Three

My weight continues to drop, starting today at 172.8. If I, no, when I slide under the 170 mark and bounce between 165 and 170 as opposed to 170 and 175 the times are going to improve significantly with the same exertion. But it is harder to do than say after the carb-depleting trek of a typical 18-24 miles. Then I just want to eat a quarter-gallon of ice cream with a Hershey bar chaser. Sure, objectively it’s a self-deprecating experience but in the partaking it is a cool refreshing refill of calcium, fat and sugars to be stored for later. However, I am confident when I naturally dip into a lower better-running-weight range (even though I am already down 27 lbs. from a year ago), I will look back at these eating habits with a torqued facial expression saying, “You were a mess.”

Time = 2:27:29, Distance = 12.36 miles, Pace = 11:56

This morning has started out with this pattern – run one mile, walk a short distance, stop and stretch, then run the next mile. The first five were totally on pavement and the remainder on grass. And then it finally happened, at mile 10 the hamstring released like melted butter. Both legs felt magically happy again but it wasn’t 100% smooth-sailing as the left calf started to tighten during the last two miles. Without hesitation or fear, I just pushed harder, right into the pain, and the watch echoed/rewarded a sub-12 minute pace when going through mile eleven and twelve. That’s enough for now, more later.

Time = 2:27:29, Distance = 12.36 miles, Pace = 11:56

Same day. Run #2. The starting weight is a light 170.8. Starting in daylight (@ 8:34 a.m.) was a nice change of scenery, everything is so green. And the running was rather enjoyable, well, until while my gaze was taking in the sunlit scenery the upper left sleeve of The Jacket (my current favorite running accessory) was ripped by a protruding wire when running along a fence line. Arghhhh! At least my skin didn’t make contact. And the hole might be able to be patched, right?

Time = 1:48:24, Distance = 8.20 miles, Pace = 13:14

It is 6:33 p.m. and the legs, even more awkward the mind is ready for more. Determined to test this drive to its limit, I take to the beach in Sandbridge, VA. “Run all the distance on the sand until you have nothing left.” The temperature is a warm 75F but the winds are relentless at 17 mph. Knowing it will be difficult to gage the distance relative to effort, and conserve for more, I set the RunKeeper notifications to .5 miles. The coastline is anything but level right now, sloping right into the shore break. So I am engaged in a weaving pattern up and down the mini-ramps…until the first mile passes. Then I test this drive even more by cresting a few dunes. Three and a half miles later, I still haven’t felt the need to stretch and the sand is so forgiving on the joints my body just continues to plod forward, surprisingly with minimal effort. And then a soft sunset casts a distinctly pink hue onto a vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean as far as the eyes can see. It is so relaxing, a true metaphor of the steps in this third and final run of the day.

Time = 1:15:09, Distance = 5.96 miles, Pace = 12:37

Walk-Stretch-Run

It is surprisingly awesome that my body has metamorphosed into a machine that can just keep running day after day, after day. Less than 24 hours have passed since the marathon and I am powering up for an easy 10-12 miles. Don’t get me wrong, the hamstrings are still there but less tender. It is 43F with NW winds @ 18 mph creating a feel-like temperature of 36F. Hopefully this cold ambience will keep the swelling down. At the same time, another sick part of me wants to learn to run hurt and/or in pain. “What’s up with that?”

With the California goal race 89 days 5 hours and 38 minutes from this moment, I want to share my current weight; 173.6 pounds. Just typing out the word pounds makes this value seem that much heavier. And let’s be honest, relative to my 5’ 10.5” frame it is a very pudgy burdensome factor for a “runner.” And a disturbing one at that. Am I embarrassed sharing this data? No, not really, it is another form of accountability. Tomorrow I can wake up and reflect, “Remember when you said you were 173.6 about 90 days out? Don’t get bigger than that.”

While warming up with the dishes I am in the pulsating grip of the Palm Massager, attempting to electrically pummel my hamstrings to mush. And then the hard stuff comes out after the last of the soap suds disappear down the drain of the empty steel basin below. I am smothering my semitendinosus and biceps femoris with China Gel and an entire 3 ml sample-packet of Biofreeze. This topical combination is so strong my eyes are now watering and the burning taste of menthol is annoyingly camping out in my oral cavity. At least I am not thinking about the leg muscles.

Finally outside (@ 3:34 a.m.) a light rain is drizzling its way through the cold dense air. Walk – stretch the hamstrings – run is the repetitive sequence to keep moving forward. I am learning to run and walk in pain. “Wow, this is fun!” Ok, not so much. During each stop to stretch I am counting one thousand, two thousand, three thousand…up to 12 – the intended goal for today, and taking the time to visualize each step. Even though it was extremely slow while discovering a new relationship to pain, the walk-stretch-run strategy worked. Another day down en route to June and continuing this one year 100-miles/week streak.

Time = 1:53:53, Distance = 7.92 miles, Pace = 14:23/mile*

Time = 1:05:17, Distance = 4.25 miles, Pace = 15:22/mile*

*I don’t stop RunKeeper when I use the restroom, bend-over stretching, drink water, eat (which can be a somewhat lengthy event), etc. So please don’t give me slack about true-running pace, you can look at my race times for that. The pain forced breaking this run into two efforts and obviously recovery is not heading in the right direction…yet. To each his/her own on the journey, carry forth.

A Painful Rush

Just one week has passed and I am lining up for another race, the Shamrock Marathon in Virginia Beach. Being my first Boston Qualifier 13 years ago, and having run this race three times, I have comfortable expectations for a decent experience even though the pre-rest has been cut short and racing back-to-back weekends is not the usual routine. But the easy local logistics make adding this race to the calendar a no-brainer.

Anyway, the temperature is promising (48F) but the wind not so much (NW 22 mph). The fast early miles surprisingly felt like a typical long run, I even found a lost credit card and handed it off to a volunteer dressed in official attire with the request, “Return to owner.” Finding it was not as much as a surprise as knowing the several hundred runners ahead of me didn’t stop to pick it up. It’s solid red-colored face was very bold against the black pavement. Still feeling great while running through mile 8 I was anxiously anticipating a gel stop. I didn’t bring any in this race seeing they were going to be handed out. Then disappointment and fear of bonking was the prevalent thought for the next three miles, as I did go out from the start rather aggressively (for me right now) seeing if I could stay in stride with the 3:30 pacer (@ 8 minutes/mile).

Then suddenly, when crossing mile 11, my left hamstring blew up. It was a pain I have never known before, even finally getting a gel at mile 12 didn’t affect its stiff piercing presence. Passing the garage where my car was parked (at mile 13), I almost walked off the course and just quit this race. But I couldn’t do it. This was an opportunity to surmount a new type of obstacle, pain, and not just for a few minutes but 15 miles of nonstop pain. In every run and the only marathon I didn’t finish (the reason I have been writing this three book series over the course of one year) I have stopped immediately when debilitating pain surfaced. No not today, we move on.

A topical analgesic applied at the medic tent, three bathroom stops which were killers when having to sit down and even walking at each mile marker while hobbling in between up to mile 15 didn’t lessen the agony. So I tried a different strategy, I turned to adrenaline, inwardly reciting, “Pain is your friend. Run harder and faster until you feel a rush masking this annoyance. If you can finish this, you can do any race to its end.” So I ran hard, very hard in fact, even while sucking down a second gel. Between miles 19 and 23 there was a sandy grass border, so I even went off-road as much as possible and focused on each passing blade of grass, “Just keep moving forward, stay in the moment.”

Even though I was forced to a walk at mile 21, the adrenaline strategy worked rather effectively up to that point. Then I kept repeating, “Just one mile to go. Just one mile to go. Just one mile to go.” And continued running one at a time while in between walking through markers 22, 23 and 24. But then during the last two miles the muscle memory of 36 marathons took over and the finish line was the next and thankfully last stop.

3/20/16 Shamrock Marathon

Time = 3:54:11, Distance = 26.2 miles, Pace = 8:57/mile

100 Miles in 4 Days

 

100 Miles in 4 Days