Almost There

Week 44 of The Streak (52 weeks of 100 miles/week) starts tomorrow.  I can clearly see the end to this journey (almost there is the apropos mantra), but it is already sizing up to be an anti-climatic experience. I originally had a plan to have a quaint celebration with family and friends at a local pub that serves a unique delectable dark beer aged in rum barrels. Sadly they have run out of stock AND they are changing the recipe; I fear the new concoction just won't be the same.

On a positive note, I am mentally pre-calculating the running distances to be a minimum of 30 on Sunday, 25 on Monday, and 30 on Tuesday to get the week started (and finished by Wednesday). So at least as far the next seven days go...I am almost there, too. See you on the 24th.

Speed Limit

While cruising mostly on grass and through a short asphalt section (at Manteo Middle School) I realized I can finally break the speed limit! And with that discovery came the thought that my weight loss has reached a plateau because I still perceive 100 miles as a long distance within one week. As a result I have been eating more with a fear mindset, the fear that I won't have enough calories to meet the year-long goal. Well, reading Meditations From the Breakdown Lane has significantly helped adjust that perspective. So I am now determined to run 100 miles between Sunday and Wednesday each of the last twelve weeks so I can use Thursday and Friday to hammer out other exercises to get under my fastest lifetime running weight. Week 41 was a successful 101.6 miles in 4 days with added swimming, biking, and the elliptical on Thursday and Friday. But what has been a more noticeable benefit is the mental rest; I have not been absorbed with "have to" and have been truly able to enjoy the "want to." See you in two weeks (another adjustment I have made...less blogging during the last quarter).

Continuity

I have been going to the local YMCA more as of late to avoid the heat and maintain the feel of a constant leg turnover. But this morning it is 2:51 a.m., two hours before the Y opens, and a long work day is on the horizon (starting after sunrise) so I am engaging a 12-mile outside jaunt primarily within the visual confines of a headlamp. It is immediately noticeable within the first five to eight miles that the treadmill efforts have trained my body to move forward with fairly consistent and patient strides. However, beyond the 8-mile mark while approaching the Washington Baum Bridge on the return to Manteo, NC I had to dig deeper.

So I began mentally perusing the first chapter of a new running book I just started reading in the last few days. It is titled Meditations From The Breakdown Lane: Running Across America (by James E. Shapiro). Ironically, the decision to purchase the book came after watching the documentary The 3000 Mile Men (a film by Ben J. Southern) which shares the journey of Chris Finill and Steve Pope. It is ironic because the documentary could be considered rather plain/raw relative to other running movies. So much so you may find yourself not wanting to finish watching it. But I held on to the end (through the dryness) because perhaps the movie grasps the realness of running. Running is an unsophisticated spartan activity. And that is what kept my attention. It is almost a challenge to see if you can hold yourself in that moment of not wanting more or less (from the film) than the simple act of moving forward. Yes, that's it. Anyway, in the film Chris Finill mentioned this book and how he read it one sitting, and that it was a key motivator to run across the U.S. Anyway, back to the mental perusing...

It was this quote (from page 10) within a powerful passage that fueled me to push harder, when Jim Shapiro describes going beyond the 34th mile of a forty-to-fifty mile run, "I like being forced up against the wall a little so that I have to fight." Honestly up to this point in my running I have always relished when the feeling is seemingly effortless and have had that as my primary goal; learn to run so you can run your desired distance/race with ease. But Shapiro's desire to wallow in a place demanding grit has opened my mind to a new place to go. And so I went, pushing my resistant body.

It was going exceptionally well until nearing the end of the bridge. With about 150 meters to go a very large truck (tractor trailer) hugged the white line demarcation between the running/bike lane and the four lane road. I could call him/her a pavement-greedy asshole with a chip on their shoulder as they could have easily moved into the other lane, there were no passing cars/trucks and it was two lanes in the same direction. But I won't call them that even though I immediately stopped and hugged my body as close as possible to the side of the bridge when seeing the truck aggressively approach. Fortunately, their wheels never crossed into the run/bike lane so I was able to move on unharmed, finish faster than my planned pace, and then point to the sky as an expression of gratitude as continuity was certain in week 39 of The Streak. See you next week.



 

Complete Rest

While being beat into submission by the heat this week I still managed to keep The Streak alive. The final tally was 100.8 miles despite running around and through frequent lightning and pop-up storms. Just yesterday, on the last outing to meet the needed distance, I was being pelted by progressively heavier raindrops when trying to run from the rainbow over this bridge (pictured above). Playing it safe (earlier in the week) I even signed up at the YMCA to log some distance on a treadmill. That's how it goes with this 100 miles/week goal for one year, there is no option to put off today's run regardless of the weather or "I'm tired." If one week runs short the whole quest is over, and an "Almost did it" attempt fades into "Oh well." Having just passed 4,000 miles (with only 3 more months to go) the drive to stay with it has even more momentum. But these happenstances and insights are taking a backseat to complete rest.

Yes, this has been the valued discovery over the last six days. It was while I was ravenously devouring a just-released-from-the-oven Biscuits N' Porn cheddar biscuit. Stop, wait, I have to share it was so fresh that you could watch the cheese spread and crystallize into a perfectly even distribution through a hefty and beautiful white flour matrix. Ok, back to the eating. I was clearly modeling a voracious raccoon who had just knocked over a garbage can and heard people nearby. Anyway, it was mid-third-bite that I paused for a moment, aggressively quieted my mind that was nervously trying to visualize the final six miles of this run, slowly raised my head, and allowed my eyes to glaze over. A mental coma then ensued that serenely blocked out the typical post-sunrise breakfast background humdrum of this frequented gem of a gas station-restaurant in the Outer Banks. Yes, there it was, the moment. I finally, without intention, released into the moment I am naming complete rest. It was truly its own nirvana. A state I had only been previously searching for and periodically appreciating in repetitive motion. But not now. Not in this moment. I was perfectly stationary in a laminated booth at a no-frills diner. After what I guess was the right amount of time to embrace this pause, this non-thought, non-reflection space, I returned to finishing the biscuit with a more patient demeanor. And the visuals of the next six miles didn't return...they just unfolded after I put one foot in front of the other again. See you next week.



 

 

Headlamp or Heat?

Running in the Outer Banks of North Carolina this is the prevailing question to be answered for the remainder of what-could-be-considered a lengthy summer season. Last week I was away again on another work assignment that required an attention and presence from 6 a.m. to 10 p.m. Sunday to Friday. So as you probably have determined, I spent those days running between 2:30 a.m. and 5:30 a.m. Which is 99% accurate as once again (like in the post Seven Days) there was an opportunity to add eight miles on Thursday evening. But even having gone out six days straight I still needed 22 on Saturday to reach the 100-mile mark in week 37. But a huge advantage (maybe not, you decide) was anticipating a wide open Saturday to do it.

My trained body woke up alarm-free at 2:30 a.m. It was ready and willing to get started; however, a wanting-to-sleep healthy mind sent it back to bed until two hours past sunrise. And then the run got started. The early miles (on the docks in a boating community named Pirates Cove) were an inviting treat with gorgeous views peering over marsh grass into the wide open Roanoke Sound, and the typical blended audibles of coastal insects provided stimulating background music that was for the most part a synchronous symphony. While watching local birds of various species scoot and perch in different locations to scan the water's surface for a snack, my legs below plodded forward rather happily. After about four miles we then found our way over the Washington Baum Bridge and continued to the Outer Banks Fishing Pier. Two Gatorades later I ran up to Jennette's Pier and then crossed onto the beach for approximately five miles to Nags Head Fishing Pier. By this point the heat of the sun was torching my mind and body but I still continued forward. "Run, walk, run, walk. Just keep moving forward until you have reached the distance," I kept telling myself. And in the meantime drew on flashbacks from several running movies. Perhaps the most significant being Gabriel Flores in the Badwater Ultra, "If I am dying, don't let me quit. In an hour I could be flying." And so I painfully moved forward. At Nags Head Fishing Pier I returned to the beach road and went about another quarter-mile before turning around to head back to Jennette's. Still following my typical method of running on as much soft surface as possible, I worked my way through intermittent grass strips dividing the road and paved path. But the heat was so unbearable I had to stop at Old Nags Head Cafe when seeing a sign that read Smoothies. While waiting at the bar inside for a strawberry smoothie that was to be blended in the kitchen, being the only patron sitting at the bar before noon on a Saturday morning, I didn't see a problem with laying my head down on it and trying to go into a state of complete rest. Albeit for only about five minutes, it was a decent recharge with just the typical background chatter of families eating breakfast. Then within seconds after the ice-cold smoothie arrived, I returned to the path heading to the planned finish destination, "Jennette's Pier, only four miles to go." The smoothie was outstanding as the cold sugars supported a few kicks here and there but at the same time the environment was relentless; I was stuck in a fiery furnace that finished preheating and had no set point beyond that.

When reaching the pier I retired to a shaded bench. And it was while in a completely relaxed and drained space protected from the direct sun that I finally then seriously contemplated the question, "When are you going to run the rest of this summer? Before dawn or after sunrise, or both?" Or more simply put, "With a headlamp or in the heat?"

Crawl. Walk. Run.

Time: 19:05. Distance: 1.00 miles. Average Pace: 19:05/mile. This was the RunKeeper notification after the first mile on Wednesday July 20th with a 3:57 a.m. start. The intent was to knock down at least 21, working patiently through the first 18 miles. But this speed was despairingly too patient and there was nothing I could do about it. My mind and body had synced to a new low, a place of reluctance that the running must begrudgingly continue. This text message to my ultra-friend summed up what I was feeling, "The Streak has its moments no doubt, but right now I feel like it just owns me and I will be glad when its over." Then again, as the day opened up and the thoughts randomly rambled the running did find its stride with a final overall pace for the 21.88 miles that day to be 11:54/mile. And (for me at least) running mostly on grass/sand that's not too patient. See you next week.

  

Seven Days

"It's long days. I can't see myself doing more than 10-12 miles/day. Which means I will have anywhere from 28-40 to finish on Saturday a.m. I will let you know where I am at Friday mid-morning so you can keep me going. It's worth it, right?" This was my text to Jane when leaving for a week-long work assignment with a 6 a.m. to 9 p.m. daily schedule (Saturday to the following Friday). Jane responded, "Yes!! Don't let The Streak die," followed by emoticons (surprised, running man, running man, shoe).

And this is the running that unfolded (day and start time:distance)...

Sunday 2:53 a.m.: 12.94 miles
Monday 2:54 a.m.: 12.8
Tuesday 3:12 a.m.: 4.38
Wednesday 2:47 a.m.: 15.39
Thursday 3:21 a.m.: 12.68
Thursday 7:16 p.m.: 5.18 (Thursday night provided a 2 hr. window of personal time)
Friday 2:49 a.m.: 9.6
Friday 5:02 a.m.: 1.04
Friday 5:20 a.m.: 5.2 (We had a little extra time Friday morning before starting work)
Saturday 5:22 a.m.: 5.64
Saturday 6:36 a.m.: 5.18
Saturday 7:53 a.m.: 6.16
Saturday 9:19 a.m.: 6.71
Total Distance: 102.9 miles

..."It's worth it right?" Sitting here on the other side thinking about how to run the 20-25 miles to start the 36th consecutive week tomorrow I can honestly tell you, "Yes, keep going." The (above) picture is of the Christopher Newport University bleachers that I purposely ran within the last mile on Friday morning, my last day on this week-long work assignment. I wanted to push my body even harder thinking, "If I fail within these seven days, at least I will have pushed my body to its limit." See you next week.