The Accidental Run

16 miles was our long run assignment for this week.

Our past few long runs have been completed by running through neighboring towns, so we decided to change it up a little and give the Perkiomen Trail another shot. Not only did we decide the surface would be better for Ted's knee than blacktop and sidewalks, but quite frankly, the route we had been doing was growing old, and I could use a change.

We studied the trail online, and came to a conclusion. From the online trail map, the closest thing we could get to 16 miles (without going over) was 15.75. We decided that was close enough, and the plan was to drive to Oaks, park one car, then drive up to Crusher Road in Green Lane, and have it a Point A to Point B run.

We left the house around 5:30, and about an hour later, we were at Green Lane, stretching (and shivering), and ready to get started. The weather was cool and crisp, the sun had just started coming up, and the trail was beautiful with the changing leaves and the orangy hint of dawn.

We stopped about an hour and a half into the run and hit restrooms and filled up the water bottles. We also decided to check the map along the trail to determine how many miles we had run and how many we had to go.

That was when we realized that what you see online is not always the case.

The map along the trail informed us that the distance from Crusher Road to Oaks was not 15.75, but rather 16.75. But no choice we had, and we kept pushing forward.

And we did it! It's nice to think we almost did 17, and didn't mean to, and we were okay. We're really sneaking up on the 20 mile mark, and each week, I get more and more confident that we can do this--I mean really do this.

And it's wonderful and I'm enjoying every single painful moment of it.

In it for the long haul

There was a time when breaking the "longest ever" run record was a personal achievement, and one that was followed by a day of lounging around, doing nothing, because you had already accomplished all you could ever imagine for the day.

The more I get into marathon training (and we are now half-way through the training schedule), the more I realize the longer the runs get, the less of a big deal they are to me. Today Ted and I ran 15 miles. Up to this point, my longest ever run had been 13 miles, so I was expecting to feel the difference and have it be a bigger deal.

As I sit here, I realize when getting into distances like that, a mile or two increase or decrease isn't going to matter. In some way, I wish I felt I could make a bigger deal out of the two extra miles we ran today. On the other hand, there is a sense of relief to realize I have reached a point in my training where a mile or two is just a mile or two, and not the commitment it is when the training first begins.

As a side note, the halfway point of training has also meant my running partners are feeling the stress. Dave spent all week on crutches because of an undetermined injury...he is much better than he was this time last week, but an MRI on Tuesday will hopefully determine the culprit, something with the X-Rays could not do. And Ted is on the couch, getting ready for an afternoon of football, with the Eagles decked out in their vintage blue and gold uniforms, with ice underneath his knee. The pain for him, he says, is behind his knee, and I'm not quite sure if he should treat it as a knee injury, or as an IT band issue...thoughts?

But we're tough, we'll manage, and all things considered, we feel good. There has never been talk of not running, and we've learned that motivation to finish can include two Advils and a bag of ice as well as it can include a cup of coffee and waffles, and all is well.

What Grinds My Gears

Did you know that Vermont is A LOT COLDER than Eastern PA this time of year? Sunday morning we woke up to find temperatures flirting with 40 degrees...not like 43 flirting with 40. Like 37 flirting with 40. This is alot different than our "Brr-it's 55 outside" mentality.

But we got up and left the hotel for our fun little "5K in Vermont" adventure. The race was to be a smaller race, on a self-described "fast-and-flat" course, and I realized that Vermont's standards to "fast-and-flat" are probably different than my standards. It was a flat course...there were some tiny bumps that you could feel, but nothing like "Woah". Ted finished the race in 25 minutes--I was 28 minutes--a PR for both of us. Dave got first in his age group--the kid who got second in his age group was 2 seconds behind him, so it must have been an interesting race to the finish.

I have run alot of 5Ks, an 8K, a few 10-milers, and a half marathon. Only a few of the 5Ks have I actually stuck around to watch the awards ceremony, and even fewer of them have I actually had the opportunity to participate in. But one observation I have learned is that those who receive "Overall Winner" prizes are typically exempt from age group category prizes...so if you are the overall male winner, you don't also get to collect a 1st place award in your age group.

This was not the case for this particular 5K. The overall male and female winners were some serious runners from New Hampshire--they knew each other, they were wearing matching uniforms, and I think they had a coach with them. And once they finished, they went on to run the course another two or three times before arriving back JUST IN TIME for the awards ceremony. They both set course records, and while I don't know his age, she was 24. So she fell in my age group (19-28) and received the 1st place award overall, as well as the 1st place award for the age group. There was the 2nd place winner, and the 3rd place.

And guess who came in 4th place (and with more than 4 people in my age group, how about that!). And guess whose gears are ground because in most races, she would have been able to walk up and proudly claim the 3rd place prize. Granted, the 3rd place prize was a Mountain Dew water bottle or something, but still--it's sheer principle. I think they got a certificate, too, and that certificate would have been proudly hung up where all could have seen it.

So Dave graciously suggested that he give me the tote bag he got for 1st (1st Place in the age groups received a tote bag, a fleece vest, and a T-shirt). He said that as a guy, he can't carry the tote bag, and that I would get more use out of it than he would. "And since you probably should have received a prize..." So I walked away with a sympathy prize from my gracious brother-in-law, but also with a fun experience of running a race in Vermont that doesn't happen every day.

And a personal best...that is worth celebrating, too!

Flexibility of Training Runs

One of the joys of having a high school senior live with you (and there are many joys) is you get to tag along to college visits. If you are lucky, the high school senior will pick colleges in interesting locations. Such as Vermont.

Dave has an interest in the University of Vermont. The school meets the criteria he has been using when looking at colleges, such as major choices (right now it’s between environmental engineering and nutrition, maybe Spanish), activity requirements (cross country and triathlons are almost as necessary as the majors), and the school must fulfill an interest to study abroad. I informed Dave there must be a million schools between here and Burlington (VT, not NJ) that meet such standards.

“Oh, yeah, and I like New England.”

So this weekend, the three of us are headed up north (about as straight up from where we currently are and still be this side of the border) to check out the University of Vermont. It really should be a fun weekend—the Ben & Jerry’s factory tour is on our to-do for Saturday, along with the college visit. And for $20 at Ben & Jerry’s, they’ll give you a T-shirt and a pint of ice cream.

And Sunday we are scheduled to do 10 miles. And we were going to run there (I’m talking past tense and we haven’t even left yet...enter flexibility). But last night, while Dave was plugging through chemistry, I was working on a wedding present (for the friends that got married in June…could be a Happy One Year present), and Ted was surfing the World Wide Web, he found a 5K race Sunday morning. And results from the year before show a smaller turn-out (about 150), and age groups where the winners ran in times reasonable for us to run in—it’s pushing it a bit, would be PRs, but not unrealistic for what we have been running shorter distances in.

One of the great things about running is running in races in other towns, states, even regions. So there was no question about it—our training schedule would have to be a little flexible (although I’m not sure flexibility means trading in your 10-miler for a 3-miler). I contacted the race organizer, found out that we can still register on race day (we’re just getting our butts there early so I get a T-shirt), and not only will we be able to run a race in Vermont, but we’ll be able to test out how a pre-run dinner of Ben & Jerry’s affects the run itself.

The Web is a wonderful thing.

Associating by dissociating

Sometimes my own personal experiences with running are inspiring enough and entertaining enough to warrant a blog post worth reading. Other times I have to go searching for such inspiration. And lately, well, the runs have been normal, and when my recent issue of Runner's World showed up in the mailbox, I immediately began to search for an article or comment I could relate to, and comment on.

The article of inspiration in this month's issue has to do with the argument of associating one's self, or dissociating one's self. There are few types of runners--those who pay close attention to their internal signs (i.e. muscle weakness, fatigue, breathing, heart rate). Then there are those who play closer attention to pace clocks, time, and distance.

Then there's me.

I can not focus on anything related to the run. I have tried both methods--the first makes me start to imagine a sore muscle or makes me realize that I'm feeling tired or having breathing issues. The second makes me aware of how far I've run, thus leading me to imagine I must be tired.

I must be a third group, who totally removes themselves from the run. My mind completely wanders--from work issues to weekend plans to daydreaming about a number of topics. I have become very good at completely blocking out parts of my run and realizing that I don't remember turning down a certain road or running by a certain park--I just did. The good thing with this method? I was able to lose myself in running, and run farther than I could if I thought about it. The bad thing with this method? I trained myself to become an extremely slow, comfortable runner--I wasn't aware of my pace, so more times than not, I jogging at a light pace and not pushing myself.

Running with Ted helps bring me back to reality. We'll talk on the run, he'll ask what our time is, and we'll talk about the course and what we think of it--especially if it is a newer, longer route. The good thing with this method? I have become faster. I have more endurance, I am increasing my mile per minute average, and I am learning I can do things as a runner I never realized I could. The bad thing about this method? Sometimes I miss my lost "me" time...there aren't very many moments in a normal day when I can imagine I'm a famous movie star or picture myself as a tour manager for a hot band (of course, the lead singer ALWAYS has the crush on me, and I'm destined to break his heart).

But having a 27-minute 5K run as average over freak accident? I think I'll trade in my daydreams for that.

The best way to learn something about someone...

...is to take them on a 12-mile run.

This is the first run all summer where Dave joined us. With a three-day break from cross-country due to the holiday weekend and a marathon registration with his name on it, it was good timing (and a much needed long run). We left at 6:00 Sunday morning.

Along the route (which took us through 6 towns, past three fire stations, two porta-potties, and one big state park), Dave learned more about Ted and I and our bodily functions than he has learned in the past four months he has been living with us. He quickly realized that all bets were off--farts were allowed, as were snot rockets and loogies. No worries about drinking out of the same bottle or complaining that someone dripped sweat. He learned not to comment that something was on my shirt--or I may just inform him it was a nose-blow went wrong.

And by the time we reached the porta-potties along mile 9, Dave was right with us as far as open conversation goes. We found out he and Ted had a shared fear of bloody nipples, and both admitted to removing their shirts during a run just to calm the fears--not necessarily because they are hot.

The run was great. I could have gone a little farther...and again, renewed my confidence in the marathon training and my ability to complete the race.

Although who knows where conversations may lead with another 14 miles tacked on...

Not quite sure how this happened...

I am not what most people would describe as fast. I'm not sure I would even classify as average. Typically when a race begins, I'm at the back, wondering why pace groups don't go beyond 10:00/min mile.

But something has happened. A change is occuring, one that amazes me and has me questioning my pace for upcoming runs.

I am getting fast.

The past three or four times Ted and I have run our 3 miles, we have been coming in under 9:00/min miles. One time we flirted with 8:30. I try to run slower; I try to keep it the runs slower, especially during the longer runs. But I always speed up, and we come in with a time flirting with my best times.

Tomorrow we have 12 miles. Our 10-mile last week rivaled our Broad Street time. I am very curious to see how I am going to do these longer distances compared with my half marathon time from last November.

As for why I am getting faster, it's really anyone's guess. I wish I could tell you the secret ingredient--I wish I could inform everyone exactly my trick to get fast. I can't. I don't know why I'm doing besides just running faster---but it's really pretty cool and I'm loving watching my average pace time drop on my coolrunning.com running log.

But you know--as soon as I enter 5K, I'll be back in the 10:00 min/mile range...