I needed that.

NYRR Colon Cancer Challenge 15K Race Report

Today, I laced up for my first real test of the season. My first battle of mind and body brought me to the start line of the NYRR Colon Cancer Challenge 15K this morning. I was not quite sure what to expect of myself outside of matching the lofty 6:50 pace which I registered with and so quickly had forgotten. However, how quickly it came back when I picked up my bib having to confirm said time Friday afternoon at 9 East 89th. To tell you the truth, even that pace was an educated guess, as it had been approximately a year since I had lined up for any mid-distance race, and never a 15K. Hell, even ‘educated guess’ would be a reach! Running is not even a focus of mine this season, and I shattered my nearest shorter comparison 8K time by 57 seconds. Quite simply, today was not only the confirmation I needed to assure myself I am on the right track, but also the supreme motivation to kick some serious ass this year. I’ve got the competitive fire, and am documenting it all here for the tough times that surely lie ahead.

The week started with a pretty big scare on my Wednesday long run. This week found me back in Reston, VA on business, which after a couple of months break was something I was actually pretty excited about. Depending on who reads this however, it was for either the wrong or right reasons. We’ll leave the debate from the words that follow, but in all seriousness it was good for both the professional and personal. I’ll stick to the personal here, and that meant a nice two and a half hour long run on Reston’s beautiful Washington & Old Dominion Trail; a converted and paved rail line of yesteryear, away from traffic, and largely people for that matter. Not bad to have that near by for business travel (as well as a nice community pool)!

Anyway, what all this meant was a nice change of pace. We arrived Tuesday night, and after a quick stop to the local running store for a headlamp which I’ve been meaning to get for nearly a year since I’ve been coming here (no traffic, no people, no lights means near perfect solitude), and some decent carbohydrates across the street courtesy of some vegetable fajitas, I was ready to sleep. That happened a little later than I would’ve liked, but I was on the road by 5AM. So what is this huge digression in the middle of a race report? Well, I hurt myself pretty badly; however it was a completely new spot. I didn’t think it was so bad while running, but that soon changed when I finished, and a tendon in the front of my lower leg (not a shin splint, I know those) was extremely sore, even to the touch.

RICE, and making some schedule changes, the pain completely vanished, today being case and point. I chalk it up to tightness, and/or tweaking something while lifting the day before. Very strange, and originally very worrisome. These things happen, cest la vie.

John gave me the go ahead this week to pass on the long rides usually scheduled for Saturday and Sunday, and focus only on the 15K. This is one of the places where a coach is extremely helpful: reading between the lines from various emails, and knowing I was in need of some motivation, shifted gears and (very) short term focus for me. All the workouts sans the rides took place per normal, however when I came into the weekend I took an easy 40 min run, with approximately a mile pace effort, then brought it home. Rested, ate smartly, and turned in early.

This morning I got going at 7AM, coffee, followed by standard bowl of oatmeal, raisens, walnuts, bananas, mixed with some honey and yogurt at 8AM. Michelle, I, and Melissa (down for the weekend for some wedding shopping) headed out the door at 9AM, arriving at Central Park by 10AM on an overcast day with race temperature of a chilly 41F. I had approximately 25 minutes to warm up once we found the start, then changed to my singlet with arm warmers, which I’m glad I did despite feeling cold, and headed to the corrals. My goal pace started to sink in when I realized my corral was the first. Surrounded by the fast guys and gals the adrenaline surged. I was ready to rock!

11:15AM, and we were off. I had planned to start around a 7 minute mile pace for the first 4 miles or until I found and settled in my rhythm. That soon changed. Simply, I was feeling killer, and I quickly found myself pacing a couple individuals in front of me at approximately 6:45 pace, before finding an individual that I ran shotgun to at 6:20-6:30. I was extremely pleased with my breathing and heart rate, which were both very comfortably under control, neither labored at all even into mile 4, which was my mental go ahead to let loose.

Now, unfortunately I’m not going to be able to break this down to the level of detail I see some of the race reports out there, as it was a mainly a ‘heads-down’ exercise. Largely after I found my rhythm I stopped looking at my Garmin so often, focused on breathing, and split times as I counted down the miles.

I am also no expert when it comes to Central Park geography, the Brooklynite I am, so I had little idea of the course when it was announced to be the 5 mile loop, followed by the 4 mile loop. There were a few steady risers, but I wouldn’t call them hills exactly, more like rollers. I’ve been in Central Park a number of time riding, and work only one block west, but running gives a whole new perspective of roads.

So as the miles ticked, so did my legs, and surprisingly well. I was far surpassing my projected split times, comfortably surging at many times throughout the race for various reasons. And that was the status quo up until I came upon a group of four some 50 feet ahead of me around mile 7. I tried a few times to bridge the gap, but was comfortable with my pace, and did not need to blow up. It was a little tough, as the majority of my race was pretty thin, and after I lost my original pace friend when he surged and I couldn’t match, I ran the majority of my miles solo, gobbling up the field, but never getting passed by this point.

I came into contact with the four ahead of me once on one of the last hills in mile 8, passing one of the women, who returned the favor down the other side, and promptly kicked it a little bit, returning to a gap to approximately 50 feet. Coming into the last mile, as that group held their lead, I managed to pass another coming into the last half mile. However, one of the great things about competitive comradery, is that a few moments later he came up on my left, and said simply ‘Come on.’ And with that, we finished that last couple tenths sub at sub 6 pace, crossed the line, patted each others backs, and went our ways.

1:02:02

Isn’t it amusing, that despite an amazing PR, we always think we could have done better, could have gone faster and harder. I’ll take it though, it’s just more motivation.

I finished 14/191 AG, 51/~1250 Gender, 54/2097 Overall, with a 6:39 pace.

And those two women ahead of me? I don’t feel so bad being humbled; they were number 2 and 3 of the day.

A Runner?

When did that happen? Really? Yes, I suppose I now very willingly associate myself with a sport I once detested, and even swore off openly. It’s somewhat amusing as I sit writing this, relating and reminiscing on the trials and tribulations of the first steps towards becoming a runner. All of which are stemming from a series of conversations with a fellow co-worker and friend training for her first half marathon. In reality, this half marathon is her first real introduction to running. Albeit she is doing this for an excellent cause primarily, I never shy at the opportunity to encourage someone along coming into a sport with such negative social stigmas and false stereotypes (I myself guilty of that at one time). Not to say those don’t come with some very real physical pain that most any runner can relate to with little difficulty when they themselves ventured the same path, but any of us that now indentify themselves as a runner, know that the sport gets a bad wrap from many sides.

Historically, I never really liked running, but I always admired the discipline and athleticism of those that ran. Why I didn’t like running, I can’t really say. Perhaps it had much to do with the negative press it consistently and persistently received and receives. Maybe it was because I was a heavier kid, and the thought of running whether I wanted to or not, was always associated with discomfort. Maybe it was because I was told I had low arches (and do), and running was not a good sport for me. Maybe it was because I was (and am) a cyclist, and nothing would ever compare or come close to the caliber of enjoyment I experienced there. Not to mention the weird rivalry and elitism any athlete fully engulfed in one discipline seems to have for another. However, what I can tell you, is that all of this only did one thing, and that is preventing me from adopting and loving a sport as much as I do running until my mid to late twenties.

It certainly has been a journey. I can remember watching as a kid marathoners and triathlons from small to Ironman distance, and having such strong admiration. Thinking of them as super-humans, accomplishing such unfathomable feats. Never once however, did I think I could accomplish anything along those lines. Some scientific study this, some study that on that negative affects of running. So naturally, if running was so bad, these individuals must possess some mutant powers. Of course, doesn’t that make perfect sense?!

No.

I can remember really venturing first into running in my late teens. Using it mainly as an opportunity to try to keep some level of fitness in my off-season from cycling. Or even use it in conjunction with my training on the bike. There were even a few times thinking back as I write this that I came very close to breaking that barrier into the happy world of running; that epiphany that comes all the sudden when you realize, ‘Hey, this isn’t torture…actually damn, I really enjoy this!’

I trail ran then, staying inline with the mountain bike culture and scene I was in at the time, meaning obviously if roadies were tools, so must be road runners. (We were so much more in tune with the spiritual essence of the sport!) That changed over the years, perhaps after a got a road bike (and matured). Road running slowly worked it’s way into my routine, once getting to a monumental 11 miles with my Pop pedaling by my side, but I never struck any type of consistency. And that was the theme until about three years ago.

Maybe that’s what happens to all cyclists that move to the city from regions of striking contrast. Running just became an easier and equally enjoyable outlet for me. Truthfully, pedaling for an hour over a nightmarish Brooklyn Bridge (read absent-minded tourists), then up an overly crowded west-side highway to finally escape Manhattan via the George Washington bridge to find some scenic riding northward, only to be joined by every NYC tool roadie in their club kits, soon lost it’s appeal. Or worse being pedaling in three to six mile circles through the cities biggest parks (read hamster). Sure, I realize that may be harsh, and certainly they aren’t all tools, I just miss those long rides (or short even) where you would not grace upon another soul. Ahhh, Colorado, someday you and I will meet again and settle down for good.

And so, running slowly found it’s way into my life. As with many, it was also for me, a way to keep myself in shape as I slowly became disenchanted with cycling. Surely, not initially as something I’d ever choose over pedaling. But then it happened; it I can’t really put my finger on, but a few months in, this time I knew it was for life. And strangely, it was without question one of the most difficult few months I have ever had adapting to a sport.

Running, despite the common notion of being a low barrier of entry sport, I would argue is everything but. Rather it is a very accessible sport, potentially the most accessible. All you need is a pair of (good) running shoes (or do you?), and the open road right out your front door. Although, if it were just that easy, wouldn’t everyone be in love with running? As with anything it’s what’s lost in the details, and that is educating yourself, often through trial and error. For those of us out there that are not biomechanically blessed to perfection, you will hurt when you first tackle those few miles (or hundred). I suffered through debilitating shin splints after ramping up too quickly when I first started, aiming for a marathon right away because I thought my cycling fitness would be an easy and direct transition to running. How wrong I was, and it resulted in a very frustrating eight weeks removed, and missing my marathon.

However, that was all ‘par for the course’, as instead of deterring me, it encouraged me to find just what I was doing wrong. In my case, which is often the case for me, it was simply too much, too soon. During this time, I was fitted for orthotics thinking my ailments were perhaps also because of my low arches. Ailments that besides shin splints included a mystery tightness in my right calf after five to six miles. So, with orthotics in hand, two months of rest and education, a properly fitted pair of shoes with gait analysis, and most importantly realistic expectations, I was ready to hit the road again.

So, I began again, with minimal base mileage for three months, with twice-daily strength exercising of the problem areas, and general overall core strength routine, which I can’t recommend enough. Slowly my ailments dissipated, even with the mileage increasing, I was feeling better than ever. My body adapted, I dropped the orthotics entirely a year later without issue (musculature and efficient form/technique taking their place), and soon found the challenge of running more than just a challenge, but an enjoyment. The places my feet now carry me, offer such an amazing perspective of the world I am part of. Miles upon miles in the twilight around the city and boroughs of NYC, you’d be amazed at just everything you can see.

Thus, my parting thoughts on a lengthy reflection for all those getting started, or looking at training regimes of the age-grouper to pro, is to remember that nothing happens over night. Often those looking in focus only on the end result, and are amazed at the accomplishments before them. However, just remember these races are a snapshot of an accumulation of months, years, or a lifetime of training. There are those naturally gifted, and those that will find it more difficult, but what they both share without question is that each can accomplish anything they commit themselves too. The mind is a powerful thing; and of course a little bit of love goes a long way.

So will I ever write one of these reflections for swimming? Nah!

K.O.

Knock Out. Knocked Out. With certainty, I found myself on each side of the acronym found in the title of this post this past week or so, and like other themes in this blog, it may go without saying that this title carries a few different meanings of it’s own. It seems odd saying that a lot has happened since the last post, but thankfully some the lot being the lack of random blizzards every other week with multiple feet of snow, and the return of sunshine and sixty degree weather.

Starting from the ominous Friday of my last post, written as Brooklyn again got pummeled with a blast of winter dumping some 12 inches of the white stuff with drifts upwards of double that. Followed immediately the next day by an exciting trip to the country that lightened my wallet significantly, to yet another two-plus hours running in freezing drizzle, root canals, with a triumphant week end bed-ridden flu-ish finale while I slept the first near 60 degree sunshine away (and missed my first training day). Which brings me to today, and with the near completion this afternoon of travel plans for Kentucky locked and loaded, and sans some in between details, that about covers it.

First things first, let me introduce you to the newest member of the family. Due in three, actually two, short weeks. I’d like you to meet…

Argh. Yeah, this purchase was coupled with some serious guilt. But to back up a few weeks, or months rather, I knew coming into this season, and getting into triathlons, that I would be looking to purchase a new rig this year. Sadly, it was hard to believe looking back that it had been near five years since my last bike purchase (and serious cash departure); the S-Works that I built from the frame up and still serves as my primary road bike.

But if I may digress for a moment, there is probably enough behind that (bike lust lapses) for a whole separate post being as I rarely went more than a couple years between purchases. That, largely being also the host of reasons for the distance that grew between myself and cycling over the past half of decade. Well, the passion is back, along with a few others now, namely running. And do you know what all of that can again be attributed to? Having someone that believes in you, supports you, shares your passions, and encourages you every step of the way toward realizing your goals. Yeah, she’s rad.

Now, where was I? Ah yes, well coming into this season, I knew a tri-rig was on the horizon for me, and I also knew that fitting myself for a tri-bike was not something I even wanted to get into. The geometry and nuances of this bike position were something I had never once approached in 15 years of riding. (Of course that’s probably because I always thought tri-geeks were a bunch of tools.) I had a few options, and with weeks to months of research (surprise), ended up going with a pretty renowned fitter via a recommendation from Joe yet again, in Bethel, CT.

Based on that recommendation, I made an appointment with the owner of Bethel Cycle, Greg Pelican, approximately three weeks back. Greg a world-class duathlete himself, and a stand-up guy with an amazing shop that I can’t not recommend, took over two hours with me dialing me in with a preliminary fit on the Serotta Size Cycle. We discussed options, which ultimately came down to the Cervelo P3 or the Cannondale Slice. Both of which I somewhat came to my own conclusion before coming up should they be viable options after the fitting. Well the Slice was Greg’s weapon of choice (not that I’m in his league), and seeing as he has lunch with the lead engineer for Cannondale (also headquartered in Bethel) it was a no-brainer.

And the guilt? Well that is two-fold. Cost surely, but secondly was the realization that I had become one of those guys that can afford a bike beyond his (current) athleticism, especially if I go for the HED hoops, which is a very likely scenario. We’ll see. There is only one person I’m out to prove wrong, and that’s me. I can also be assured that that bike will be motivation in itself. It’ll beg to be ridden hard. It’s a damn sexy bike and I just hope I can do it proud.

So that, a nice visit in the country with Melissa and Jason, and two tortuously boring four hour trainer rides ended the last week of February.

Other highlights of last week included another (imagine that) cold and rainy long run on Wednesday. Michelle and I thought back over a year of training, and looking at my logs, it’s kind of scary how many long runs have been in the rain and/or inclement weather. And despite my blog entry about being optimistic, man does it start to wear on you. The run was good, but two and a quarter hours in the rain/freezing drizzle left me feeling especially fatigued, and probably kicked off a chain reaction. However, I knew I had a recovery week coming (which I’m in at present), so I trudged on, finished a root canal on Thursday with a night over in Jersey, which led to a few nights of staying up just a bit too late, loosing routine, and being surrounded by the onset of change-of-season colds in NYC.

So, ignoring a morning sniffle was all it took as I set out this past Saturday on my long weekend spins, on what also happened to be the first beautiful and warm (55 degree) day of the season that I wasn’t about to miss. Absolutely gorgeous, but I slowly unraveled through the hours. I remember wondering why I felt more tired then I should have, and probably as a result stupidly pushed myself a little harder to compensate. Well, that four-hour ride sent things disastrously in the wrong direction, and took the last bit of energy I could have had to fighting a cold, and threw it to the wind (so to speak). That afternoon, the cold came on hard, and what was meant to be a fun night with tickets to South Pacific, only culminated with me getting worse, and again staying out too late.

Well, Sunday hit near 60 I think, but I really couldn’t tell you how nice it was. I spent the entire day sleeping. Michelle woke me up twice to stuff my face (thankfully I never lost my appetite fully) and then immediately sent me back to bed. The rest worked wonders, and two days later I’m nearly recovered 100%, not to mention being fully recharged.

I know what some of you are probably thinking, and that is that I’m doing too much. Well, that’s one way to look at it. But it’s not the case. The approach was right, however I made some nutrition and sleep mistakes that week, in addition to factors outside of my control, that nudged me just enough in the wrong direction. Good news is that I’ve learned from my mistakes, and will be able to spot the warning signs earlier. Whether I heed them is a whole other story.

And here we are. That about brings us up to date more or less. Enjoying a rest week, and finally booked and locked in for Kentucky this afternoon. It becomes more and more real every day. How awesome is that?