I blowed up real good

I knew this would happen somewhere along the line. I set out to run 22 miles today, I fried out at 18. I'm not overly disappointed because I know I made some big strategic errors - LIKE NOT TAKING WATER. Yes, today I was an idiot. I tore myself away the computer after having found an old friend online. I knew I needed to get a long run in today so I just forced myself out the door. Around mile four my mouth was getting a little dry and I realized this might not have been a good idea. It also probably wasn't a good idea to eat that cheeseburger Sunday, because going up the major training hill, I felt like doing some major training vomiting (I resisted the urge, again, no water to wash my mouth out afterward). Around mile 14 a man was taking his garbage out. For a moment I pondered asking him, "Can you spare a runner a drink?" But I didn't, figuring it was too late anyway. Around mile 16 I realized I was starting to do my Rocky Balboa 15th round stagger. At 18 I just ground to a halt. The body just said no more. I walked for about two minutes and gave it another try. Five minutes of running and I ground to a halt again. It was that way the rest of the way home, run (very, very slowly), walk, feel like crap, run again. Ah, and I had gone out hoping to think through some great running is like life metaphors. Perhaps if I had remembered my old Boy Scout mantra, Be Prepared, I could have a better blog today.

counting down

"How's training going?" That seems to be the question every one is asking me these days. I think that's because the time's getting nearer (April 30). I feel good (despite my whinning here in the blog and my occassional limp around the office and home). I'm making it up the hills a little easier (I'm visualizing a gazelle ... or doing my, "i'm a kenyan" chant), so Hurricane doesn't seem as intimidating. What's worrying me now are those pesky ups and downs through the Carmel Highlands and "D-Minor Hill at D-Major time." I'm thinking of placing members of my family at strategic points (Go, Dad, Go)to help me up. I look at my training from last year and realize I'm much better prepared. ... but I'm just an injury or an illness away from losing that (anxiety level, 2.5 out of 10).

So, how's your training going?

Walter Brennan and the Zen of the Real McCoys

You know, that advil and two-buck chuck cure didn't work. In my training for the Big Sur Marathon, I had gone a bit overboard in my speed work and was feeling it in my achilles last Thursday. I thought I'd be OK Friday. Well, I wasn't. I went out for a run Friday and got about 10 yards before realizing I'd better pack it in before I hurt myself some more. Yep, I was looking a lot like Walter Brennan in the Real McCoys (for you younger folks, that means I was really limping). Instead of running, I spent some time on the elipitcal, getting my heart rate up without further straining my achilles. By Monday, I was feeling a lot better and went on a 12-miler (around mile 11 I was feeling a lot of pain in the achilles again). On Tuesday I did the elipitical again and then on wednesday was able to do another 12 miler (this time no pain). ... That's a long way to get to what I've been thinking about lately. On Sunday I talked with a friend who's a college football player. He's going through spring practice and I was concerned about his knees, since he's had surgery on both of them in this past year. He said the one is giving him some problems, swelling up after practice. As a result, he has to ice it right after practice and take plenty of anti-inflammatories. He chooses to manage the pain. Why does he go through this? He enjoys being on the team, he has a partial scholarship and I think when he does call it quits he wants to do it on his own terms. ... The times I don't enjoy running are the times I'm doing my Walter Brennan impersonation. Why do I go through this? If you're a runner, you know why (the zen of long distance running). And I guess when it's time to call it quits I, like my friend, want to do it on my own terms. So for now, I'll manage the work load, trying to challenge myself just enough, but not overdo it.

I am Brad Pitt

You remember the movie "Troy." Brad Pitt, all buffed and strutting around, pouting, yet indestructable. And then in the final scenes he gets an arrow through the ol' achilles tendon and he's toast. Well, imagine a middle aged, balding, slightly overweight Brad Pitt. That would be me and I'm trying to pull this bloody arrow out of my achilles. Fueled by caffeine and NCAA tournament adreneline, I hit the tread mill hard today for some speed work. Boy I was speedy, feeling all indestructable and buff and Brad Pittish. Tonight, I'm showing about as much mobility as a Greek statue. I get up from my chair and it feels as if someone shot me in the achilles. It's not the first time, it happens when I get too enthusiastic about my workouts. My miracle cure is a couple of advil and a mug of "two-buck chuck." I'm sure it will all be fine in the morning.

Running on the run

Reading today's Running Life column in the Herald (www.montereyherald.com) reminded me how much I enjoyed running on my "spring break." To tell you the truth, I probably would have left my running gear at home if the Big Sur International Marathon didn't loom over me. But the marathon does effect my life, so when my daughter and I headed off a few weeks ago to check out colleges, I threw an extra bag into the trunk (the one with my running gear). We were staying with old friends, and when I told them I wanted to get up early and go for a run before we did anything else they were a bit surprised ... but very supportive. In fact, my pal Wayne charted out a course for me and his wife Fran made me a strong cup of coffee first thing in the morning (very important when you're not a morning person). It turned out to be a lovely run, one made lovelier by my wrong turns. I explored a dead end street, running around an abandoned house. I explored the roads and parking lots through Westmont College (said Hi to a jogging coed, I think she sped up to get away), and I kept looking at my watch, knowing it was too early to turn back. So I sucked it up and ran up an enormous (in my eyes) hill that Wayne had described as being "not too bad." Now to Wayne, the college professor/cyclist, the hill really wasn't too bad. And, perhaps fittingly, our last discussion before I ran out the door was how tough it was to answer what God calls you to do. I wouldn't go so far as to say God called me to run that hill, but geez, once I got to the top, I was rewarded with beautiful views of Santa Barbara and the Pacific Ocean beyond. Now that's a nice metaphor. The next day I did the same route (without the wrong turns). The hill didn't seem nearly as tough, and it was nice to spend a longer time running along the summit and drinking in the views. You know, when I look back on this trip, I'll remember that being one of the bright spots, one I would have missed if I had left my running gear at home.

A refugee from the newspaper wars

I awoke this morning to the news the chain of newspapers I work for had been sold. No surprise there. The surprise was the buyers plan to sell the newspaper I work for the minute they get their hands on us. I spent the next hour attending my daily chores, only to be haunted with mental images of being a newspaper refugee. What if this was just the beginning of the end of the Fourth Estate? I had images of me dragging a cart filled with my family down a dirt road while the newspaper I worked for burned in the distance. Ugh.

Short of opening that bottle of whiskey that collects dust, I finally just gave up, put on my running shoes and headed out the door. Some 20 miles later, I was in a whole lot better frame of mind (although physically I wasn't feeling that hot). It's probably no news to you runners that running is very theraputic. You get the rush of endorphins that kind of numbs that nagging anxiety, and makes everything seem possible. You get that physical pain (I ran a whole lot of hills today) that keeps you from dwelling on the negatives of other aspects of your life. As your legs turn to rubber and you stagger forward (that would be me, Mile 18) you seem to find a strange sense of peace.

I think it was in the February issue of Runners World there was a piece on running and depression. Very nice story, but again, no news to me. Life seems easier to take when I'm running regularly and the challenge isn't getting out of bed in the morning, it's putting on the running shoes and getting out the door (even though I know I'll feel better after a few miles).

Clock is ticking

I found myself waiting in the car the other day with not much to do. Searching for something to read I came across my training log from last year (my first assault on the Big Sur International Marathon). It was a reality check, this marathon is coming up (April 30) quick. As I looked back on my training last year I have mixed emotions. I feel confident because I have done a lot more hill work this time around and my average runs have been three to four miles longer. I'm also a little concerned because last year I got sick twice during this final stretch, costing me training time. I'm continuing to make Airborne and vitamins a part of my daily ritual.
I've also done more cross-training (weight lifting and treadmill/elipitical stuff) this time around.
But I'm having trouble finding the time to get in the long runs (18 and longer) I need. Life keeps getting in the way.
And I'm about 10 pounds heavier than last year.What the heck happened there (late night eating binges, that's what).
If this marathon was flat or with just small hills I'd be feeling very, very confident right now. But Hurricane Point looms and the gauntlet of Carmel Highlands. I can get up Hurricane, but can I recover and last through those torturous ending hills?

The longest mile

"I miss the sound of my feet hitting the boards on the boardwalk, I miss startling people as I run past them ..."

That was what Jon, formerly of the Longest Mile blog, was telling me over dinner in Los Angeles recently. Jon is the reason I blog. A year and a half ago he wandered over from his part of the newsroom and told me, the sports editor, that he was going to run the Big Sur Marathon. I thought it was a crazy idea, because it was clear he had probably never made a committement to an exercise program. But I saw an opportunity and asked him if he wanted to write a column about it. He agreed and a few days later suggested that he blog about it. Well, he and Kenny, the assistant sports editor, did just that and it was very successful. I remember sitting at the starting line with them and hearing the buzz of people about them wondering if they'd finish or not. Some even came up and introduced themselves and offered them good luck wishes.

They both finished (although I beat them both) and it made for some compelling reading. But then things changed. Kenny, with a wife and young child, as well as a very demanding boss (that would be me), discovered he just couldn't keep up the running. And let's not kid ourselves, he would rather spend a couple of hours on the golf course then running the trails. Jon, although a gifted writer and reporter, decided his real future was in law and enrolled at UCLA Law School.I really thought he would continue his running (being a student, with access to many of the athletic facilities of a huge university, living near Venice Beach, what a better environment to train in?).

But Jon didn't run. There was a short run in September, but nothing more. In the absence of these two I took up the blog as I began training for my second marathon.

This past week, my daughter and I took some time and toured Southern California colleges. I made sure to set up a rendevouz with Jon just to check in. Once we got past the talk of newsrooms and law school, we talked of running, and Jon waxed poetic. I turned to my daughter and said, "He makes it sound so romantic," rolling my eyes. "Oh, but it is," he exclaimed. "I really miss it. ... And here's what you can tell people, I'm coming back, I'll be back, that's my vow."

I think he will be back, eventually. It's hard when life gets in the way - school, job, marriage, kids. Running becomes that thing at the end of your to do list that too many times falls off. You find yourself starring out the window of your car at a running trail and remember that feeling of the endorphins flowing through your veins, the sun on your face, the breeze cooling your sweat soaked T-shirt. Or you sit at dinner with a friend who keeps asking you, in different ways, why you ever stopped running and you struggle for an answer that makes sense.

Jon will be back, and maybe I'll nag him enough to get back to blogging. I think a lot of people miss it.

blogging on the run

I'm currently in San Diego, visiting colleges with my daughter. I've had some beautiful runs through the mountains above Santa Barbara and along the beach at Santa Monica. More importantly, I've hooked up with former Longest Mile blogger Jon Segal. He isn't running currently, but, after a Mile at a Time pep talk, vows a comeback. More on that later. I'm about to run off on a tour of UC-San Diego, where we will ask if the running trails through La Jolla are as good as the ones through Pebble Beach.