Brooklyn Half Marathon – Guest Correspondent

So last Saturday was IT the day I had been training for for just over two months. All week I had been thinking about it… How would I do? What should my goal pace be? Was that nagging feeling in my left calf going to flare up and stop me from crossing the finish line? Well, short story is I made it, the long story is:

The week of March 15th, inspired by Terrence’s commitment to his training and his overall improved health and fitness, I signed up for my very first half marathon. Running the Brooklyn Half marathon would be special to me because when I started running it was a race I always thought I would like to try. Several years, and lots of hard-won experience later, I realized I was actually close to fit enough to finally attempt it!

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Scrambled Rocks.

North Face Endurance Challenge 13.1 Race Report

Insane. Insanely freaking fun. I really can’t remember the last time I had so much fun at a race. I mean, all races are fun, but I was actually giggling at times throughout the race. It was perfection on many levels both personally and organizationally. Gallivanting through the trees, running up tight singletrack rock inclines, and running down rock quarries at crazy declines, full of endless lose baby-size head rocks, roots galore, switchbacks, hopping downed trees, streams, mud, blood, and to top it off 20+ mph winds at temps in the low 40’s. I really can’t even begin to explain how technical this course was, nor will you ever get the full picture without taking it for a stroll to see absolutely none of this is an exaggeration. Here are a few stats scraped from the race website/literature as well:

Runners can expect technical terrain and rocky footing that cuts to the chase, with some trails heading steeply uphill rather than zig-zagging at a gentler grade. Descents end in wooded hollows before the next rapid climb ending with a breathtaking view. Make no mistake: this will be a tough test of off-road endurance.

Elevation: 4/5 Stars
Technical Terrain: 5/5 Stars
Overall Difficulty: 5/5 Stars
Scenery: 5/5 Stars

Total Elevation Gain: 2324 feet
Total Elevation Change: 4684 feet

Or, for the visual:

Yes it was hard, but what a blast, and I really couldn’t of hoped for anything better for my first true trail race. I can tell you one thing though: I’ll be back for more. With a culture synonymous to the mountain bikers that started me down this crazy path some 15+ years ago, it was nostalgic and a wicked charge, wrapped together in a big ‘Welcome Home’. This year is pretty locked down in terms of goals, but there is no doubt I’ll be back for more trail racing and endurance runs.

The weekend started off just a little crappy, and our planned excursion to Bear Mountain for riding/running first thing Saturday morning was scrapped due to some pretty threatening thunderstorms and showers. So we ended up kicking around here, taking a chance to dial in the new steed, an eventually leaving for the wedding upstate around 11:30AM. Didn’t take long to get up there, and in yet another serendipitous surprise the race start was a mere half mile from where we were staying in Bear Mountain. Not only that, but I got a chance to pick the brain of the 50K 50+ winner as we were walking to our car to go scout the course. Not sooner did I say to Michelle that ‘This guy looks like a runner’, i.e., shoes, etc., did I start picking his brain about the course. To sum it up, as just about every single other source has said: ‘It’s f-ing hard.’

We managed to pack it in last night around 10:30PM, and with little delay I was sound asleep. Strangely I wasn’t really at all nervous. Maybe it was because I didn’t know what to expect. I slept pretty well, and before we knew it, Michelle and I were huddled at the start shaking uncontrollably from the blustery weather. I had my compression shorts on, but refused to take off my tights. Too damn cold. After a few short words from the MAN Dean Karnazes, we were off at 8:05AM.

I pretty much booked it as much as I could to get to the front, as we spun it down some pavement before heading up into the hills. We didn’t have long to sort things out before passing became difficult. The first few miles were definitely a little tricky, but I soon found a good pace, and started gobbling up those in front of me one-by-one until I found the small group that I would largely remain with for the rest of the race. What stinks is that before I encountered this group, I was far ahead of them. Turns out the guy and I that were rotating pace, took a wrong turn and headed a good 2 minutes out of the way. Trouble is, you’re so focused on footing that it’s sometimes damn near impossible to sight the flags in the trees. Anyway, he even apologized (back to that culture thing). I think I responded only with a happy giggle. I was having too much fun.

About that point heading back to the trail though, I easily lost 10 places right away, 5+ which I got back for good, and some for the second time. I wasn’t all that worried. I did want a good showing, but this by no means was an A race for me, or really even a B. It’s all part of the big picture for August. Before going in, I had one goal, well two maybe: Don’t break my ankle and have a blast. Done and done.

My fitness was great, and my result I’m more than pleased with. I ended up rolling my ankle a good amount of times. A have a history to doing such, and once I did it once, my confidence was gone. I even took a nasty digger, and tore open my palm. I know for a fact, as with mountain biking, you can be the fittest guy out there, but if you don’t have the technical skills, forget it. Think Lance, think Travis Brown. Well that was me, i.e., fitness-wise I was toe to toe with every one out there. I looked forward to the climbs because I would blow by people, and there wasn’t one I didn’t at least do a rhythmic slow jog up while others walked. But dang, forget about the down!! People would blow by me, with cat-like footing. I’ll get there. I’ve had a taste, and definitely will be back for more.

After crossing the line, getting cleaned up by the medic, switching some clothes, and cranking the heat, we were on our way. What an awesome day, and an awesome weekend. Looking forward to our day off tomorrow.

Officially, out of 483 that started the day, I pulled in 34th. 32/352 gender, and 13/80 age group place. 9:12 pace/2:00 hours on the day. 9:12 (eek)!! Whole different ballgame out there in the woods. But remember, I got lost, and in reality per the GPS I ran close to 13.5 miles, at a 8:55 pace. So it’s probably somewhere in the middle. Pretty stoked with that, as had I not gotten lost I’m pretty confident I would’ve scored a top 10 age group.

Earning my stripes.

I came, I saw, and I…survived. As I sat in my cage Monday for the prescribed once a week recovery day, with a wholesome zen-like peaceful fatigue, repairing the damage by continuing to stuff whatever edible item within reach into my mouth (interrupted only by the previous night’s sleep), realizing not only did I survive, I was wanting more. With approximately 13 hours of the hardest consecutive days of training to date this year, you’d think my mind would be far from yearning for the same, but it kept flashing images of the roads of Connecticut. I’m sure this wouldn’t be the case if human beings had the capability to remember actual pain (physical), but there was no other place I would’ve rather been…

What an awesome weekend from all perspectives, including great weather, company, food, and ice cream. We headed up Friday evening, and after a fairly uneventful drive out of the city, packed it in shortly after unloading at the Labbe’s household around 10:30PM or so. My plan for Saturday was to do the entirety of the ride that I wussed out on a few weeks back, i.e., from Bethany to Quassy, ride the Rev3 course, and ride back. Somewhere in the range of 98 miles was the plan for the day. 98 miles in Connecticut hill country mind you.

Having my cue sheet still handy (but knowing a little over half of the route already), nutrition dialed in, and beautiful weather, I set off around 7:30AM the following morning. Arm warmers were all that was needed, and as the day climbed into the 80’s, even those found themselves rolled up and put away shortly after heading out. The ride from Bethany was still pretty fresh in my head, and for the most part dialed in with little need to reference any directions. Approximately 20 miles put me at the start of the Rev3 course, which today I had every intention of finishing.

I was still feeling pretty fresh when I started the course, although the heat was creeping up pretty quickly. It was just a little too early to be so hot, and without any acclimatization time it seems this year, it only felt hotter. I soon found my way onto new roads as I continued past my previous turn around point. I’d like to point out, that albeit this is reading very easily, this ride was a suffer-fest. I wish I could recollect exactly where the toughest of the hills were, and I probably could if I took the time, however I think the more appropriate thing to note here is that it’s all hills. I do remember route 254 heading north to be a particularly long climb, so I’ll make a physical and mental reminder for that one.

The turnaround point just south of Litchfield is where I got somewhat lost. Thus, I really didn’t get to complete the entire course as it turns out when I retraced my steps and mapped it this morning. However, I got more than an adequate taste, and have concluded that it will be a tough, tough day, which has set a little natural apprehension about what lies ahead. Although by the same token, I absolutely can’t wait and can’t continue to stress enough, even while suffering, I never regret it for a moment. I love riding up there with endless roads to explore off the beaten path, vineyards, farms galore, etc. Its rural America at it’s best. So while everything may hurt, at least I’ve had the scenery to soak up, no traffic, and rarely another cyclist.

I really love cycling again. Thank you Connecticut, and despite all your damn hills, I love you too.

The day wrapped, with me rolling into the driveway, as Jason put it, going so slow that I could’ve tipped over, at approximately 94 miles and over 6,300 feet of climbing. I lost the route somewhere, but got a good long day in hot, hot weather. Excellent practice, but I still had one more equally tough day to go.

After stuffing my face continually for the remainder of the day, topping it all off with some amazing homemade ice cream, we called it a night after a quick route check and cue sheet for the following day. That next morning, Sunday, shaped up to be an amazing but even warmer one. We started the day at Lake Waramaug for my first open water swim with the new wetsuit. Upon arriving at the lake around 7:45AM accompanied by two very gracious sisters to keep me company, we quickly found our original plans awash. Hordes of people, were packing into the state park area of the lake for a crew meet, which also happened to be the original place planned for me to swim from. Alls well that ends well, as shortly thereafter we agreed upon another location, and after suiting up, I began the first leg of my brick around quarter to 9AM.

The wetsuit is pretty amazing. I felt like I could swim all day in that thing; it certainly makes for less effort. However, the initial shock of the cold water wasn’t something I was expecting, and for a short time it altered/strained my breathing until I settled in and warmed up a bit. I continued fairly close to the shoreline at an aerobic clip for 35 minutes thoroughly enjoying myself. Upon exiting I suited up, this time in cycling attire, said my good-bye and thank you (!) and set-off on the planned route of the day for a total of 60 miles finishing back in Bethany.

I found some amazing hills that day. Big surprise right? Turns out the route directly back to Bethany to the south wasn’t quite the amount of mileage I needed for the day, so I first headed north. I apologize for keep coming back to this point, but there was no shortage of inclines. Even though as a whole the ride would be easier today, with only approximately 3,500 feet of climbing, it did not disappoint. Further good news came with the realization that even after yesterday my legs still felt O.K. O.K. enough that is for a steady, but not too crazy clip.

Sunday climbed well into the 80’s, and for anyone who rides a bike, knows quite well the heat radiating off the pavement certainly cranks it up even a few more notches. I was glad for a change of pace, as my last two long rides up in Connecticut had been on the Quassy course or en route. I started of around Waramaug, heading back towards the direction of the state park entrance where I caught of glimpse of the crew teams now in the water, toeing the line.

Almost immediately I headed up a pretty serious climb as I popped off northwest of the lake. What was interesting is that shortly thereafter as I turned on to the very appropriately named ‘Brick’ School road, I entered my first true dead area with no cell phone coverage. Pretty amazing. It happened sporadically throughout the day north of the lake, and if I could digress for a moment, it dawned on me that it had been years since that happened. It could only make me smile however when I soon realized how attached I had become to the maps to help pinpoint myself should I miss a turn. Ross and I never did that! If getting lost meant adding miles, or finding awesome new stretches of road, how could you really call that getting lost? Funny how technology can make you second-guess yourself. That same bit of technology did however, despite no cell coverage, allowed for this very cool picture. Guess you can put two and two together on why those Connecticut old-heads named it Brick School road. That’s 1798.

The conclusion of the ride, despite my best efforts to skip a road of serious inclines, only took me on one of even more serious inclines. I guess that’s what I get for trying to wuss out. But know this Blackberry road, you and I will do battle again. I ended the day on my way back up Miller road at a little over 60 miles, and this time it wasn’t at tip-over speeds. After parking, dismounting, and drinking copious amounts of water that was left for me on the front entry way (I stupidly underestimated water consumption today, and got an emergency txt in that requested such. Thanks guys!), I laced up, changed tops, and was off on a planned 5 mile route that Melissa had printed out for me.

The legs were fine, but wow the heat was wearing on me. It did reach high 80’s that day, and knowing this is the best type of practice for Kentucky, I took off down the driveway. What is really cool, is that I’m truly learning the science of adjusting and regulating pace in different scenarios. Sunday was definitely one of those scenarios, and after two tough days, a hilly run, and a very hot start around 12:45PM, I knew I would have to slow things down. That being said, the run actually turned out to be fine. I slowed it down to an 8-8:15 pace, and cruised comfortably (as comfortably as I could) through a little over 5 miles.

And that was a wrap.

Lastly, I’d like to take just a moment to say thanks for all help everyone. I don’t say it enough. I couldn’t do this for a second without you. I mean that. It can be a selfish pursuit when it comes right down to it, so I appreciate all the support, and all the forms it takes…just like the title and parting photo, courtesy of Labbe & Labbe.

Finally.

So today this morning something happened that I had been waiting for for some time. It was easy. I’ve been saying to Michelle for a few months of Wednesday long runs upon returning to the apartment, that albeit I had finished fine, it was just a little too hard, or something was just a little ‘off’. If those mornings had been recorded, a common saying to the word, that came out of my mouth was: ‘Those need to get easier.’ Well this morning it was…remarkably easy. It was a combination I’m confident of appropriate nutrition (thanks lom) and a thorough job at keeping locked in (despite here and there) at long run pace of 7:30-8 minute miles. Today also happened to be the first run to the office. It just seemed to make sense, and I can’t believe I hadn’t done it sooner. It was a lovely change of pace and scenery, with a strong finish in Central Park (despite getting a little turned around). Ended up with 2 hours 40 for the day, clocking 20.5 miles so comfortably at an average pace spot-on in the low 7:50’s and a 133 bpm average heart rate. Great numbers for me. Major confidence booster that was definitely needed, especially after the monster training weekend that just passed. That update is coming tonight – just wanted to get this short one down in the books. Stay tuned.

Fuzzbusted: Part II of II

Another week has slipped by…dang!! Hopefully the lapse between posts won’t incite riots amongst the hordes of followers! But seriously, thanks for keeping me in check. What I do hope is that the wait hasn’t built up any unrealistic expectations of grandiose or even super-human training days. Nope, just some rock solid awesomeness, and as I recall: an awesome ride in the hills of Connecticut (only hills it would seem) surveying the Rev3 course, two welcome bricks, and a gaggle of the fuzz.

Last week, despite my best efforts for this continuation, was incredibly busy. A slow/recovery week it was, but Michelle and I had my Mom and aunts in for the majority of it for a lovely visit. I am however not sure if I got my 10 hours of sleep; not that I couldn’t have, just don’t think my body will allow my to sleep at all past 7 anymore. 7 is the new 10.

Anyway anyway, let’s get to it. Going two weeks back now to 4/10, for what was the start of my first back-to-back long weeks. Something I was a little nervous, but equally excited to get under way. These type of training weekends were to set the stage for months to come, and was anxious to see how far I’ve come. That Saturday took us up to the country retreat courtesy of Melissa and Jay (can’t thank you enough) in Bethany, CT for some serious riding. Truthfully, I hadn’t a clue just how serious the riding would be. I had every intent to do some recon on the Rev3 Quassy bike course, leaving directly that morning from the Labbe homestead, heading north. I mapped it the previous night, for a grand total of a very realistic 95 miles, shooting for a 6 hour spin knowing ‘some hills’ were in store. HA! That was a grand understatement…

Connecticut owns me.

The riding was amazing, just absolutely beautiful. What a treat it is to go for a ride for 4-5 hours and not see another soul (cycling) along the way. It’s a wonderful reminder that the only reason I’ve become disenchanted with cycling these past few years is because of geographical locale. (Luckily, we’ll remedy that sometime soon.)

Connecticut is such a beautiful place. That same night before the ride, I made a cue sheet so I wouldn’t get too lost along the way. Although, I seem to remember some of the best rides I’ve ever had involved getting lost. Then again that probably had something to do with the company as well. This day however, cue sheet in hand, I set out on a fairly brisk morning in the low 50’s, around 9AM. How quickly reality came crashing in as not two miles into the ride I was heading up the first series of climbs of the day (still excited at this point). Didn’t feel so brisk out anymore after that climb, which immediately set the tone for the day.

I rode some beautiful country roads, and some crazy-town hills for all of 70 miles. Recon on Quassy did eventually happen, but the 95 mile ride was cut fairly short as I worried about saving some in the tank for first brick coming the next day. Before starting Rev3 course, I took a moment to survey the park lake, which happened to be open, envisioning race day excitement not more than 8 weeks away. As I started the course after leaving the park, I immediately realized everything I heard was true, i.e., it will be a tough day. I was hoping the 20 miles or so up to the start of the course from Bethany was some alter-universe-type anomaly, where near every street name I came upon ended with ‘Hill’, and surely didn’t disappoint in delivering on that promise. However, that was not the case, as Quassy proved to be just as demoralizing.

In a good way of course. Hell, just being out of NYC is a day worth shouting about. I eventually cut the course short, but not before seeing a few like-minded tri-geeks out there doing the same. The ride back to Bethany, proved to be just as lovely, and the wind was much more forgiving heading south (which can be a bugger in it’s own right). I must say, again, it’s beautiful country up there. Cut the prescribed 6 hour ride to 4.5, and called it a day with an awesome dinner concocted by the power of 2.

Inaugural Brick.

After making our way back to the city that night from the highlands of Connecticut, we fueled up at our favorite local Tex-Mex joint and called it a night. I had some anxiety about the next day, as it had been sometime since I had bricked anything (approximately 10 years), and never the three together. Thus, food in belly, sleep was the next item on tap.

Sunday started at 6:30AM with my usual power-slam breakfast of oatmeal, raisins, walnuts, bananas, and Greek yogurt. I would have gladly started the day much earlier, but the swim as it turns has dictated otherwise, with the gym not opening its doors on the weekend to practically noon!! Well, 8AM really, and in my warped perception of time, equally midday. Good weather was in the forcast, I believe with temperatures reaching the low 70’s, which would surely make things all the better. So I hoped.

The brick started officially somewhere around quarter to 8AM when I found myself pedaling to the gym for an on time 2000 swim start to the day. Nothing too exciting to report and after a smooth 30 minutes, I popped out immediately and made my way to the locker for a quick change and pedal home for the commuter to trusty steed bike swap.

After a nutrition check for a long day, essentials in jersey pockets and onboard bottles, I headed out the door shortly after 9AM. All and all, despite being somewhat of a mind-numbing repeat ride, I had a really good day on the bike. I did however go just a little too hard I believe (more on that later), but the sun was shining and it was hard not to be just a little amped. That day’s ride took me by way of Nyack, NY up 9W. Pretty standard for these parts, but I opened it up in a few places to kill the boredom. On that note, strangely my legs felt just fine from the killer hills the day before. That in itself was a welcome reassurance of the four months of base paying off.

I activated Michelle when back in Brooklyn for the planned bike/shoe swap. This pretty much entailed a ‘The Eagle has landed’ conversation as we reconfirmed our planned meeting location in Prospect Park. We met shortly thereafter, and after hopping off my bike, lacing up, changing to a singlet, a big sweaty kiss on the cheek, and a self-assuring ‘This is fine’ spoken aloud, I took my first steps…a very gelatinous first few steps. That was my indication that I went just a little harder than I was aiming to. I did however find my pace after approximately a mile or so – and kicked it over with a comfortable 45 minute 5 miler.

That was it. I did it! Overall I felt a little tired, but not trashed. About a 7 hour day in total.

Fuzzbusted.

So, I’m going to skip the details largely of brick part two, as in day-long format the two are identical. Rather in all the natural anticipation I’ll get right to the heart of the matter, i.e., the explanation of the title. Funny thing is, in the week and a half since that happened most of you have already heard it’s explanation. Ah well, here it is again, documented for history…

So coming into this week, I had a new approach for the ride after some real world experience and some sage advice from John. Basically that entailed nothing more than pacing myself. I’m quickly finding out how much of this is about just that. It’s a long day out there, and it’s the combo that counts, i.e., you can’t go out and kill yourself on the ride, and blow up on the run. It’s a fine line refined only by experience.

So again, 9W was the plan of the day. However I had decided to switch it up a bit with a ride along the Palisades Interstate Park for a change of scenery. What I didn’t know was that the apparently areas of this beautiful stretch are off–limits for bicycles. Really? In a park? On a road traveled by cars?

So how did this occur to me? Well I was heading up a really nice long climb in said park when I happened upon not one, not two, but three(!), yes a grand total of three NJ police cars. Your (NJ) tax dollars hard at work! In all seriousness, as I made my way up to the blockade, reminiscent of international border security, cop A entered the scene by extending his arm into a very forceful stop signal followed by a verbal ‘Halt’. Yes, sadly, I’m being honest. Some of the standard ‘Do you know why I’m stopping you?’, and ‘Do you have your ID?’ came shortly thereafter. ‘No’ to the first, ‘Yes’ to the latter. So as cop A disappears to a car to check-up on me, another cop, we’ll call him cop B starts chatting me up:

‘Are you from the city?’

‘Yes, Brooklyn’, as I remember the brim of my Brooklyn cycling cap plainly visible saying just that extending from under my helmet.

‘So dey don’t let yous guys ride in central park?’

’90 miles get’s pretty boring really quickly.’

Shortly thereafter cop A returns to lecture me on this road being prohibited for this or that reason, with a sign being somewhere that I must have missed, and I had to walk my bike for the remainder of the hill up to 9W. After which, he mentioned in passing to cop B that he was done for the day after handing me a very appropriate 50 dollar fine.

Lovely. Suppose that was bound to happen. Just glad it took 15 years, however I really wish it could’ve happened under different circumstances. Like how about all those times when I was breaking the speed limit? Really, wouldn’t that be rad?

‘Yeah I got a speeding ticket yesterday.’

‘Really, I thought you didn’t own a car.’

‘I don’t.’

Fuzzbusted: Part I of II

To all my loyal following I do apologize for the huge gap between this and my last post! My ‘populous’ is waiting as Michelle says. Anyway, in all seriousness, it’s been a tiring two weeks on and the 2-3 hours a day that I had to myself these past weeks before I found myself drooling on the couch half-asleep at 9PM, despite the best intentions, left the blog gathering dust. I can however say there is a lot to update on, primarily being my first two long days totaling out at nearly 8 hours, and one killer ride in a state that grows hills. Let’s get to it.

These two weeks on started somewhat frustratingly (to put it nicely) back on the 6th with a way overly crowed morning swim. I guess you can’t not expect this every once and a while living in NYC, but it does make workouts a near impossibility, as you have to default to lap swimming, and on this particular morning with 4 other individuals. Truthfully, it was the first really nice day of Spring, abnormally nice if I remember correctly topping out at 80+, which brought people out of the woodwork to go for a swim. Cest la vie. I liken it to the start of the year in gyms across the country, i.e., crazy town. With time, it returns to normal. I have confidence the same will happen with the pool.

Besides that, weekday training was spot-on, with everything really clicking into place. Generally I feel great albeit pretty wiped come end of day, but I guess that’s to be expected. The interesting thing I’ve started to notice is how much volume I’m able to do now, and still feel fresh the next day. I was trying to narrow it down after a few surprising examples I’ll get to, but I truly believe its just my base fitness/adaptation continuing to increase. I’ve never done over 4 months of base, so it feels pretty amazing to have a really tough day, completely recover, and do it again the next. Of course it’s not that easy, and nutrition and rest factor into this 10-fold, however it certainly has gotten easier these days.

As an aside to that, I can say without the slightest hesitation that I feel better than I’ve ever felt in my life. The best. Stronger, healthier, leaner and happier (can’t attribute it all to being a triathlete of course). It never crossed my mind that I would ever tip the scales at a lean 163, a morning resting heart rate in the upper 30’s, healthy strong lungs with not a hint of asthma, etc., etc. If you know me, you know I’m only saying this out of excitement, excitement that all this is just a result of doing something I’ve found and truly am more passionate about than anything I have ever been before. Even in what I thought to be my previous healthiest points in 15 years of cycling, I came nowhere near as close to where I am now (and I have still so far to go!). I love the diversity the 3 sports, being an endurance athlete, and the physical and mental limits it can push you to. It’s addictive, and more satisfying than any high, natural or unnatural, I’ve ever had. That, and I wish I found this sooner, but to be cliché, better late than never.

And who would of thought, in addition, swimming would be something I’d actually look forward to? Yeah, really, I’m nearly there. Really enjoying it that is. Swimming continues to improve for me, with noticeable improvements in stroke and breathing efficiency. My swim totals were approximately 9500-1000 each week, and continue to consist of two targeted 3500-4000 strength/endurance, with a new weekend addition of 2000 as part of my first bricks (more to come on that). My 2000 aerobic (not killing myself) time is just a little over 30 minutes now. Few things to round out here over the upcoming weeks, mainly pertaining to some open water practice in my wetsuit, but I’ll get there. Both are on schedule for the upcoming months in the lakes of Connecticut.

Running. Man I still love it. Who would’ve thought? Anyway, my two 20 milers on these past Wednesdays went status quo, with comfortable long pace times at 7:30-7:45/mile. Shorter Friday runs the same, but with the shorter hour on, pretty much are base/recovery runs. Changed it up a little on this past Wednesday with a new route up to Chelsea and back. Good for a change of pace and next week I’m looking into just running to work. I wish I could report more here, but things continue to improve, with the satisfaction of a good run never waning…

So what does the title of this post refer to? I think I’m far enough behind to break this update into two parts. I’ll get to that and the weekend details come tomorrow. Way past my bedtime, but then again, it is a recovery week…

29 something?!

Homecoming Scotland Day 10K Race Report

No, not hardly. That was the, not mine, winning time of the day. And if you know me enough to know that I’m just being snarky when I say that wasn’t my time, you’ll also most likely realize the true undercurrent of how impressed I am by that winning finish from Saturday’s race. Saturday very much put things into perspective for me, and the absolute power and speed of some these guys and gals have out there. Not to mention, a (re)newed appreciation even amongst my fellow corral members who spoke casually before the gun went off of sub 6 targets.

I suppose, last week’s 15K changed everything for me, where once a sub 7 seemed an impossibility, and the effort it took to accomplish such, compared to the winning time of the day like my time compared to those crossing the line with an approximate 8:20 pace. This is not ego, no, this is awe. For instance, if 8:20 is teetering on not even my long run pace border, but a recovery run pace, does that mean these guys crank out their easy runs at a leisurely 6:30? That’s amazing. I ask these questions somewhat rhetorically, as I very well knew this before, but perspective somehow always changes everything.

That being said, Saturday brought Michelle and I to Central Park for her first race of the season. (One which she did awesome with, with a personal best 8:11!) It was an amazingly beautiful day, with temps well into the 50’s and full sunshine by the time we were lining up. The turnout this week nearly quadrupled last Sunday’s race, topping out near 8,000 people, which also had something to do with the nice weather I would imagine. All and all the energy was definitely heightened and we were immediately charged as a result.

After a short pit stop at my office to drop our gear, we headed over to the park around 9:20, which left us with just enough time for a super easy 2 mile warm-up on the cushy bridal paths followed by some light stretching. All in all by the time we were called to corral, we were jazzed and ready to go. My corral, being the first, left Michelle and I parting around 10 minutes to the gun (which happened to be just enough time to find here way back to her start position!).

There was definitely a whole different breed of racers out Saturday as we herded in like cattle waiting for the start. Not just in shear volume, but intensity. Don’t get me wrong, in general the comradery amongst runners is great, but the scent of serious competition was in the air (I think blood was there too). I never imagined myself in with the likes of some of those around me, but as I’m quickly discovering as I did with bike racing, one of the quickest ways to get faster is to run (ride) with people who will undoubtedly smoke your ass. Yep, there were more than their share this time around knocking shoulders with me who could, and would, do just that.

The gun went off right on time, and after the usual awkward shuffling as we all started kicking it over, it was go time. Make no doubt about it, the shorter the races get, the faster the field tends to get. Saturday was no exception. I quickly found myself getting carried away with initial pacing around 5:45. I also knew that that kind of effort would blow me up at no more than 5K, so I dialed it down a notch. However one of the best parts of racing with people that will most certainly kick your ass, is that only they have the key to opening that little bit of reserve you can never quite tap into running solo. The trick is finding someone that will only slightly kick your ass, and then hang on, i.e., the golden carrot.

The race took us on a full reverse loop of the park. Central Park racing is still somewhat new to me, so I can’t say I know what to expect, but truthfully I almost prefer it in running races, especially short course. There isn’t much to go into detail from here on out, as after I found my pace, and those that I would stick with, all that remained was the execution through the remaining miles. I did however manage to take some notes along the way, mainly with hill strategy. That and some adequate suffering rounded out the day.

I finished sub 40, and although my Garmin had my unofficial time at 6:19, I ended up with a 6:23 official. I was initially a little disappointed to be honest, hoping for 6:20 or less, but I’ll take it. I have to remember, above all, to be thankful just to be able to be out there enjoying myself. After downing some Gatorade, I managed to stand by and pick Michelle out as she came into the finish. We followed it up with some light stretching, downed some carbs, and ended the morning with a 1-2 mile cool down as we wound our way back to my office.

An awesome day in so many ways: 39:42, 6:23 Pace, 74/685 AG, beautiful weather, and lil’ Midge.

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?