More post-marathon stuff and lessons learned

ORN: { } No run today because I am sick. Four months of good health during race season cannot go unpunished. My lungs feel like they are stuffed with rags.

After hanging around the post-race party until I was fit to walk unaided, Wifey and I went home. She drove me to my car, and I immediately affixed my 26.2 car magnet to my ride. Smugness was in full effect.

At home, I started the recovery process. I poured myself a hot bath with some epsom salts [who knows whether that stuff works or not] and sat in the steaming broth sipping beer. After 20 minutes or so, I had all the bath I could stand [having been sweating most of the day] and got out. I went to work on repairing my feet.

My feet had no blisters, but they hurt like heck. I got one of my puppy's tennis balls and went to town rolling it along the floor. I mashed hard with the sole of one foot and then switched to the other. I pushed the ball hard into my plantar fascia, as hard as I could manage, and cured my foot pain.

I slept the rest of the weekend. Sleep, plus beer, naproxin, sports creme, and the tennis ball treatment made my recovery a breeze. I felt fine -- but dog-ass tired -- by Sunday afternoon.

Lessons learned:

• My hydration plan was impeccable. I trained to drink X ounces of sport drink at Y intervals, and with the heat, I drank 2*X ounces at 0.5*Y intervals. I had the habit in place to scale up, and that kept me from becoming a heat casualty.
• I had to run my race. I had all sorts of voices in my head telling me I could/should speed up or slow down, but in the end, I had to do what I had to do to survive. I did not acclimatize to running in 80° weather, so I had to play the hand I was dealt.
• Fan and loved-one support matters. During the first 12 miles, when there were supporters all along the route, running was easy. After the half/full split, and the supporters evaporated, so did my spirit. Knowing my wife was at the finish line waiting kept me on my feet and having friends rooting for me lifted my spirits considerably.
• I should really edit my race reports before I publish them. I'm going to fix it today.
  
• At the back of the pack, marathon running is not a competitive sport. It's totally collaborative. We leaned on each other. One runner gave me some lubricant unasked for. Another let me borrow his cell phone.
• Whether or not I trained enough to run this race, my training certainly helped me recover. I wasn't nearly as sore as I feared I would be.
• Tennis balls are the key to recovery.
• And beer.
• There are a lot of people in my real-life circle of friends and online rooting for me, and for that, I am extremely grateful.

A question I keep getting asked is whether or not I will do another marathon. I signed up for Chicago before I ran this one, so the answer is yes. I paid my fee; I have to run. I'm registered as a charity runner; I have to run. I may not have chosen to run another one if I had this experience behind me, but I will do at least one more. If Chicago is an awesome experience, then I may be in trouble. If Chicago sucks as much as this one did, then I think the half marathon will be my race.

Race Report: Kentucky Derby Festival Marathon

ORN: 26.2 miles in 5:25'10" [bib #1744]. When the race started, the weather was nearly 70° and clear, and when I finished, it was over 80°. Considering the bulk of my training miles were in wintry weather, yes, you could say the weather played a factor in the world-class suck that was my first class marathon. Actually, that's not fair. I cannot just say that it sucked. It was more complicated than that.

Pre-race

After staying out a little too late at the pasta dinner and Balloon Glow, I slept hardly a wink Friday night. I was too excited. When my alarm went off at 4:30, I was ready to go. I quickly dressed and ate two pieces of toast and a Clif Bar. On the drive downtown, I drank 0.6 L of water. [I decided to drink this and be done with it until the race starts so I wouldn't be peeing all day long.] I parked in my office parking lot a few blocks from the finish line and grabbed the shuttle to the start.

On the bus, I got an idea of how freaking long it's going to take me to finish. Downtown receded behind me, and I began to feel the weight of task ahead. The guy sitting next to me, another first-time marathoner, tried to make chit-chat, but I was far away.

Once at the starting line, I did the dance of getting into the potty lines, sitting around trying to keep calm, and then getting back into the potty lines. I was fabulously hydrated heading into the race. Hydration was to be the least of my problems today.

Fidgety, I tried to stay off my feet and ignore how warm it was already. I tried to find my calm center, but it was elusive. For one thing I felt cold. I was shivery in my American Cancer Society singlet even though it was around 60°. The shivers came from nerves, I guess. After one last long stand in the bathroom line, we were off. It took 15 minutes for me to get to the starting line after the gun.

Notable events here: my last experience with a clean porta-potty, numerous Elvii, and several other people in costumes. Fun!

Miles 0-12

I'm not going to do the usual thing you see in a lot of race reports and divide everything up into nice, even sections. I'm going to describe the race as I experienced it. The first half was a breeze. I loved it. The crowds were huge and very supportive. There were a few bands and lots of booming speakers blasting music. Notable among these musical interludes were the jazz band in Old Louisville, around mile 10, and the Doors cover band near the split.

The best mile of the whole day was mile 9, the jog through Churchill Downs. Running underneath the twin spires while the thoroughbreds finish their morning workouts makes this is a great race in my book.

Anyway, I could go on and on about the great crowd support all through this section but in the interest of brevity I'll just say it was a large reason why this section of the race was a blur. It was just easy, fun, people-watching up to The Split.

Miles 12-18

At 4th and Breckenridge Streets, the race course splits. The half marathoners head toward the finish line, and the marathoners begin the second half of their day. [Aside: the "mini" is the BIG race. The crowd assumes everyone is running the mini and shouts things like "two more miles" at mile 11. And for the marathoners... well, you can imagine how annoying that gets.] After the split, the crowds for the marathon portion of the race evaporate. Apart from a few handfuls of people and the water table volunteers, this was a lonely section of the race. No bands, no cowbells, no banners. Just the road stretching on forever.

The abrupt lack of crowd support probably contributed to this section of the race being the turning point. With nothing to look at and nobody cheering and the heat starting to really bake us, the race began to really suck.

The highlight of this section is running through Cherokee Park. Whereas the race up to that point had been mainly flat once we were out of Iroquois Park, now the hills resumed. That sucked too, but at least it broke up the monotony. I noticed my feet started really hurting in the park. I mean, serious pain, especially in my left plantar fascia. And I had this strange series of spasmodic cramps along my inner thighs, but they didn't last long.

After leaving the park, I abandoned my plan of running two miles and then walking a minute. I also highly modified my hydration plan. Rather than metering my water carefully so I wasn't peeing every 20 feet, I just drank and drank and drank. The race was now a game of survival. I just had to do the best I could. I felt like I was dying. Figuratively, anyway.

Miles 18-21

This brief section was when despair started to set in. I don't know if I was hitting the wall at that point, but I felt I had nothing left in me. There was no question that I was still going to finish the race. But I gave up all pretense of doing it in any sort of elegant fashion. It was going to be slow, ugly, brutal, unpleasant, and almost impossibly hard. What marked the endpoint of this awful section was seeing my friends Helga & Chris and their kids.

Helga & Chris had already finished the half and were showered and fresh and walking their kids back to their car. I assumed they'd even been home already by this point. In any case, they all cheered and gave me high fives. That, by itself, lightened my load a bit. But then Helga ran with me for about a half mile until I turned to climb the Clark Memorial Bridge. As we ran together, first she called my Wife and told her I looked great. Then, she gave me all sorts of encouraging words that brought lifted my spirit to about 25% [from <1%]. style="font-weight: bold;">Miles 22-24

Helga's good vibes carried me about 300 feet, just beyond the base of the bridge. The long hill of the Clark Memorial was just starting when it became abundantly clear that I still had a long way to go. At this point, I was walking a quarter mile and then shuffling/jogging a quarter mile or so. I was going damned slow. My feet hurt bad. My traps were aflame from the mere effort of moving my arms back and forth for nearly five hours. Would this race never end?

Miles 24-26.2

Passing the 24 mile marker was no comfort. Every step was a painful struggle. I was talking to myself out loud at this point. "I gotta get over this bridge," I'd tell myself. Then it was, "I'm gonna get over this bridge." Then, "I'm going to run to Market Street." As I passed Market and looked west, I could see the finish line and the race party area. I saw the beer tent. Those bastards had better still have beer.

I was making deals with myself. OK, just run to Chestnut now. Stop and stretch. OK, now run to 4th. Have to walk. OK, finish strong and run down 7th to the finish. One last walk break. [These are mere blocks I'm talking about here, tenths of miles.] Finally, around 7th and Liberty [where I work] I picked up the pace and decided to run it on out.

I saw my wife between Jefferson and Market, right before the final turn, and that lifted my spirits tremendously. She handed me a key chain that had 26.2 on it. That was all I needed.

Smiling, hands in the air, my whole body in open revolt, I crossed the finish line. I began to weep.

Post-race

That's right, I began to weep right after I got my medal. I wept the whole way through the chute, which was, thankfully, about a block long. That gave me enough time to get the weeping out of my system and "man up" for pictures. I wept because I hurt. I wept because I was able to stop running. I wept because I achieved my goal. I wept because I was done.

Two things make me weep spontaneously now: Mr. Rogers and finishing marathons.

At the party tent, I turned in my medal to get engraved and found the beer tent. I threw down the best glass of Michelob Ultra [ick] ever and turned back to go find Wifey. I kept moving because my hamstrings wanted to cramp up. Finally, we ran into each other and kissed.

She made me a basket with all sorts of goodies in it. There were peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, Clif Bars, naproxin, a 26.2 car magnet, epsom salts, pain relieving sports creme, and beer. I tore into a sandwich. My recovery began.

Finished 872nd out of 1,076 overall, 595th out of 710 males, and 99th out of 114 males 35-39.

Tuesday: more post-race stuff and my marathon lessons learned.

We're done here

ORN: Three casual miles along the river in 28'34". Couldn't have asked for a lovelier day. A perfect end to a perfect training schedule. Nothing like sentence fragments to brighten a blog post.

Since January 5th, when my marathon training began, I have run 386.88 miles. As of today , I am done. I have run every hill, fartlek, interval, tempo, and easy workout I am ever going to run for this marathon. There's nothing to be done except to eat well, hydrate [especially since it's supposed to be >80°], lay out my clothes, sleep soundly, and set my alarm. Maybe two alarms.

I had a dream that I overslept and missed the race. *shudder*

It's an odd feeling, being done with training. With a day and a half to go before the starting gun, I feel like I ought to be doing something. Part of me feels like I didn't do enough, even though I ran 100% of every workout on my plan. I executed the plan perfectly, but I have time left... energy left... shouldn't I have something else to do?

No. Just rest.

I am taking the day off from work tomorrow to just putter around. I'm as prepared as I am ever going to be for this race. We'll see Saturday how well my plan worked.

Talk to you on the other side.

Mindhacking

ORN: Today, in lovely 60° weather, I ran four miles in 36'44". I felt strong today. Stuff is coming together.

Wifey sometimes says to me, exasperated, when we have a weighty matter on the table, "How can you not be thinking about _____?" My problem is that I can only hold one thing in my mind at a time, and even then, it's like grabbing a bar of soap in the bathtub. Her mind is usually abuzz with about 30 things that need thinking about, cross-referenced, indexed, and collated. Thank goodness for that, too, because one of us needs to be on the ball. I have a nearly supernatural ability to Not Think About Things. I can cast things out of my mind like nobody's business.

What were we talking about? See how I did that?

But the marathon keeps wanting to be thought about. It sneaks through the barriers like a puppy and demands attention. The marathon wants me to freak out. "Why aren't you crapping your pants with panic?" it says. "This is your first marathon, dumbass." And when this happens, I can almost feel my blood pressure rising a couple ticks as my anxiety rises to a simmer. That's when I start playing tricks on my mind. Just to piss off the marathon, I just assume it's a done deal, a run race, in the can, and I start thinking about what I'm going to do after the marathon. Some ideas:

• Speed work. I plan to make the two months between this marathon and my training for the Chicago marathon worthwhile; therefore, I plan to throw myself headlong into speed training. I want to make Chicago a devastating PR. I fantasize about it being my BQ moment.
  
• Barefoot running. I know. But I've been reading a lot about it, and it makes intuitive sense to me. Maybe I will ease into it by finding a good running sandal or thin-soled trainer like the Nike Free. Or moccasins. Something to keep the glass out of my feet.
  
• Running for time rather than distance. Sometime back, I ran only paying attention to minutes [even though I still tracked miles,] and it was kinda cool. I might go back to it. [George Sheehan recommended that in one of his books.] I figure I'll run 40 minutes during the week, and 60-90 minutes for my long run. Something like that.
• Run trails. Of all these ideas, I think this is one I will almost certainly do. I'll try to do this at least once a week over the summer.

See, by thinking about what's next, my mind avoids stressing over what's coming this Saturday. The key to making this mindhack work is being totally prepared for the big thing I am trying to avoid worrying about. Not thinking about the final exam and not being prepared for it is just harebrained. [I should know; that's how I did undergrad.] I'm in terrific shape for this marathon and, at this point, cannot do any more. I believe in my guts that I have done everything that can possibly be done apart from laying out my clothes and pinning my bib onto my shirt. And I'll do those things Friday night, and so they will be done soon enough too.

Convincing myself that I've done everything I needed to do and starting to think about what I will do next helps to keep the worries at bay.

Just three miles

ORN: This morning, I ran just three miles around my neighborhood [29'59"], and it felt great. Just three. As always, the first mile was the hardest, with the stiffness and aches from Saturday's 13 lingering on. Mile two was better, and rather than try and speed through it all, I just punched into a comfortable pace and cruised. The morning was cool and clear, the air fresh from an overnight rain. Spring was popping all around in the form of new blossoms and buds on all the trees and bright, green grass in every yard.

All I could think about on my run is the marathon Saturday. I'm not panicking yet, but my anxiety level is rising. Not bad anxiety. It's the kind of fear and nervousness that keeps you on your toes. It's that kind of hypersensitivity and awareness that heightens your senses so you can hear the zombies' shuffling before they are upon you.

Later in the morning, I had an appointment with my cardiologist, and everything is going well under the hood. It was just a check up, and all is well.

Last long run

ORN: Saturday, I ran 13.1 miles in 2:18'51". That's not a PR, but it was the most enjoyable 13 miles I have ever run. It was easy, steady, and pleasant. I did my new favorite route through Louisville, and when I was done, I was tired but not spent. The rest of my Saturday was pain-free and enjoyable. When I think of what a basket case I was after my last half marathon, I am amazed at how far I have come.

Incidentally, the race results of the Goose Creek 5K and point standings for the Kentucky State Parks Race Series are online now, and I am doing just fine. In the race series, I'm #1 in points for my age group. Miraculous. And then, in the race itself, I was 2nd of five in my age group, 35th out of 61 for all males, and 40th out of 103 overall. Not too shabby, I guess.

Why do I do this?

ORN: Not feeling very good today [tummy issues], I nevertheless ran because that's what I do. Adequately fueled and hydrated, I ran my planned four miles in 39'02".

The Spirit of the Marathon cosplayers at The Runners' Lounge are forcing me to write about blogging. I say forcing because I cannot think of anything to write about today, yet I would never choose to blog about blogging on my own. I think writing about writing is pretty dull to read, and blogging about blogging makes me feel downright dirty. Proceed with care. This post may be more boring than usual. So, why do I blog? A few reasons spring to mind.

• Blogging is yet another means of tracking my progress. I have a pen-and-paper log wherein I scribble facts and figures about my training, but that tool fails to capture the story of my running life. It just captures data. My blog is where I think out loud about running and play with ideas. Whereas with my paper logs, I can review past performances, with the blog I can look back and see how my attitudes have changed over time.
• Blogging allows me to interact with people who share my interests. It's a lot different trying to make friends when you are 38 and working, with a family, from when you are a teenager, in school and surrounded by people just like you. Very few of my friends run, so there are limits to how much I can bond with people in meatspace about this stuff. Blogging lets me ask and answer questions and learn from others. This yields very concrete training benefits, because what I learn usually translates into performance gains.
  
• Blogging serves as an outlet for my writing. I have a deep-down need to write and publish, and for better or worse, the internet makes that easy. If I don't run, I can't write about it, so in a round about way, blogging serves a motivation tool that keeps me running.
  
• Very occasionally, blogging nets me free stuff. But these blessed events are too infrequent to be true incentives.
  

Five workouts to go

ORN: Maybe I shouldn't have, but today I did a tempo run at a target 8'30"/mile pace. Needless to say, I am happy with the split times below. All together, with warm up and cool down, I ran five miles in 45'35". I wanted to have one "quality" workout before I totally veg out next week. With this workout behind me, I've got five more to go [27 miles worth] before the marathon.

Splits:

1. 10'04"
2. 8'36"
3. 8'34"
4. 8'30"
5. 9'48"

The workout itself was fun and a much-needed break from the day, even though I was hissed at by a goose.

Plans and more plans

ORN: My running attitude this week is dramatically improved this week, given that the hardest of the hard work of marathon training is behind me. I smiled through four miles today in 38'18" without a care in the world. I didn't even mind that it was drizzling and 54°. I floated past the barges on the Ohio, the nesting geese, the bums urban outdoorsmen, and the workers setting up crowd control fences for Thunder Over Louisville.

I felt so good after running 20 miles Saturday, I owe it to the world to write a book about it. [Working title: Awesomeness: The Viking Running Method for Becoming Awesome.] Cocky? Heck yeah I'm cocky. I ran through three zip codes and felt great afterward. Sure, I was stiff and a tad sore Saturday afternoon and evening, but the discomfort was easily managed with beer and pizza. By Sunday, I was right as rain. How did I do it? Let me break it down for you:

0. In the 14 weeks preceding my 20 miler, I ran 100% on-plan. I didn't miss a day or short-change a week. My foundation was rock solid.
   
1. Immediately after my run, I ate two Clif Bars and drank plenty of water. I'm not selling Clif Bars [yet -- I can be bought, Clif Bar people!], but I think the quick infusion of protein and carbohydrates helped tremendously.
2. Then, I elevated my legs for 5-10 minutes. My back on the floor, feet on the couch, I let the weariness, blood, lactate, or whatever drain out of my legs. Puppy kisses helped too. Having my six year old sit on my chest and tell me to fix her lunch -- not so much.
3. Next, I stretched. This was unpleasant because my legs -- particularly my calves -- felt like they wanted to go all Charley horsey. But I took my time and stretched every leg and hip muscle, nice and easy. This took 10+ minutes.
4. Finally, I stayed on my feet. Resisting the urge to sit or lay down for a nap, I puttered around a lot. I ironed clothes and did other chores. The standing and walking helped keep my feet from cramping and helped "massage" some of the soreness out of them. When I sat, I could feel the muscles bunch up. Tired as I was, I had to keep moving.
   

This might not be the most revolutionary post-20-miler recovery plan you'll ever see, but it works for me. I swear, I feel so good now, I want to hug the internet.

---

Speaking of hugs, I am now signed up as a charity runner in the 2009 Chicago Marathon for the American Cancer Society. Please dig deep if you feel so moved. The race isn't for another six months, so I am not yet going into full-on, obnoxious fund-raiser mode. But I wanted to warn you that it's coming. This campaign is for Grandpa M., Grandpa W., Mom, Becky, Anita, Jennifer, Libba, and Johnny.

A version of the truth

ORN: This morning, I woke before the sun and ran 20.2 miles in 3:38'12". It was surprisingly not horrible. Sure, my feet felt like they were getting hit by baseball bats in the second half, but it was an amazing morning. Running through town allowed me to see different parts of the city wake up. My course took me from the park through a ritzy-titzy part of town to a gallery/hipster part [Frankfort Avenue]. Then I ran through Irish Hill and ended up on a bike trail that runs parallel to and sandwiched between I-64 and Lexington Road. I knew this place was there, but I never knew how nice it was. There was a little canal on one side and cute little bridges to cross over. Then it was into Cherokee Park for my weekly ordeal of hills. It didn't suck. And now it's over, and I am headed into my first taper week. Thank the egg-laying bunny.

The reason why my training is going so well is that I am actually a cyborg assassin from the future sent here to run 10 minute miles. [I don't ask a lot of questions when I get assignments.] PEW PEW PEW!

Thanks to Vanilla for the link.

Stuff

ORN: Today, I sleepwalked through six miles in 59'11". My legs were crampy for about a mile, causing me to shuffle along sadly. Once the kinks got worked out, though, I brought it up to a moderate speed. Then, around halfway through, my willpower and energy just died. I kept running, but my kiai had left me. I was glad to stop. No more six milers.

The propellerheads at The Runners' Lounge pinged us to write on the subject of gadgetry this week, and I oblige.

When I started running, all I had to run with is a Polar A1 heart rate monitor. It was both my ideal gadget and a nuisance. On the plus side, it was simplicity itself -- one button, one function. All it did was record time and your heart rate. At the end of your workout, if you were lucky, it spat out your average heart rate and total elapsed time. I also had a basic Timex chronometer, but about half the time I'd get the buttons mixed up and inadvertently reset it in the middle of a run. We'll call these the Dark Times.

Then, I got a Nike+ Sports Kit to go with DJ Nano. It was cheap but comparatively feature-rich. I could track my pace and distance, see graphs, and crunch my data in a number of different interesting ways. Long-time readers will recall that I majorly geeked out once I got this $30 wonder working [the first two I got were defective.] One of my favorite features was the little voice that told you "Halfway point" so I knew when to turn around on my out-and-back runs -- or about 70% of my workouts. The Nike+ kit was everything I could want in my price range, but unfortunately, it didn't have a feature I started desiring for no good reason.

As a geek, I want the most data I can get. At this point in my running career [1-2 years ago] I wanted Complete Running Awareness, and so I went on the hunt for a gadget that would collect as much as possible. Naturally, the Garmin line of products were the gold standard, but due to a lack of gold jangling around in my pocket, they were out of reach for me. After researching my options, the Polar RS200 seemed to be the best choice. It would allow me to gather data on speed, distance, pace, and heart rate. It would also allow me to set training zones so that I could be sure to work out at my optimal intensity. The only downside was the foot pod, which required calibration every time I switched shoes. But that was a small price to pay for everything I was getting.

It didn't take long for me to discover something about myself that disturbed me. My heart is weird. Due to wiring irregularities in my ticker, the standard heart rate zones don't work for me. Most often my heart rate runs high, so I'm frequently working out in the 80-90% range for regular, routine runs, not working hard. Intervals or hills push me up over 100%. I asked my cardiologist about it [he runs too,] and his professional opinion is that everybody's different. So using my heart rate as a training metric has gone out the window. It's now in the realm of "too hard for me to figure out." I don't even wear the chest strap anymore. Of course this means that my RS200 is essentially an overpriced pedometer.

My current outlook on gadgetry is simple is better. I am in serious declutter mode. I've given up on my desire to own the one true gadget that would provide me Total Running Awareness and would be pleased as punch to know how far I've run and how long it took me. The ability to lap/split times is good too. Yes, friends, I am not lusting after a Garmin 405 anymore. [Though if one landed in my lap, I'd surely use it, even though I've heard they are buggy.] I've even stopped using LogMyRun as a training journal. I am content to use my RS200 as a glorified stopwatch that tells me when to head back. Then, I write down the results in my Moleskine day planner. With a pen.

It's a strange state of mind to be in. On the one hand, I am a huge geek and have all sorts of gadgetry lust for other kinds of consumer electronics. But on the other, I don't want the hassle of 3 or 4 different places where my data resides and 2 or 3 gadgets hanging on me as I run. Besides, I feel like Darth Vader or Batman when I run with too much gear.

Where I am now with gadgetry: Simplicity. And constantly, mercilessly refactor.

I like The Cramps but not the cramps

ORN: Today, I ran eight miles in 1:20'12". It was a toughie, if only because I had stomach cramps throughout the run. Not side stitches, but whole-tummy cramping. I kept hoping for explosive diarrhea and the sweet, sweet relief it would provide but no such luck. Not even a squeak. Stupid digestive system. Otherwise, I had a good day. It took it easy, taking walk breaks after every second mile. I'm burned out, people. I'm plum tuckered. But that's my last killer, mid-week run. Six tomorrow and then 20 this weekend.

One of the great joys of training for a marathon is talking to non-runners about what I am doing. I recently attended a luncheon at work and ate with some people I don't see too often. One of them asked me how fund raising was going, and I told her it was going great. And she asked for details on the race, and I explained that it was 26.2 miles. That's when I got the jaw drop. Priceless.

See, I mainly talk about running to two groups of people: a) you nerds, who are all runners, and thus, desensitized to anything short of Kenyan- or Dean Karnazes-level achievement, and b) my wife, who is unimpressed by almost everything I say and do. Rarely do I converse with someone who's totally blindsided, utterly gobsmacked, not just by my intention to run 26.2 miles in a few weeks, but my weekly accumulation of scores and scores of running miles.

How pathetic can I get? I know I can't run fast or far enough to impress runners. My cheap thrills come from impressing non-runners. Sad.

Welcome to Peak Week!

ORN: I tore myself away from following the latest news on Lindsay Lohan & Samantha Ronson's break-up to go run. It was a tough choice. This is, after all, our culture unfolding before our eyes. But in difficult, uncertain times such as these, it's our traditions and routines that see us through. Mourning the whole way, I ran six miles in 59'02". Suffering continued as I ran into a 15 MPH headwind for the first three miles. Time to break out the Cure albums and black eyeliner. Moving on.

BTW Peak Week does not mean I'll be climbing the Matterhorn for cross training. This is my peak mileage week -- 40 miles planned including a 20-miler on Saturday. This massive amount of running would be overwhelming if it were not for the 37.4 miles I did last week with the 18-mile long run. I mean, it's just a three mile increase. Still, it's a lot of miles, and I am not taking it lightly.

What has me most excited about Peak Week is that after Saturday's 20 I'm in Tapertown. The week of the 13th has a paltry 26 miles planned. I lecherously fantasize about being able to run just four miles and then stop for the day. Just a 13 mile long run? Glee! The week of the 20th will be even easier except for that 26.2 long run at the end. That'll be a pisser, but at least I'll get a medal and t-shirt for my troubles.

Race Report: Goose Creek 5K

The facts are these

Distance: 5 kilometers

Finishing time: 25'02" <-- Huge PR!!!!

Pre-race

Woke up two full hours before the race and gobbled down a small amount of oatmeal with honey and a little coffee. I didn't want a repeat of last week when I hit a major wall about halfway through my day. I had 18 miles to do today so energy management was going to be key. I swallowed down some Gu, my vitamins & meds, and some water, and took off. I ran five and a quarter miles from my house to the starting area, getting there wicked early. That gave me a chance to find a locker into which I could stow my gear, stretch, and take as many bathroom breaks as I needed. A couple onesies and a twosie later, I was ready to race. I was bib number 14. This was a small race.

Race day

I guess altogether there was around 200 people milling around the starting area. We waited for the bullhorn to start. My strategy was to take it easy, running comfortably hard, not all out. I kept reminding myself I still had 10 miles to run after this. Still, I was getting pretty pumped. This was my first race in a while. The bullhorn siren went off, and we were off.

In the first mile, my focus was on good foot turnover. I wanted to have a good, regular cadence. Again, nothing faster than comfortably hard, but I found myself passing people. That got me hooked. I became hooked on the opiate known as passing people. They called out my first mile split, and I nearly split my pants -- 8'16"! I was flying.

The second mile found me at war with myself. Should I keep stride and maintain this pace? Should I open it up and see how fast I can go? As I did this, I kept passing a few people. We went off-road and onto some gravel trails. I wanted to open wide, but I was also starting to tire, which worried me. My second mile split was 16'23". I was doing negative splits!

OK, fine, body. If you want to play that, let's play. I stopped worrying about it and just ran my race. The third mile was one of me picking someone ahead of me and trying to pass him or her. Finally, I got to the woman who'd later win the 30-35 division. I never took her. There was no Third Mile split caller, but my watch said 24'39". I was still doing negative splits.

I finished the race with a 25'02", destroying my previous PR. I also felt good. I was winded and tired, but I felt like I could recover. And I did.

Post race

We hung around the gymnasium and waited for the awards to get passed out. They did two-deep in the age groups, and when I turned my card in, I was the only dude in my division. I figured my chances of winning something were greater than usual so rather than running on home, I stuck around. I drank and gobbled fruit and waited. Eventually, they got around to it, and you could have knocked me over with a feather when they called out my name -- Runner Up, Mens 35-39! I got a medal!

After the awards were doled out, my mind quickly turned to getting home. Thankfully, I didn't take first place. That award -- a wooden plaque -- would have been a bitch to run with. But the medal slid snugly into my Nathan water belt. I geared up and took off. All I had in me was 10-minute miles heading out, and I tapered from there. By the eighth mile [actually mile 16 for the day], I was done. I hobbled home doing 11-12 minute miles. Still, I felt OK. I was hurting, sore, tired, and completely spent, but I still felt a million times better than I felt after last Saturday's run. I owe it to good eating and starting out slow. And staying slow.

Concluding Thoughts

All together, I ran 18 miles in 3:05'42", but that huge elephant was broken up into three bites. The 5.25 mile pre-race segment, I ran in 54'10". We already discussed the race, and so the 9.7 mile return trip took me 1:46'23". Please don't check my math. I'm very tired now. And ravenously hungry. And I've typed long enough.

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Thanks to Heather Daniel, whose race report style I'm borrowing.

An Ode to My Running Shoes

ORN: This morning, I eked out a 10K in 1:02'05". This week has been a slow one. I think I am getting burned out. Frankly, I haven't really cared about speed or performance. I've just been anxious to get the workouts over with. My course today took me across the bridge into Clarksville, past the Falls of the Ohio, and around the old Colgate Palmolive plant. As interesting as the scenery was, all I wanted was for the run to be over. My attitude has been crappy these last few days. So crappy in fact that I have resorted to writing awful poetry again.

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An Ode to My Running Shoes

Until we met, I never knew I could run and not feel my feet.
You eliminated all sensation that wasn't movement and breath.
Was I even wearing shoes?
I was wearing Nike Air Zoom Structure Triax 11+.
But nothing endures, least of all running kicks.
I used you 270 miles,
Started to feel the road again,
And sought your replacement.
Nike Air Zoom Structure Triax 12+.
But the twelves aren't one better than the elevens.
I miss what I had with eleven.
Twelve's on probation.

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I'm racing on Saturday, and I'm so focused on marathon preparation that the race is barely making a ripple in my pond. It is the Goose Creek 5K, the first leg of the 5th Annual Kentucky State Parks Race Series. The only mental preparation I've done is deciding how I am going to integrate it into my planned 18 miles that day. I think I have it figured out. First, I'll run there from home [x=5 miles]. Then, after that nice warm-up, I'll run the race [x+3.1 = 8.1 miles]. Finally, I'll take a meandering course back home, by way of St. Matthews and the malls [x+10 = 18 miles].

I'm not even going to try and race hard, not with a 10 miles to look forward to afterward. But I've wanted to do this race series for a couple years now. Besides, I miss the excitement of race day. I haven't run one since October. Plus, Wifey and Little One will be there walking it, so that'll be fun. After I finish, I'll double back to join them and help them cross the finish line. We'll hang out for a while, and then I'll take off. They'll go home, eat, and watch TV; I will run and run and run and run.

If you caught a whiff of melancholy in those last few sentences, I'm starting to feel a tad burned out by all this friggin' distance.

Thinking out loud

ORN: Today, I had one of those days where all I can say is "at least I ran." I was tired, my legs were heavy-feeling, and I had little energy. It might have been the Monty Python Holy Grail Ale last night, or it might just be fatigue. Either way, I am glad that's over. That's seven miles I'll never have to do again [1:09'44"].

Yesterday, I took a Mental Health Day; the family and I went to Mammoth Cave and did the Historic Tour. We had a good time, but naturally, my sick mind kept drifting back to running as I hiked 300 feet below the surface. What if there was a 5K race in the cave? Surely there are three continuous miles of reasonably safe trail somewhere down there. Oooh! Oooh! And turn out the lights! Everybody in headlamps. Or what about a Marathon? It'd never happen in a million years, if only for liability reasons, but it was fun to think about during the boring parts of the tour.