Nerd alert

Ever one to take something to the next level of nerdiness, I have added geocaching to the things I can do when I run. Geocaching, in case you didn't know , is a modern form of treasure hunting. But instead of a dusty treasure map and an eyepatch, you search for your booty with a GPS receiver and a pen. And an eyepatch if you want. Go to the Geocaching website to learn more.

How do I integrate running and Geocaching? It's a simple matter of figuring out where I want to run -- like near work or around my neighborhood. Then, I search for geocaches in that area on the Geocaching website. Once I find some, I connect two or three waypoints to create a route that's about the distance I want to go. Then, I run to the first cache. Simple. Once a week or so, this is a refreshing diversion that keeps my runs from getting boring and routine.

I am ashamed to tell you how much fun this is for me. But I swear it reaps benefits. In addition to getting the most out of my Garmin Forerunner 305, and adding spice to my runs, it actually helps me stay committed. Take this morning as an example. I needed to run before work so I could go out to lunch with my co-workers. There was a huge risk that I would hit the snooze button and blow off the run. So I decided to run to a cache near my house that I failed to find last night. So, after dreaming about the hunt all night, I didn't hit the snooze button like I so often do. I ran and found the cache.

See what I did there? I added something that generated excitement and instantly rewarded me for achieving a goal. I'm like a lab rat pushing the lever for more pellets.

And Geocaches are everywhere, especially in parks, so they are even a good way to add some spice to trail running. But even if you think Geocaching is too hard or too nerdy, finding some way to add excitement and a reward system into your running is a great way to keep you motivated. Like I said before, even if I don't want to run, I want to find that next cache. And how will I get there? I may as well run. And finding the cache is the payoff. Here's how it works.

do 
  me.buildExcitement()
  me.run()
  if (geocache.found = true) {
 me.getReward()
  }
loop while not me.isDead()

So this week was great.  I'm set to run 10 trail miles this weekend (and hunt down 3 or 4 caches.)  Life is good.

Meet Coach Fernando

Before I start the navel-gazing, I must share an excellent post called Lessons Learned from Training to Run 50 Miles by No Meat Athlete.  Go read it and try not to think, "Maybe I could do a 50K."

This morning, rocking my Vibrams, I ran out the door and did an easy 2.5 miles around my neighborhood.  Actually, that's misleading.  What happened was my alarm went off at 5:15, and I got up and reset it for 6.  My dog, Fernando, woke up and said in his phony Spanish accent, "Ay, Monito, I need to make tinkle-times."  Bitching the whole way, I let him out.  Since I was already ambulatory, and since I had so little time before I had to get up anyway, I threw on my gear and went out for a run.

The Vibrams are great.  Even on pavement, they are comfortable and perfect. 

Yesterday, I failed the snooze button test and had to run at lunch when it was 81°.  Surprisingly, the run went well.  In the past, running in that kind of heat sucked for me, but I have been trying to do some mind-hacking around such beliefs.  While it is a fact that hot weather makes me sweat more and drains more energy than cold weather, the belief that I cannot run well in hot weather is just that -- a belief.  I can choose to hold on to that belief, or I can abandon it for one that works better for me. 

In Steve Pavlina's podcast #13 of April 2006, he likened his beliefs to software running on a computer.  If you choose, you can load a particular belief system that works for the circumstances you find yourself in.  When you find it no longer works or is limiting, you can change it or load something more useful or empowering.  I've found this idea intensely compelling since I first heard it.  Now, I am actively applying it to my running.  As the summer has ramped up, I've been working on shutting down the false belief that I cannot run in the heat and replacing it with the opposite belief.  It hasn't been easy.  Usually it involves constant affirmation and self-coaching, but it's working and getting easier.  Yesterday, I ran, sweating profusely, and I ran more lightly and easily than I ever have in such heat.  Constant, gentle pressure is the key.

Think you can't run in a particular way or in a different climate or for a longer distance?  Think again.  Literally.

By the way, when I got back from today's run, Fernando was curled up on the bed next to my wife, sleeping comfortably.  I was a sweaty, stinky mess who needed to get ready to sit in a cubicle all day.  His day was going to involve naps, basking in the sun, and cuddling.  But at least I got my run in. 

Trailing

It's Monday, and I am feeling slightly hung over.  For once, it's not from booze.  [Never mind the APAs I had last night while watching Lost.  Those were recovery drinks, and therfore, don't count.]  No, I am hung over from an awesome trail run Sunday morning.  It was so great, I am going to ramble on about it for this whole post.  Lucky you.

I ran seven miles along the same course as the Cherokee Park Five Miler.  After the race, I saved it in my Garmin so I could run it again and again.  Not because I loved that particular series of trails so much, but because the trails in Cherokee Park are unmarked and as confusing to me as the Minotaur's labyrinth.  I get lost every time, or I end up back on the street after a quarter mile, or I go in circles.  Once, I think I ended up in Narnia.  Who am I kidding?  Even with my Forerunner telling me which way to go, I still strayed off course several times.

Despite a couple annoyances, like getting lost, which was my own fault, this was a rave run.  My chief complaint, if I wanted to complain about the best workout I've had in months, was the mud.  The course was downright soupy in places.  But the slippery stuff actually made the run even more fun.  As I slipped and tripped along, I found myself laughing at times.  Actual, honest-to-goodness LOLs.  I must have looked like a maniac.  Here I am, in a singlet and shorts, dripping with sweat and dew, muddy up to my knees, running in Vibrams [ridiculous all by themselves], and I am laughing like a mad scientist.  I was an inmate fleeing the asylum.

Speaking of Vibrams, my Sprints got the monster workout.  I had the full "barefoot" trail running experience.  I trod through streams, over rocks and gravel, through squishy mud, on unforgiving pavement, and across dewy grass -- all with nothing but a few millimeters of rubber between my feet and Mother Earth.  My feet and the shoes survived.  In fact, after the five miles of trails on the race course plus another mile of nearby trails, I ran the last mile on the pavement.  Afterward, my feet were fine.  The first few times I ran on pavement with the Vibrams, my heels and Achilles' tendons felt the abuse.  All that running made my feet tired but not to the point of hurting.  Hours later, some soreness crept in, but it was the soreness of a hard workout.  But the Vibrams were great to run in, and I cannot wait to run in them again.

How else can I express how wonderful this run was? I could burst into song or paint a picture. Instead, I will close this on an epiphany I had as I ran smiling through the hills.  Road running often feels like work to me.  It is working out.  As I run, I think about how far I have gone and how far I have left.  I pay attention to time and pace and form.  Effort is expended; data collected; discipline tested.  I never laugh running on the road nor even smile.  On trails, I cannot contain myself.  I am a child again.  Trail running is all play.  Running trails, I leap, I dance, I skip.  I am alive, free, and joyful. I am a trail runner.

Stuff I need to remember

This week was tiring but wonderful.  I have run at least three miles every day but Monday. Heading into the weekend, I have 17 miles logged.  I'm very happy with that.  I plan to do around a seven-mile trail run on Sunday to hit my goal of 24 miles for the week.  The weather may be gorgeous all weekend, so the wins keep on coming.  Funny, when I meet my running targets for the day or for the week, I feel better about nearly everything else in my life.  When I don't, all the things that suck seem 10 feet tall and invincible.  I get the bitchy, nagging voices in my head telling me I should have run today, I should have... I ought to go right now.

I feel better when I run.  I feel worse when I don't.  It's so simple; why I do I forget it so quickly?

I am in this state with my running where I am pleasantly but not yet dangerously obsessive.  I can think about other things if I try, but inevitably my mental pendulum swings back to thinking about running.  I can talk to people, but in the back of my head, I wish I was talking to them about running.  Another thing I  have noticed is that with the consistency I've been enjoying lately, my running-thinking hasn't been cluttered with oughts and shoulds and guilt. Instead I've been daydreaming about plans and imagining opportunities.  Where can I run in town that I haven't yet?  Where can I find good trails?  Where can the family go camping where there's also good running trails?

When I run consistently, my brain is freed from guilt-clutter, and I am creative again.

For you bookish types

The bear-wrasslers at The Runners' Lounge were kind enough to send me a review copy of their first book, The Ultimate Runner.  [Disclosure: I've podcasted with those guys, moderated one of their fora, and generally participated in that community.  They're cool, especially since they sent me a free book. Maybe next time they could send cash?  As a bookmark?]

The Ultimate Runner is primarily a compilation of brief essays from Lounge community members grouped into categories, like inspirational stories, charity running stories, etc.  At the end of the book, there's also a section of essays by experts in the field -- people with lots of acronyms behind their names -- on subjects like stretching, nutrition, recovery from injury, and other junk nobody cares about.  [Kidding.]  Most of the entries are a couple pages in length, perfect for bathroom reading or a pre-run pep talk.  As you might expect from "user-generated content," the quality varies from writer to writer.  There is such a variety of voices that it's safe to say anybody should find something worth reading here.

And that is the chief strength of the book.  If you are an Ironman or a weekend warrior struggling through your first 5Ks, if you are a chubby 39-year old father or a lean marathon mama, if you are a cancer survivor, or if you are mourning the loss of someone dear, chances are you will find a story that touches you.  The editors have done a superb job finding a variety of deeply personal stories that address the universal anxieties and joys of running shared by newbies and veterans alike.  Keep a box of Kleenex handy. 

I'm glad Amy and Tom are back to running the site after a long hiatus.  Check out their site and buy their book.

In other news, I have been running well lately.  I did 21 miles last week and am more-or-less on schedule for this week.  I need to run some trails, though.  Maybe I'll get to that this weekend.

Cherokee Park 5 Miler race report

I meant to post this over the weekend, but I went camping and chose hiking in rain and thunder over typing.

Saturday, I ran my first small race in a while.  Small in terms of distance, and small in terms of intimacy. This trail race series is put on by The Trail Store, a local outdoors store.  There were only about 100 participants.  There were no t-shirts, no medals, no cheering throngs -- just a starting line [two orange pylons], a well-marked course, and a aid station at the three mile mark.  Just get ready, get set, and go.

The course was difficult for me, though to an experienced trail runner, I'm sure it was cake.  I am not an experienced trail runner, so I was huffing and puffing toward the end.  But let's not get ahead of ourselves.  The race started in the rugby field at the bottom of the Scenic Loop.  Everyone lined up, Jim the race director said go, and we went.  In a couple hundred feet, we were shuffling down a slightly muddy single track.  Being a slowpoke, I started toward the back of the pack.  That turned out to be a mistake, because I found myself stuck behind these two super-slowpokes running a 13-minute/mile pace.  I was sandwiched between an iPod-wearing couple and a tribe of women that wanted to run faster and were fiercely breathing down my neck.  I hate this kind of pressure. After a mile of this stress, we found a clearing.  I took off and never saw any of them again.

Most of the course was tricky single track, up and down like a bride's nightie, interspersed with occasional clearings like the one I mentioned, allowing people to make their moves.  Sometimes we crossed the street to get to another wooded area, but most of the track was in dense wood.

The morning air was not yet intolerably hot and stuffy.  In fact, I found the weather pleasant unless I was in the direct sunlight.

At mile three, I was starting to wear down.  The constant hills and switchbacks were taking a toll, accustomed as I am to running on flat asphalt.  I drank heavily at the aid station and resumed.  The last two miles seemed to be toughest, terrain-wise.  The trail was extremely hilly and rough.  Though the trails in Cherokee Park are well maintained, there are still some rocky, rooty, nasty parts, and these seemed to be all packed together in the last miles of the race.  As tough as it was, as tired as I was, and as many walk breaks as I took at this stage, the last two miles were still my favorite of the whole race.  That's when I finally relaxed enough to really enjoy what I was doing.

Several times toward the end, I found myself surprised by the beauty of lovely little springs and ferny rock outcroppings.  I was losing myself in the trail, and it was great.  But as it was only a five miler, the end drew near too soon.  I ended the race, finishing almost dead last. The other 97% of the runners who had already finished cheered me on politely.

I think I finished at 59'40" or thereabouts.  There were door prizes instead of medals or t-shirts.  All in all, it was a fun, laid-back sort of race, and I cannot wait to run my next race in this series.  If nothing changes, that will be the Stilstone Half Marathon in November. But there are at least two other races in the series, I am curious about.

But my next race is the Indian/Celina 8 miler in Hoosier National Forest next month.

Vibram Sprints, day one

Yesterday, I ran my first workout in my new Vibram FiveFingers Sprints.  I ran three miles in them over flat, neighborhood streets.  Already, I can tell they are superior to my handmade huaraches.  [For one thing, I don't have nylon cords rubbing the skin off my feet.]  Though they feel weird to me still, they fit perfectly. They don't rub anything the wrong way, and are -- in short -- extremely comfortable.

The road I ran on was smoothly paved with occasional bits of gravel.  As it's the sort of surface I run on 90% of the time, I figured I'd try it out.  The thing I noticed right away was that I was tending toward a slight heel strike.  This feedback came almost instantly, since there was hardly anything between my foot and the road, so I responded immediately with a more balanced footfall.  Now running more toward the balls of my feet, I could feel my calves getting a stronger workout than usual.  My forefoot seemed to land first, followed by the side-foot rolling earthward, heel striking last.  Then, as my body moved forward, my calf extended, gathering power for a strong push-off from my toes.  This whole drama took place in fractions of a second, yet I could feel each movement distinctly. 

If the running surface was less than ideal for my first attempt at running in Vibrams, my body certainly wasn't prepared for a good run either.  I chose the worst possible time of day for me [late afternoon] after I had eaten a bad lunch and was tired from the day.  My legs felt heavy, and my mood was sour. [This had nothing to do with the shoes.]  Still, complaints aside, after the second mile, everything loosened up.  I finally started running well.  Everything was clicking.  I forgot I had Vibrams on, and for the next half mile or so, I just enjoyed the run.

Toward the end, I had a choice to make.  Do another loop for a 10K, or call it quits.  What made the decision for me were my ankles starting to feel sore.  I've noticed this when I ran in huaraches or totally barefoot.  A discomfort starts building deep inside the joint, primarily on the left ankle, radiating outward.  At three miles, I was ready to call it a day.  I know this discomfort is just my body growing accustomed to a new stress, but pain of any kind is discouraging.  Slowly adding miles will sort this problem out.  I just have to curb my impatience to run in Vibrams 100%. 

Run anyway

Today, all the voices were working against me. All the excuses were wailing at me. It's too cold. [It's 59°.] My feet are sore, and my back hurts. [That's almost always true.] I should take a rest day. [Then just run two.] Skip it and run trails later tonight. [Later never comes.] All these voices, I'm proud to say, were shouted down.  I ran anyway. Maybe that ought to be my new motto for the second half of 2010 -- Run Anyway.

This weekend was tough and exhausted me.  I ran and played with my daughter at her school picnic Friday.  We ran/walked through a scavenger hunt, had lunch, and ran/walked on a hike to see a remote control plane demonstration.  I don't think I logged many total miles, but it was a busy day.  Then, on Saturday, I ran a tough trail run with a group of Louisville hashers.  The shiggy was thick, and at times, I ran at a crouch through the underbrush like an honest-to-god harrier.  This was after a day of shopping at our city-wide yard sale.  Finally, on Sunday, I wanted an easy day, but the daughter still managed to run me ragged with adventures, expeditions, and shopping. 

I bought a pair of Vibram Five Fingers Sprints.  I haven't run in them yet -- I'll let you know when I do -- but I have walked quite a bit in them to break them in.  They are very comfortable.  For now, I recommend them.

This again?

What I am enjoying most about running lately is that it is endlessly hackable.  You can fiddle and futz and experiment, and it hardly costs anything.  [Unless you buy stuff, but that's not exactly what I am talking about here.]  Adding core work to your routine?  Go for it.  Want to mess with your stride?  Experiment for a week.  Want to run while juggling?  Who cares?  With running, there's no standard equipment except legs and no rules except put one foot in front of the other.  Everything is permitted; nothing is forbidden.  Hell, even shoes are optional. 

Ever since getting taken to task by commenters [including Barefoot Ted!] for questioning the sanity of barefoot running, I have been curious about the barefoot running phenomenon.  First, I bought Nike Free 5.0s with the intention of gradually moving toward barefootedness but probably not going all the way.  So far, I have loved these shoes more than any other's I've used.  I trained for and ran a marathon and a half-marathon in them.  After nearly 700 miles, the same pair is still going strong.  Yet, I wonder what's next.  Running shoes are designed to wear out.

Fired up by my recent reading of Born to Run, I've been experimenting seriously with barefoot running for about a month now.  About once a week, I have run 1-3 miles barefoot on various surfaces, with and without foot protection [sandals or whatever.]  Yesterday, I ran five whole miles in my home-made huaraches.  What are my impressions?  Running barefoot is the bomb, but it takes some getting used to.  I know.  Like you couldn't read that pearl of wisdom everywhere else the subject is raised.  But it's true. 

With nothing between your feet and the earth but [perhaps] a thin strip of rubber or leather, running barefoot extends the experience of running into whole other dimensions.  Beneath me, I feel each pebble, minute variations in slope, and every bone and tendon in my foot doing its job.  I become hyper-aware of what my body is doing and feeling.  Are my feet landing underneath my hips?  Are my strides too long?  Check my breathing.  Now, even after just three or four barefoot workouts, running with shoes feels like trying to feel a sculpture with boxing gloves on.  At first, my ankles and feet were sore afterward.  But after each run now, my feet feel stronger and less sore.

I'm a convert.  And I think my next running shoes are going to be Vibrams.  I'm not ready to go the full monty [entirely bare-ass barefoot] because the places I run are often littered with glass and other sharp, pointy things. But I think I am through paying my quarterly dues to Nike.  Over the next several months, I will slowly increase the numer of miles per week I run barefoot and see how it goes.

Making strides

Pigs, cheetahs, and beans. This post has it all, people.

I have settled some logistics for running the Flying Pig Marathon next year. I was in Florence, KY, visiting some dear friends, asked if I could crash with them in 365 days or so, and they said yes. That's my big logistical achievement. But at least I have the start of a plan. I cannot imagine a more fun way to spend a marathon weekend than by hanging out with Amy & Dan. I must be careful not to wind up hung over on race day, though. That could happen.

Today, I ran four miles and tinkered with my stride. I focused on my foot strike and turnover. Mostly, I think my form is good, but I wanted to see what it would be like to run a stride more like what McDougall describes in Born to Run, feet landing right underneath the hips, pushing off with the toes. I usually land on the outside of my foot, middle-front, but today I tried landing more on the front of my foot. I also consciously pushed off more with my toes. I imagined running as if I wore Cheetahs like Oskar Pistorius. I also imagined lightly brushing the ground with my feet, rather than lumbering down the road like a rhinoceros, my normal gait.  You know what? At times, with this new form, I was running two minutes per mile faster without much more perceived effort [PE.] In the past, if I ran a sub-8 mile pace, I was red-lining. Seven-forty was going all out, chest-heaving, legs-burning interval training. Today, with this stride, I was running a 7:30-7:40 mile without extra PE.

Make no mistake, I was burning more energy, and I couldn't sustain it for more than 500 meters or so.  But I think that was due to a) using strange muscles with the new running form and b) running in heat and humidity [74° and 54%]. It took concentration to keep everything in place for the new form.  That takes energy.  So I think if I could get acclimated to the heat, practice this form, and perhaps reinforce my quads with some strength training, I could shave off minutes from my pace with this.  I'm very excited by this discovery, and I will let you know how it goes.

Last thing before I let you get back to surfing porn, I am eating less meat these days. Yes, I am trying to eat more like a runner and less like the guy that KFC got the idea from for the Double Down.  I'm not interested in going totally vegetarian, but there are days when I don't eat anything that came from a plant. That's not good. Today, for lunch, I had beans and corn tortillas with lime juice and hot sauce. Later, I have an avocado, a peach, and some almonds. Fruit, nuts, beans, lots of vegetables, and whole grains will form the bulk of my food; meats and cheeses will be an occasional treat.  That's my goal, anyway.