘Stop’ button on my watch as we crossed the line, and looked down to see the results.
We walked wordlessly through the finishing chute, handed our bib information to the volunteers, and headed on to get our water and bananas.
Without turning around, Jerry said, “we didn’t meet our goal did we?”
“Missed by eight seconds,” was my reply.
We talked about thing for a few minutes, ran through the meaningless excuses, and decided that we would try again in a month or two. The Race for the Cure is a wonderful event, but very difficult to run a great time because of the large crowds. The fact that we made a decision to stay together made it even tougher to weave. But we’re not using these as excuses, we’re going to race a 5k in July and see what we’re made of. I can’t wait.
Atonement
I’m perfectly fine with the statement that I was not incredibly upset at not meeting our goal last Saturday. But I’m also not the type to let things go unchecked. I had Sunday scheduled for three miles, presumably to recover from the race the day before. As the Saturday race was pretty easy, I decided to go all out on Sunday and go for broke in a hard 5k.
I went out hard, kept it up through the second mile, and knifed my way through a vicious headwind in the last half mile. The only thing that slowed me even the slightest was the nausea I was experiencing with about a quarter mile to go. I was suspicious that if I kept up the pace I was running that one of my neighbors would have some projectile vomit in their front yard. I didn’t feel like ejecting my breakfast, so I slowed up just enough to keep things where they belong.
I crossed the finish line sucking wind, and fell into the grass in my front yard. I looked at my watch. It stared back at me, 23:23. Damn, that felt good.
Pain
I went out for an easy five on Monday night, and it was quickly apparent that all was not well in my right leg. My IT band had been slightly aggravating me the last week or so, but proper warm-up and cool-down procedures and stretching had kept things from getting too bad. What started as an uncomfortable run quickly progressed to painful, and for the first time in my life I not only cut a run short, I quit running and walked home. It was the smart thing to do, I’m sure, but it took a big bit of pride swallowing to switch from that painful hobble to a walk. A five mile run turned into a one mile run, and I rested the rest of the night (and got a very painful massage on my legs as well).
Tuesday I felt like I was 90% healthy, but decided that a day off here is better than a week or more off later. More ice and stretching were done, and by yesterday I felt back up to par.
Last night was a softball game, as is tonight. Tomorrow I’m scheduled at Equivita, so the earliest I’ll get back on the road will be tomorrow night or Saturday morning.
But I’m not worried. I’d rather get this stuff fixed now, than arrive in Nashville six months from now, hobbling around broken.
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