Posted by: herb | July 29, 2010

Badwater and Ultras

Running on the Sun


I remember when first watching Running on the Sun, how fascinated I was about Badwater. The thought of running (or travelling by foot) over 135 miles through some of the toughest extremes on earth was mind blowing. It sort of opened my eyes to how far people can really take their ability to run long distances. To me, at the time, Badwater represented a type of epitome of long distance running.

I remember describing the documentary to my wife, who has no interest in anything running related. While trying to pique her interest enough to get her to watch the documentary with me, she interrupted me mid sentence and asked “Herb, you’re not planning to do this are you?”

I laughed. My immediate thought and response to her was, “Are you crazy? No way! I have absolutely no desire.” And I meant it. The thought was ridiculous. This type of thing is not for me. The training would be more than what I would be willing to do, nor could I afford the time needed for this. Plus, I the monetary costs are ridiculous. Nearly $900 just to enter, plus there are costs for yourself and your support crew regarding travel, lodging, meals, and equipment for carrying out the race.

Nah, no way! What the hell for? I promised her never.

When I found Tony, who has already done Badwater once by the time I met him, I was somewhat in awe that someone who lived right in my neighborhood has done this race. Eventually, this led to an opportunity for me to crew for him on his second attempt. The three of you or so who read my blog on a regular basis already know that I’ve just recently returned from this adventure and have not yet fully wrote about the details. And I won’t yet be delving into them in this post either, but I’ll probably spread it over a series of posts as soon as I figure out what to focus on.

Well, what’s the point of this post then? I’ll get to that shortly.

Whenever I made mention of the fact I would be crewing Badwater, people joked about how I would be running it next. I always dismissed it. Others who were crewing alongside me were mostly crewing because they had plans to do the race in the future. It is well known that crewing increases your chances of getting accepted when applying. I repeated many times out there when asked by others that I had no plans to do the race.

Jack Deness and his better half.
I want to be like him when I grow up.

Well, perhaps when I grow up, I might want to be like Jack. He was doing Badwater for the 12th time when I was there. Maybe when I’m his age I’ll give it some consideration.

Since I’ve returned, I learned Badwater is different from what I imagined.

Not necessarily better, not necessarily worse. Just different and not quite what the documentaries capture. The best way I can sum it up is the fact that the event is even more bizarre than I imagined. There are things I learned about some of the people doing the race, and what they’re doing in addition to the race that blows me away. It’s also a lot of work and a lot of suffering for everyone involved. In some ways, I was truly turned off by it. In other ways, I’m left in awe and admiration. I’ll save these details for another time when I can truly delve into them.

Since returning, I’ve also found myself thinking more and more about Badwater. I’ve imagined myself running parts of the course that I covered pacing, as if I was racing it. I’ve caught myself fantasizing about this and fantasizing about returning to Death Valley. Thinking about it while doing my long run. Imagining what I would have to do to prepare if I were running Badwater. I’m convinced I am capable of running this race and I almost want to try.

But, I really don’t.

In fact, I’m quite conflicted about ultras in general at the moment. Right now, I have no desire to go beyond 50 miles. I know I could go past 50. I know if I wanted to, I could do a 100. Sure, it’s easier said than done, but to simply cover the distance, I’m confident I can do that.

But, I learned something during my first and only attempt at running 50 miles. I learned I don’t want to walk these races. I learned this when I was forced to walk because I went out too fast and hit the wall after 30 miles. Most of all, I learned there’s a difference between being able to cover 50, or 100, or 135 miles, and being trained to run over these distances. If I do this, I’m going to be doing the latter.

I also felt this way about running the marathon before I did one.

Currently, the marathon is a distance I love. For me it’s the furthest distance I’m currently trained to race right now. It happens to be and oddball arbitrary distance – 26.2 miles, but it’s also a standard race distance. With the marathon, I can feel the adrenaline pumping as I think about it. It’s the same adrenaline rush I get when I think about other race distances from the 5K to a half marathon. A 50K, however, could fulfill the same joys and self-satisfaction for me as the marathon does. I feel I could prepare myself to race a 50K.

Is that mile 50?


Meanwhile, thoughts of a 50 mile dredges up the thoughts of a tortoise. Slow and steady. This is because I’m not capable of doing a 50 miler any other way right now. And this isn’t a slight against those who run slower than I do. Actual speed is relative to the person who’s doing the running.

Weston the Pedestrian
The Father of Modern Pedestrianism


Ultramarathons and Pedestrianism have close ties. I realize there is a lot of walking that is done in this genre. I don’t judge anyone who walks in a race, but I figure, if I am going to say I am running a race, regardless of the distance, the majority of the distance should be covered by running.

When I am walking, or when I’m forced to walk, I don’t get that same rush and feelings of exertion that I crave which I get from running. I know I will be alienating other’s who are part of the ultra genre, and I don’t mean to. But, walking it is just not for me. It becomes almost a different sport.

When trying to discuss this with someone at Badwater, who just did his first and only 100, with a couple of 50’s sprinkled in, he explained to me with a smile on his face that I just didn’t have enough patience for an ultra. He walked the majority of his miles in his ultras, and I have no doubt he’ll walk his Badwater race if he ever does it.

What he doesn’t realize, and what I saw no point in explaining to him, is that there’s much more to be accomplished than just completing a distance. He seemed too satisfied with himself for me to bother.

Jumping into a 100 before I feel I know how to run a 50 is just not enough of an accomplishment for me. Going further than 50 right now would be premature. It would be faking it for me. Sure, I could do it and get away with it. But, what would I be proving?

So, my desire to shy away from ultras is not about my lack of patience for the longer distances. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. For me, it’s a deeper exercise in patience to truly learn the shorter distance(s) and how to pace it right to get my best time running, rather than slogging through it at a walking pace to just complete it. It’s just the kind of runner I am. The way I want to run. Again, I don’t judge him for how he chooses to run his ultras, or anyone else, but I’d rather not walk before learning to run.

So, I’ll do a 100 one day. Hell, I might actually even do Badwater for real. But first I want to race a 50. But not before I get tired of my love affair with the marathon. Sub 3 first!

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Posted by: herb | July 25, 2010

Queens Half Race Report

I spent quite a bit of time trying to figure out why I was going through with the queens half. Given the forecasted 100 degree heat it was clear there would be no PR for this race, much less anything near a time I would feel good about. Days before the race I already decided it would be a 13 mile tempo run. Worst case, it would be good preparation for the Bronx in august.

The night before I didn’t have any pre race anxiety since I wasn’t holding myself to any expectations. In fact, I polished off 2 bottles of wine and half a pie of pizza with Tony while reminiscing about badwater. Waking up on race morning I still felt the wine and considered skipping this all together. The only problem was I had plans to carpool with Mark and I still had to give him his bib and D-tag. I considered driving out to him just to drop it off, but realized how silly it would be to not at least do a training run along the race course

Driving out to Queens was quick and easy, and the parking situation was absolutely fantastic. Many spots right under the Van Wyck. I can’t think of any other nyrr race where there was so much available parking near the start. For those travelling by subway, that was also close by.

Getting out of the car I noticed it was already 88F. I was secretly hoping the time spent during Badwater and Las Vegas would help me manage the heat. For all I know, it might have. I might have had a tougher time otherwise, but I certainly wasn’t immune to the conditions as you’ll see in my race result.

At the start the announcements were being drilled into our heads as to how we should take it easy and not go for a personal best. Seek medical attention if necessary and drink plenty of fluids. Yadda yadda, etc etc.

The new Queens Half Marathon Course

Finally we’re off, and starting out things didn’t feel so bad. Without the sun shining on us I thought this race just might be manageable. I was pacing along side Mark and saw a 6:36 pace on my garmin at the half mile. I mentioned this and stated I would slow it down. First mile marker hit in 6:45

By the time we hit the second mile marker we were out of the park in mostly direct sunlight. Things were still bearable while I was able to keep in the shade when there was some. The smells at this point were absolutely sickening though. I began to wonder if this was in fact the Staten Island half based on the odors. The first smell we hit was a cross between fried chicken and fried doughnuts and it was so strong I was gagging. Hitting Mile 2 nauseas in 6:52, I began to secretly hoping for sub a 90.

To mile 3 we pass through quite an industrial area. On the left side came huge billows of black smoke right into the course from some construction site. All runners gagged. Mark joked about this part of the race as improving is CO max. Even before this I noticed the air quality was pretty crappy. I don’t usually huff and puff during a half marathon but today I was breathing harder than usual. Mile 3 in 6:54

Before mile 4 we turned around and headed back. In fact, the mile marker for 4 might have been right where the aforementioned black smoke was. Luckily none of it seemed to be there as we passed by a second time. Although, at this point the sun was out full force, less shade was available, and I was beginning to lose motivation. Why push hard for a sub par time? My split for Mile 4 shows it too. 7:08

Mile 5 was without incident but completely in the sun and I was baking at this point. Mile 5 split was 7:09

The water stops for this race seemed to be between mile markers. And at the one that was on the way to mile 6 I stopped to grab 3 or 4 cups of water and walked a bit while slowly pouring them over my head. In past races, especially my last half in brooklyn, I’ve felt guilty when stopping and walking. Today I had no bones about it and I was glad to do it. I wasn’t the only one either. Picking it back up afterwards things felt easier, and although the stops slow my overall pace, my actual moving pace became faster. Mile 6 was 7:28 with the water stop.

Most of the rest of the race in the middle miles are a bit blurry. I remember thinking this was thee hardest race I ever ran. I continued stopping at every water stop to dump water on my head. There weren’t many areas along the course e where we weren’t in direct sunlight, but I noticed the one or two areas where we did have shade I was able to run much stronger. I was glad because it validated I would have been capable of more on a better day. I also noticed there weren’t many people passing and most who did I later passed before the end.

Mile 7: 7:32
Mile 8: 7:34
Mile 9: 7:47
Mile 10: 7:48
Mile 11: 7:52
Mile 12: 7:52

Right after 12 we got some shade along the course and things felt best. Ironic since the last couple of miles are always the hardest for me in a half.

The Flushing Meadows Park Globe floating in a pool of turpentine.

Just before getting to 13, I started pushing hard as we ran around the big metal globe. All of a sudden I began to feel faint and dizzy, but not from the effort or heat. But rather from the turpentine fumes coming from the guys painting the pool that the thing sits in. I held my breath as I finished making my way around the bend.

Mile 13: 7:15

Just as I passed 13 and as I was passing other runners, some guy came past me like a bullet. I decided I should do the same and stuck with him. As we approach the finish line we got cheers for kicking and the announcer shouted both our names to my surprise.

Mile 13.1: 0:39
Finish : 1:36:40

Overall, my splits look slow but my moving pace was actually faster if you consider the fact I stopped for every mile to pour water on my head and cool down. Several times throughout, I thought to myself it was a shame to have this race during the hottest time of July. Despite the first crappy 4 miles and the wet noodle look of the course on the map, the new course had potential to be a favorite, and may even surpass brooklyn in popularity.

In the end I was pretty happy with my performance despite this being an absolute personal worst.
I’ve seen debate about whether equivalent efforts in the heat have as much benefits as faster runs in better conditions. I’m convinced the benefits are not the same simply based on how my legs feel. Nonetheless, there are a lot of good tempo paced miles in there and I feel satisfied with a good workout.

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Posted by: herb | July 22, 2010

Quick update

Last week I crewed for Tony in Badwater and spent the remaining week in Las Vegas. Crewing for Badwater was more work than I imagined, but I was glad to have done it and I got to see what really goes on during this race. For now, I’ll sum it up in one sentence since I dont have time to do a full post on it. It’s basically non-stop suffering for the entire race. Not just the runner, but the crew and everyone supporting the race. There’s so much more about this race though, but it’ll have to wait until I have the opportunity to blog about it properly.

In the meantime, I’m set to do the Queens half this Saturday. I do not have high hopes for this one. The weather is going to be pretty intense regarding the heat. Besides that, I havent been able to train well due to a number of factors, injury recovery, vacation, Badwater, poor weather, etc. I’m ok with it though. In fact, its a bit of a relief to be able to go into a race without the pressure of trying to live up to a certain standard or try to achieve a specific time. It’ll just be a hard tempo and I’m looking at it as preparation for the Bronx half.

Also, I need to start deciding on my fall marathon. Or maybe I’ll target the Vermont 50 miler instead and save the marathon for winter or spring (Boston again?)

Pacing Tony

Pacing Tony through Badwater. Photo taken by Steve Tursi

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Posted by: herb | July 10, 2010

Running in Cancun

As I write this, I’m onboard my wi-fi enabled flight to Las Vegas en route to Death Valley CA, to crew for Tony as he races Badwater. During the past two and half weeks, I’ve learned to appreciate even more the effort that running 135 miles in 130 degree heat will take.

I spent two weeks at Club Med in Cancun, Mexico for a family vacation. The entire two weeks were oppressively hot and humid in just 90 degree weather. It was so humid that my iPod nano bit the dust. Taking it from the air-conditioned room out into the hot humid air caused enough condensation behind the screen to permanently ruin it. I guess people living in Mexico with air conditioning aren’t able to own nanos.

All the running I did there was extremely slow and difficult. It could be due to a few reasons.

  • Time taken off from my foot injury, which is now pretty must healed, caused me to lose some fitness.
  • The 6 pounds I gained on the resort from all you can eat and drink.
  • The oppressively hot humid weather.
  • A combination of more than one of the above.
wet shoes

Soaking wet shoes stuffed with toilet paper. Dries them out by the next day every time.

Nonetheless, after every run, I came back with my shoes soaking wet from sweat. So wet that I found it necessary to stuff them each with a roll of toilet paper after every run in order to dry them out for the next day. This happens to be a great way to dry out running shoes if you ever run through the rain or puddles. Removing the insoles and stuffing them with newspaper works just as well.

When I first arrived and saw the beach, which stretched at least eight miles, I thought I would be spending the next two weeks running up and down it in my vibrams. Some of my most enjoyable running was done barefoot along the beach in Punta Cana, except for the fact I lost a lot of skin and had huge blisters along the bottom of my feet from the sand. But, with my vibrams, I was really looking forward to this.

beach

Great beach, but just not for running

The first day on the resort I was anxious to try this out so I immediately went for a run. I had suspicions this would go poorly when starting, however, because I noticed the sand was at such a steep grade by the water. At first, I tried running along this pitch anyway because its where the sand is usually the most packed and firm. Yet, it turned out to be surprisingly soft despite the fact. It felt like I was running through quick sand. Plus, my vibrams were filling up with a lot of quick sand each time my foot landed and became fully submersed in it. And the steep pitch gave the feeling of running with a stilt on one leg.

Moving closer to the water felt even tougher. Every time the tide came in, it came up to my knees. Now my vibrams were full of sand and water. Slodging through knee high water with sand filled vibrams proved to be very difficult. I was only 1 mile out and pretty exhausted. Profusely sweating and with the sweat mixing with my sun block, I was now attracting horsefly sized sand fleas. Hardly the euphoric picture that I imagined of lightly running carefree along a tropical beach.

Trying out the powdered sand was the only other choice. I went out one more mile in my wet sand filled vibrams, and headed back for 4 miles. It took me nearly 39 minutes to cover this distance but the effort felt like 7 minute miles.

Cancun

Nowhere to go but out and back.

The next day, I ventured out of the resort to see what I can do there. It turned out not to be too bad. The hotel strip doesn’t give much choice as to where to go. You can either go north or south, so out and backs were all I did.

Cancun Bicycle Path

Great stretch for 3 miles out

Some of the route had a very nice stretch with a bright red bicycle path. Other parts, the sidewalks were so shoddy filled with cracks and curbs I ran along the side of the street in the asphalt, but the drivers there were extremely courteous.

I was given plenty of room, despite it being a highway. Plus, every driver who needed to make a turn in front of me patiently waited until I past. Not the typical behavior I’m used to of the locals at other vacation spots; Aruba being the absolute worst.

One of the most interesting runs was when I woke up at 3am and decided to go out extra early to beat the heat. It was during the 2 days tropical storm Alex was passing by.

Starting out there was no rain, but I was wishing there was since I felt like I was running through a soup. The air was so humid my Garmin began to dampen the minute I stepped outside. The ipod I previously mentioned was still working on this day, but chose to leave it in the room because I knew it would most likely be raining by the time I returned. And boy, did it rain! I don’t think I was ever in such a strong downpour before. The drops were so big and came down so fast I was questioning if it was hail. I couldn’t see where I was running, but it was a bit of relief from the heat.

Blood Blister

casualty of barefoot running on the beach

After Alex passed by, quite a bit of the beach eroded away and some of the steepness was gone, so on a whim, I decided to do a 4 mile run on the beach on a day that would have otherwise been a rest day.

This time it was truly a naked run. All I wore was my bathing suit. No ipod, no vibrams, no gamin. But I knew where the 2 mile marker was from my first venture along the beach. It was better than the first time, but still quite tough. Not wearing the 5 lbs of water and sand filled vibrams on my feet definitely made it easier, but I was left with a nice blood blister after finishing.

A couple of days I tried out the treadmill in gym which were the life fitness models I’m used to at New York Sports Club. Despite the air conditioning, I sweated enough on a 60 minute run to leave the thing completely drenched, along with a nice size puddle of sweat on the floor behind it. Yes, it actually collected from rolling off the belt. For the next 15 minutes, I continued dripping and left a trail of sweat where ever I moved.

Other days, I did some cross training.



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Posted by: herb | June 15, 2010

Injured

For the past two weeks I’ve been avoiding my blog and most things running related. The irony in this is I’ve been spending more time thinking about running than usual. This is basically because I can’t run the way I’d like at the moment due to an injury I’ve been nursing.

This is the same injury I’ve alluded to at the end of my previous post.

For the first week, I did just 10 miles after nothing for four days. The next week, back to 50 miles, but mostly all slow and easy miles. Sunday, I was happy to be able to do 18 miles at a pace 30 seconds slower per mile than marathon pace.

Each day the injury has been better than the previous day, but I still feel it while walking. When these things linger for as long as they do you begin to wonder if its something that will ever go away fully.

It likely a soft tissue injury of some sort. I wrap it each night with a heating pad to promote healing. Despite conventional wisdom, I think cold and ice are often misused. This is a good article on treatment.

I’m looking forward to getting to where I feel I can do some speedwork safely. Hopefully, next week.

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Posted by: herb | June 1, 2010

Pineland farms 50 mile race report

Although I did the Caumsett 50k back in March, I feel like this race was my first real ultra. I learned a lot during this race, especially that there is a huge difference between a 50k and a 50 mile race. A 50k isn’t too far different from a marathon. A 50 miler is in another league completely.

I basically went in there with slightly more expectations for the 50 miler than I did for the 50k. For the 50k, I had no expectations. For the 50 miler, I was thinking I would maintain a pace of 7:50 to 8:30 per mile throughout. This is basically the range at which I run my easy pace or recovery runs with 8:00 being what i fall into most often. But, since this is on a trail and the course has a reputation of being hilly and uncomfortable, I decided to be extra conservative and stick to 8:30 miles. I later learned how naive I was about the distance, and got my ass handed to me as a result.

I travelled up to Maine with four other folks. Natalia, who is somewhat still new to ultras, but has at least a couple of 50s under her belt. Bob, who would not be running because he didn’t feel he was in racing condition, but would be crewing for us instead. Brian, who’s quite accomplished with 3rd place in Brazil’s 135 and is set to run Badwater this July. And Tony, who is also doing Badwater, and who I’ll be crewing for.

At the start, I thought to myself how I stuck out like a sore thumb. I was realizing how under prepared I was. I was the only one with no water bottle while most had two or a camelback. And, I had no gels or Perpetuum or any other kind of “nutrition”. I figured with the aid stations a couple of miles apart I’ll be fine.

The course was a 3.5 mile loop followed by 3 laps of a 25km loop.

I started out following Brian’s pace. I figured he knows what he’s doing so don’t pass him. Stick with him as long as things feel easy. We were maintaining 8:30s anyway, but it still felt slow. Because of congestion, he would get stuck behind on occasion, and before the first 3.5 miles, I lost him. He was behind me one minute, then he wasn’t the next.

Then I kept trying to find someone else to pace against. But, at this point everything already thinned out and there weren’t many around. Whoever I happened to latch on to, the pace would just be crazy with no consistency. Going uphill was ridiculously slow. Slower than I could run comfortably. Going so slow uphill actually felt harder than running an easy pace. If you’re the kind like me who prefers to run up stairs instead of walking them, you’ll understand what I mean. Then going downhill was ridiculously fast. Faster than I could run comfortably. Any faster I felt I would risk injury. Each time, I just wound up on my own again because I decided it was easier to keep even effort for up and down.

Somewhere around the halfway mark I saw a little over 3:30 on my Garmin. Average pace was slower than 8:30. I didn’t blow up at that point, but I knew it was coming. The surface of the fields were getting to me. With poor footing and running on slanted ground my feet were sliding within my shoes.

At the four hour mark, my Garmin gave a low battery warning. I also fell during the second lap and took a pretty nasty roll downhill a bit. Lucky, I wasn’t hurt at all. I cannot remember if I noticed my Garmin was off before or after the fall. But, I found out later the next day, the Garmin would never turn on again, which is why I don’t have splits for this report.

Coming around on the second part of the second lap with 20 miles to go, I stopped by Bob who was crewing for us and got some gels. I knew at that point I was going to crash and confided I wasn’t doing well. He gave me a salt tablet, along with a tylenol and words of encouragement.

Before I finished the second lap, climbing out of the second part uphill did me in. I was so nauseas, I considered calling it quits with 15 miles left. Then the thought of having to do just one 25km lap made it mentally easier, so I continued on.

The last lap wound up being a death march and I did my best to keep from puking the whole time. I was walking up hills and down steep declines. A lot of walking mixed into the running. I was dead tired and just wanted to stop. I never imagined it would get this bad.

Before finishing, Tony caught up to me and carried me out of the second part of the last lap (the same area where things went bad on the second lap). If he didn’t show up with Sid, who was pacing him, I would have easily dragged my ass along for an extra 15 minutes.

When we got to the aid station, he filled up his water bottle while I drank what I could and began sucking on oranges and kept sucking on oranges until he reminded me it was time to go. At this point we were on a mostly flat field and there was no way I could keep up with them, but with a mile left I knew I could get myself to the finish. Eventually, I did and was just so happy to be done.

The whole thing took me 8:50:40. I was out there for almost 9 hours. About 3:35 for the first half and 5:15 for the second half with the last 15 miles being the slowest. I’m not really happy about this. Not so much the time, but the execution.

I was toying with the idea of doing the Javelina Jundred 100 mile race in October, but I decided the time is not right for a number of reasons. I want to do another 50 before doing a 100, and I want to feel the 50 was successful. I wont put a time goal on it, at least not for now, but I’ll judge my success on how I run it. If I can maintain a consistent pace throughout the whole 50 miles, I’ll consider it a success.

Besides, a 100 mile race in October will take a different type of training than for a marathon. At the moment, I want to focus on another marathon in the fall. Training for a 100 will interfere with that. And, even if I could pull it off, I do not want to go out and just “do a 100″. I went out and “just did a 50 miler” last weekend, and in the end, I realized I was foolish for trying to wing it.

Despite that, I’m glad I did it and enjoyed the whole weekend as a result. The leg cramps, indigestion, and hiccups on the 6 hour ride home was even fun. I find people within the running community to be pretty cool, so naturally the people in the ultra running community seems to be ultra cool. The only regret I have is not better preparing myself for the distance; maybe more of a knowledge perspective rather than a physical one.

In the meantime, I’ve ordered a replacement for my Forerunner 305 and decided to upgrade to the 310xt instead of the new 405. I came very very close to getting the 405. I even had it in my virtual shopping cart, but after reading all the reviews, I realized everyone who loves the 405 never had a garmin previously, while everyone who hated it was comparing it to the forerunner 305. Plus, the fact that you can’t change things on the screen when it gets wet was the nail in the coffin.

And lastly, as a result of the poor footing and the 50 miles, I have something of an injury on my left big toe. It’s been cropping up, but I’ve been keeping it abated by taking a day off here and there. Now it hurts to walk so it might be a few days before I’m back to running. I figure, when the 310xt arrives, I’ll be ready to get back out there.

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Posted by: herb | May 26, 2010

GPS Problems

Lately, I’ve noticed a lot of issues with my garmin forerunner 305. I’ve been having problems getting a signal, and at times have lost the signal mid-run. When that happens, it’s been reestablishing only to have the signal lost again.

GPS

The device has always worked great in the past, and I’ve usually been able to get a signal in a few seconds. Most of the time with an accuracy of at least 20 feet. To lose a signal mid-run never happened before recently, and it’s been happening on my regular routes.

I wouldn’t normally mention this. Initially, I thought it was my device being old and becoming quirky. But, my navigation system in my car has also been having weird signal problems and that has never happened before.

I’m wondering if this is just me or if others are having similar issues with GPS.

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Posted by: herb | May 24, 2010

Brooklyn Half Race Report

As usual, I didn’t sleep much the night before the race. Having a 7am start meant waking up at 4am so that I could get out the door by 4:30. The pressure of having to get to sleep quickly so I can get enough hours of sleep always keeps me awake. I mostly just laid in bed the whole night somewhere in between sleeping and being awake. Each hour I would look at the clock to see if it was time to get up.

Some time after 2am I think I slept for a bit, less than an hour if at all, because I remember suddenly forcing myself awake to see it was 3:09am. The next thing I knew, the alarm was going off at 4:15am and I woke up in confusion from a deep sound sleep that couldn’t have been for more than hour. But, it was enough. I’ve performed fine on less sleep, so I knew I had nothing to worry about. Back in the beginning of the year, I mentioned I was hoping to break 89 minutes during this race, and hoping to be significantly under.

I made by way down to Mamaroneck to meet with Mark, and we would drive together to the start in Prospect Park. This race was a logistical nightmare, being a point to point, we would have to take the subway back to wherever it was we parked. Plus, finding parking by Prospect Park was something I was stressing about, and I believe Mark expressed concerns as well. It turns out the parking situation was not a problem at all. There seemed to be plenty of parking along Flatbush ave. If fact, there were hardly any cars that I could see. Nonetheless, we grabbed the first spot we could, which was quite a way from the start, yet right near the Grand Army Plaza train stop so it would make for a convenient return. We had plenty of time to spare and with things being a little chilly, walking to the start would be a good way to kill the hour or so we had. Plus, we had no bags to check in. Finding port-a-potties was the only task left to do.

While walking to the start, there was a long descent downhill. I saw the mile 2 marker and realized based on the direction we were headed, we would be going up this incline in the opposite direction. I found this somewhat intimidating. The only time I’ve ever run in Prospect Park was during the Brooklyn half in previous years when the course went in the opposite direction and ended in the park. I remembered things being tough in the park, but chalked it up to being the end of the race and going through the usual struggle one would expect. Now that the race is in the reverse direction and starts in the park, with two loops instead of one, I wondered a few days prior how Prospect Park compared to Central Park and found a thread on letsrun.com that seemed to say the two were comparable with clockwise of Prospect Park being easier. The race was counter-clockwise. And after the race, I would make my own assessment that two loops of Prospect Park is definitely more difficult than one lap of Central Park.

I decided my strategy would be to take it easy around the park, and find a fast pace when things flattened out for the last half. Thinking of the flat ocean parkway we were going to be running down in the second half, I was really looking forward to this race for weeks. I felt excited about the thought of finding a hard fast groove to finish out this race strong. I mentioned this to Mark, that I think it’s important to go easy at first and hit it hard in the end. I would then proceed to do the complete opposite as you’ll soon find out.

As we were headed to the race, the nausea I felt earlier from taking the doxycycline was coming out full force. I’ve been dealing with this since I found the lyme infected tick, and this is an expected side effect. It’s something I’m used to and hasn’t really gotten in the way of my running. Nausea is a familiar feeling for me during running so I just deal with it. Although, with no one else around, Mark had to hear my whining and complaints about it before the race.

At the start, I turned on the Garmin and couldn’t seem to get a signal. The status bar, which I question as to whether or not gives any real indication to the status, seemed to make it way to the right side slowly filling up, and suddenly jerk back to halfway. I’m convinced the status indicator serves no real purpose other than to give some entertainment to the person waiting for the Garmin to lock on enough satellites. I write software, so I’m guilty of doing things like this myself.

After resetting it and trying different things, I just gave up and decided to use it as a simple stopwatch to manually take my splits at the mile markers. I would have to forgo the luxury of knowing my average pace while running, and in the early miles, this would prove to be a problem for me.

Starting out, I tried to stretch out my legs and find a fast easy pace I could manage for the distance. The start was basically downhill so I had some trouble adjusting the effort. The first mile is always the toughest to gauge. And my split wound up proving that.

Mile 1: 6:30
When I hit the mile marker I was a bit surprised thinking I was doing something closer to 6:50. Unfortunately, since I didn’t have the GPS signal on the Garmin, I had to run a whole mile before realizing I needed to slow it down.

The second mile felt completely uphill. There might have been small parts that descended, but none of it was enough for relief. The whole time during mile two, I am managing my effort and I think its too early in the race to have an incline like this without a warmup.

Mile 2: 6:43
Although the second split is slower, its still too fast, especially considering the effort I’m putting into the hill. And the hill continues up to mile three. I made another effort to slow things down. It feels like the park is a spiral staircase constantly going up and around with out any downs.

Mile 3: 6:30
Gaah!! Still too fast! I almost got the first loop of the park done, but I’m questioning if I can do another loop. Shortly after mile 3, things are descending and the decent goes right past the start, but the incline begins again before mile 4. After mile 4, the hills during the second loop become tougher, and the pessimistic thoughts begin. I hope I can make it out of the park and that the flat course along Ocean Parkway would give me a chance to recover.

Mile 4 : 6:30
Mile 5 : 6:49
Mile 6 : 6:55
I’m putting a lot of effort in now, and the whole time I’m wondering if it’s because I’m running too fast or if the course is just tough. I’m typically strong on the hills and I cannot understand exactly what’s going wrong, but whatever it is, it’s too late to change anything. Should I be pushing harder to maintain pace, or slow it down even more which would be slower than target pace. I know, after this lap, I’ll be out of the park, and hopefully things will come together. I run downhill to mile 7, and exit the park.

Mile 7: 6:26
I almost have to remind myself that I still have 6 more miles to go and this is only the halfway mark, not the finish. Not only that, but things havent exactly flattened out yet. We have a couple of significant climbs to get to ocean parkway that seem intimidating but I get myself over them and on to mile 8. I asses how I feel. I compare it to how I typically feel when I have 6 miles left on my long runs at marathon pace. I know the exact point where I have 6 miles left, and if I felt like I did now I would want to slow things down considerably. I decide with only 7 miles behind me, the next 6 should feel easier than if I had 14 behind me. I decide I am not in good shape. I make my way on to 8 still hoping I’ll get out of this bad patch as I spend more time running on the flatter part of the course.

Mile 8 : 6:34
On my way to mile 9 things really don’t feel so well. I can’t pinpoint what exactly it is. My breathing is hard, my legs are tired, I was still somewhat nauseous, and things are getting hot. But it’s not clear what is bothering me most, but my pace was now slowing and I knew it. This is exactly the point where I should have opened up and did 6:30′s to the finish. Instead I was fading and people are starting to pass me. I’m angry at myself since I am now not going to get that opportunity to run hard at this point, which is what I’ve been looking forward to the most for this race.

Mile 9 : 6:50
I push on towards mile 10, wishing I had a reason to stop. I am mentally giving up now. I want to stop so bad and I cannot shake the thought from my head.

I think of conversations I’ve had with Tony, who does ultras. He spoke about dropping out of races and why he never has, and never will unless it’s a severe health issue or an injury. At the distances he races, a 100 miles or more for example, finishing is a real achievement, and in ultras, there is a high dropout rate. DNF’s are more acceptable in that genre.

But, to the point, I understood his reasoning. You drop out once, it becomes easier to drop out again. It sets a precedent and I completely identified with this when drawing my own comparison to stopping and walking a shorter race of marathon distance or under. I’ve never DNF’ed, but I’ve stopped in the past, walked it some, and even jogged it, which at that point, feels the same to me like a DNF.

Mile 10: 7:00
I hit mile 10. I’m disappointed to see I am so far off target of 6:45 pace. A minute later I stop. I am becoming that guy who walks when it gets tough. I’ve been setting that precedent. I can think of a time when I’ve wanted to stop so bad in the past during a race, but would always push through it. I can think of a time I never would have done this. Now it’s like a habit.

Stopping like this has always been the kiss of death for my race. NYC Half, back in August for example. It would be a constant struggle to get back on pace, or just give up and jog to the finish.

I’m now ashamed and pissed at myself for stopping during this race. I cough a bit and attempt to regain a better breathing pattern. I then pick it up. It feels so much slower, but I press on and concentrate on a feeling I can maintain rather than holding a fast pace.

Mile 11: 7:10
I realize the pace is close to the same as before I stopped despite the feeling of running slower. I determine this based on estimating I walked for about 10 seconds. I know I’m close to the finished, but the thought of two more miles feels like torture again. The last two miles of the Boston marathon didn’t feel this bad. I continue to get passed by many people and it’s throwing off my groove. I feel like kicking one guy who runs around me and then in right front of me. Ocean Parkway is huge and wide and I’m dead center with no one else around, so I don’t understand the reason for coming so close.

Mile 12: 7:02
One more mile to go. I remember at the start, the announcer saying the finish was by the parachute jump. I’m constantly looking for it. I finally see it and cannot gauge how far it is. I don’t have my garmin to give me an estimate of how far from the 12 mile marker I am.

We come to ramp of the boardwalk and I run up thinking I’m close. I decide to let it all out. I now pass a bunch of people, I make a right, but I can’t even see the damn mile marker for 13 when I make the turn.

I realize I just kicked way too soon. I run some more but I have nothing. I’m angry at the whole race. I’m angry at stopping at mile 10. I justify stopping again. I walk for a bit, unclear how much and just hoping the dizzy feeling goes away. A spectator screams at me “c’mon, you’re almost there”, as if I didn’t know. I cant even open my eyes to see her. Another runner, whom I passed prior, encourages me to go with him, and I do.

Mile 13 : 7:07
I keep going. I see three mats towards the finish. One mat is significantly in front of the start. I run past it hoping its the finish, and keep going to where the other two are. After passing both, I stop running and hit stop on my watch.

Mile 13.1 : 0:41 (~6:50)

My watch says 1:29:05. I missed it by 5 seconds.

I’m sure I spent more time than that walking.

But, I have a PR. But, who cares. It’s a shitty PR by 11 seconds, hardly significant. It”s not even a second per mile improvement.

Besides, what I wanted more was to be racing hard down Ocean Parkway, than necessarily getting a PR. I ran it like shit and I’ll be dwelling on it for a bit. I stopped. I can make plenty of excuses. I did that very well at mile 10. I won’t do it now because, in the end, it doesn’t change anything.

The saying “pain is temporary, but quitting is forever” comes to mind, and I swear to myself I’ll never stop so easily again.

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Posted by: herb | May 24, 2010

Running and Genetics

I found this sports illustrated article about running and genetics posted on Joe’s facebook page about a week ago. I’ve been meaning to repost it here for a while. Its a fascinating read and thoroughly covers many aspects of running, evolution, and our genetics as to possibly why some of us perform better than others. It’s 9 pages by the way.

In the meantime, I’ll be putting together my Brooklyn half marathon race report. I ran 1:29:05 and made many mistakes along the way.

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Posted by: herb | May 13, 2010

That little fucker had Lyme.

The tick I found Saturday on my leg tested positive for Lyme’s disease.

I’m being put on a 21 day cycle of some medication I cannot even pronounce, much less spell. Some nasty side effects come a long with it, including sensitivity to the sun.

In retrospect, I actually feel very fortunate. Had I not found the tick on my leg, the consequences could have potentially been much worse… obviously. So I actually count myself as lucky.

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Posted in health, mindless dribble | Tags: , ,

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