To Hopkinton ...

As far as the running life goes, I cannot say that 2011 worked out as planned.

There never was a plan.

The training was day to day. Things happened; I reacted.

Last year's training log featured zero 100-mile weeks. There is not much of a training log, either. Most of the year is unaccounted for.

As Haruki Marukami puts it in "What I Talk About When I Talk About Running," "I don't know why, but the older you get, the busier you become."

Last year did include long stretches of solid, quality-based training. There is perhaps no other year that I was as consistent with not only speed work, but group speed work.

It was also an excellent year for our running club. Our coach, Jerry Alexander, is a game-changer, our very own Bill Squires.

I didn't really realize this until just a few minutes ago, when I searched for my results at Marathon Guide. I have only one marathon result in 2010 and 2011.

It goes back, in a sense, to the 2010 Chicago Marathon. 2009 had been a great year. I had averaged about 10 miles a day, including breaks. I PRed in the half, won a small marathon and ran well at the Philadelphia Marathon. But 2010 got off to a shaky start. Early in the year I got a foot infection that required five weeks off. Come May, I went all-in in preparing for the marathon. Then, in the weeks before the race, I picked up an odd case of sciatica that meant basically zero running for the last week of the taper. To make matters worse, we ended up catching a hot day. For the first - and hopefully only - time, I dropped out of a marathon. This was a low point.

It took months after Chicago for me to get my body in order. By then, my life had changed. During my taper for Chicago, I started a 20-month, Saturday master's program at American University. For a journalist, it was like adding on another assignment or two per week. Getting in good training became considerably more tricky. This continues to factor into my running life now, as I'm two courses away from getting my MA in Interactive Journalism in May.

In 2011, a good week of training had me getting in about 85 miles. Busier weeks left me time for more like 60 or 65.

At some point last year I decided that 2012 was the year I'd go to Boston. Thing was, I would need a qualifier. Given my schedule, though, I was not sure if I wanted to do a fall marathon, recover for a couple months and then start preparing for Boston. I also knew that I did not want to focus on a marathon in the spring. Somehow - I am not able to recall exactly what I was thinking - I decided I would focus on shorter stuff in the spring and cap the season with the inaugural Gettysburg North-South Marathon.

I think I was thinking that it was time to stop thinking so much.

It was time to do something new. In the running world at large, 2011 will go down as a year, as many have written, that the marathon was totally and utterly redefined. Course records were broken at all five major marathons; the world record is now 2:03:38.

The way I see it is that the idea of running 20 miles with your mind and 10K with your heart is basically out the window. For pros like Geoffrey Mutai - who won the Boston Marathon in the fastest time ever run and then broke the course record in New York - the marathon is no different, really, than the 10K. The distance, in other words, is no obstacle: For Mutai, for example, 20 or 22 miles is not the time when you start to wilt; it is a time, despite the pain, that you go all in - and accelerate.

You don't hear running dorks talking about Lydiard and Pfitzinger that often anymore. Now, more often, you hear Canova and Rosa - or Salazar, Mahon and McMillan.

By taking a break from the marathon, and by taking a break from structure, I was able to rethink what I was doing. I thought about a lot of the mistakes I had made in training. I thought about how, on one hand, I continue to improve; on the other, I feel like I have not come close to realizing my goals.

Things did not click for me last year until mid-April at the Pike's Peek 10K. It's funny, too, because I almost pulled out of this race the night before. All spring my right heel had been a real bother, and the week leading up to Pike's Peek it was particularly tight. The afternoon before, after I got home from class, I went over to the gym (it was raining) to do a shakeout on the treadmill and see how it felt. Well, it felt pretty bad. After I got back to my apartment I sat down on the couch, somewhat bummed, and talked to Emily about it. She offered me a glass of wine. Then I had a second (and I think maybe a third.) Suddenly, my heel felt pretty much fine. I ate dinner and went to bed.

The next morning I had no race plan. I was loose. Warren Zevon was the perfect pre-race music.

Pike's Peek is really an amazing race. For one, I have never been on on a starting line (at least in the first couple rows) with so many ridiculously fast African runners. You get a great mix of locals, and the point-to-point course is as fast as it gets. Minutes before the start Andy Sovonick asked me what I wanted to run and I said, without really thinking, "mid 32s." I eased into it, going through the mile in around 5:10. Then, up ahead, I saw Chris Sloane, a comrade who had a really inspiring year. "There's the race," I thought. I caught up to Sloane, and we worked together much of the way, with him slipping away around 4.5 miles. We both ran big PRs. It was my first time under 32 minutes, as my chip time was 31:38 (top picture).

Racing without any real plan last year - without putting any pressure on myself to peak for anything - really re-connected me with the pure spirit of racing. Get on the line, get out smart, gradually work your way onto the pain train. Cross the line, shake the hands of anyone around you, feel good about it. You raced. You did not do anything stupid; you gave it what you had.

Racing is not pretty. I remember Pikes Peek as one of my more, as my college coach used to say, effortless efforts. In reality, for Sloane and I it felt like what you see in this picture:



Things are good on the work front. I started a new job recently at the Department of Transportation. Rather than drive 45 minutes to work, I hop on a bike and get there in 5. I also was recently named Senior Editor at the Washington Running Report. When it works out, I've developed a habit of racing and reporting.

Long story short, I have hit a good rhythm. I feel very blessed. Today, in fact, I'm an uncle: This morning my sister-in-law gave birth to Lucas Edward Pullman.

When I started marathoning in 2005, if you had asked me what I planned to be doing - as a runner - at 30, I would have told you, "winding it down." Transitioning, as they say.

It's my hope that, at 30, I'm just getting started. There are too many great examples right now of runners who are running personal bests well into their 30s. Look at Meb!

There's more I could go into, but I think I'll leave it at that. I think I dropped some hints, maybe, about my planned training approach for Boston, but I would rather not write about it yet. I will not, in other words, be blogging about my 12-week prep for my next marathon. I've learned that it causes me to put too much pressure on myself.

I will, however, keep a log and publish it after April 16. If I can remember, which is somewhat doubtful, I will tweet about my daily training.

Anyway, it's 9 p.m. Getting past my bedtime ...

An Interview with David Berdan

Photo by Clay Shaw

David Berdan’s experience at the Baltimore Marathon made for an interesting story. Not just because the 30-year-old school teacher from Owings Mills, Md., ran a personal best of 2:21:19, or because his 11th place finish made him the top local runner. What made the story interesting for TV news stations was how this year's Baltimore Marathon shaped up: Six hundred meters into the race, a local runner - not a professional from East Africa, in other words - had the lead. That local runner happened to be David Berdan.

“I felt like we were going really slow,” Berdan wrote to me in an e-mail. “I thought everyone would go right with me and we could all keep working together.”

Facing stiff headwinds, the dozen or so runners in the lead pack stuck together, letting Berdan go. Passing through 5 miles in 26:20, Berdan, who was shooting for a qualifier for the U.S. Olympic Marathon Trials in January, had a lead of 1:06. Around 11 miles, when the pack caught him, Berdan stayed with the group for almost three miles, going through halfway in 1:08:36 – “exactly what I wanted to do,” Berdan wrote.

I still felt good, but then they picked it up again. After a few 5:30s and a 5:40 I knew (sub) 2:19 was out of the picture. At that point, even though my legs were killing me, I still felt like I had energy. I was able to somewhat enjoy the rest of the race. I ran 5:40 to 5:45 pace from 18 to 25 miles, but ended up picking it up from 25 to 26 because I saw previous race winner Julius Keter up ahead and he looked like he was hurting pretty bad. I ran that mile in 5:02 and caught him at the 26-mile mark.

Now, consider this: Berdan’s 5:02 split from miles 25 to 26 is roughly equivalent to that of his high school track best for 1600. His 5:23 average at the Baltimore Marathon - a tough, hilly race - is about equal to his high school best for two miles.

Berdan’s running life began in earnest at Elizabethtown College in Elizabethtown, Pa., in a Division III program that was then in the process of transforming from one of the worst performers in the annual NCAA Mideast Regional Cross Country Championships to one of the best. Despite numerous injuries, which Berdan attributes to a six-inch growth spurt he had between his freshman and junior years, he qualified for nationals all four years and was a two-time Division III All-American in track. He notched bests of 3:57 (1500), 8:26 (3,000), 14:31 (5,000) and 30:14 (10,000).

On improving as a runner: I learned that in order to improve you have to train! But I also learned that you have to train smart. I didn't go out and hammer every day. I learned from Weldon Johnson (the founder of LetsRun.com), after living with him in Flagstaff, Ariz., that it was okay to go out and run 7:30 or slower on easier days. To this day most of my easy running isn't faster than 7 minutes per mile. We were a fairly high mileage program while I was at Elizabethtown; my junior and senior years I did get up to 90 MPW a few times. There was also a lot of focus on longer intervals (we never did workouts like repeat 400s), lactate threshold workouts, and a weekly long run over hilly terrain.

Berdan only decided to enter Baltimore three weeks before the race. A father of two and a full-time teacher, he said his summer and fall schedule was too full for a cycle of marathoning training. So he had geared his training around the Philadelphia Rock 'N' Roll Half Marathon, where hoped to qualify for the trials by running under 1:05:00. His time of 1:05:53 was a personal best; it even made him the top finisher from Maryland, Washington, D.C., or Virginia. But it still fell short of the standard. "I felt really strong at 5 minutes per mile," he wrote, "but 4:55 felt too fast."

Entering Baltimore: I'm friends with Clay Shaw, the elite athlete coordinator at Baltimore, and at first I told him I wanted to do Baltimore, but just as a long run in training for Philadelphia. He convinced me to just give it a go. He said, “You're fit now; take a shot at it.” I agreed. Ideally I would have had several long runs of 20 to 22 miles and I like to do one 26- to 28-miler, but my longest run for Baltimore was 18 miles. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that around 18 miles is where my legs just started to feel shot, really sore and Jell-O-like. The pounding on the first half, along with running in the wind by myself, had just caught up with me.

Berdan will take another shot at the trials in 25 days at the Philadelphia Marathon.

AFTER E-TOWN

After graduating in 2004, Berdan moved to Salida, Colo., where he worked as an assistant fisheries biologist with the Colorado Division of Wildlife. It was a six-month position, and Berdan spent his days hiking long distances at high altitudes to do fish sampling on a mountain stream. He still managed to get out for short runs in the morning.

When the job ended, Berdan moved to York, Pa., worked at Inside Track running stores and resumed serious training, lowering his best for 5,000 to 14:13. That summer, while on a road trip, he got a call from Zap Fitness’ Pete Rea, who invited him to join its training program in Blowing Rock, N.C. That fall, Berdan finished 18th at the USA 10K Road Championships and 28th at the USATF Club Cross Country Nationals. That winter, though, he tweaked his knee during an icy long run. Several visits to specialists later, his knee was not any better. The injury was similar to one Berdan had in college that had required surgery. Lacking health insurance, he decided to leave the program and move to Baltimore.

There, Berdan met his future wife, Amanda, at a running party. His knee, meanwhile, continued to ache. Painful 30- to 40-minute runs were the most he could get through. Berdan also tired of jobs found through a temp agency. These gigs were hardly what he went to school for. So he tried teaching, landing a job at Booker T. Washington Middle School (not to mention the health insurance that allowed him to get knee surgery).

After two years at Booker T. Washington, Berdan moved to Garrison Forest School, a college preparatory school that has a residential program for girls grades 8 to 12. This is his fourth year at Garrison, where he teaches science and coaches cross country. He and Amanda have two children, ages 3 and 7 months. The family lives on the campus.

It's a rewarding life, says Berdan, who now races for the Harrisburg-based Keystone Track Club. He admits, though, that fitting in the training it takes to run at a high level is not easy.

On his training schedule: Most days I find myself getting in a shorter run over my lunchtime and trying to get in another shorter run with the girls at practice. For harder workouts I get up at 5 a.m. to get it in before school. My wife is very supportive, and I usually am able to get in a longer run or workout on Saturday or Sunday, but then I'm playing with the kids all day. I'm not complaining. I absolutely love everything about my life right now.

AIMING FOR THE TRIALS

On the marathon: I knew in college that I would ultimately be a marathoner. I always seemed to get better as races got longer. I remember telling people in college that I wanted to qualify for the Olympic Trials in the marathon for 2008, so I was definitely thinking about it already. I ended up running 2:23:45 at the Steamtown Marathon in 2007. (It was in the 80s by the finish; Berdan finished second.)

Berdan had debuted the year before at the California International Marathon: I ran in the 2:27s. I felt awesome until 18 miles; at 21 miles I found myself sitting on a curb, contemplating whether or not I wanted to finish the race. I sucked it up and finished, but I wasn't crazy about the marathon after it. I spoke with Steve Spence later that year and he told me that his first marathon was similar. He told me it takes several before you figure it out. I still don't think I have it figured out. I'm hoping that all changes in Philadelphia.

Making the trials: Qualifying has always been one of my running goals and I know it will happen eventually. I also know that my best marathoning years are ahead of me. I'm 30 and really feel like I'll be able to run well at the marathon over the next 10 years. That leaves two more Olympic Trials after this one. I don't have any plans on stopping. I really love competing and running has been such a huge aspect of my life. I don't see myself giving it up any time soon.

The Chicago Experiment

The Chicago Marathon was today. Even though I was not racing, I woke up this morning feeling its presence. It's a marathon that sort of has a hold over me. This summer, when I was in Chicago for a wedding, I ran along Lake Michigan on a pathway across the road from Millenium Park and realized that my marathon life's highest and lowest moments had happened in the same spot: at a stoplight along Lake Shore Drive in a rather sketchy spot to flag down a cab. In 2006, I got in the cab there and, having run a PR, was nothing less than elated. Last year, after dropping out, it was the feeling of unadulterated defeat.

I woke up this morning thinking about my teammates and training partners who were racing. Among them, Karl Dusen, who had qualified for the 2008 U.S. Olympic Marathon Trials at Chicago (an even split 2:20) the same year I ran my PR, was poised to once again qualify. In the past several months, Karl had run an array of awesome workouts, one of which I helped pace him through, running six laps of his 8, 4 of his 6, etc. Media outlets reported that the temps today in Chicago, for elite runners, were in the mid 60s with low humidity; mixed in with that, though, was the following: "another unseasonably warm year."

Today, Karl was smart enough to know that the conditions were not going to allow him to qualify. The trials standard for men is sub-2:19, and after going through halfway in 5:21 pace, six seconds slow, Karl opted, wisely, to go into cruise control so he can take another shot at the Philadelphia Marathon in late November.

A training partner, Evan Jurkovich, who ran 2:31 at Twin Cities last year, was very fit going into today's race but struggled in the 20s to come home in 2:36.

In marathoning, training is just a part of it. So much else - especially for non-professionals, I would argue - needs to click.

Last year was hot, too. I am pretty sure, in fact, that the heat did me in more than the hamstring/sciatica issue I picked up 10 days before the race.

2009 was hot. 2008 was cold. 2007 was the disaster year. One thing, meanwhile, that I know about 2006 was that there was something going on that year that forced the marathon to happen two weeks later than it usually does. It wound up being cold and windy that year, but most people would say favorably so. No doubt, it would be a much safer bet - far as avoiding hot temps - to hold the race in the second half of October, but it does not appear that that will happen.

The Chicago Marathon is now a race that offers one of the fastest courses in the United States ... if.

Three in a row.

One runner died today in Chicago. One runner died in 2007, too.

DEALING WITH HEAT

Last month, I was struck by Nike Oregon Project coach Alberto Salazar's comments regarding his athlete Galen Rupp's performances leading up to his breaking the American record for 10,000 meters. Salazar said he knew that Rupp was making progress in his races leading up to the breakthrough because they had been run in warm weather, which he had dealt with, well, relatively well - for a Caucasian, anyway.

Rupp later told LetsRun this:

"I don't think it has anything to do with being white. His point is just that I'm bigger than these guys. My mom always laughs because she says it's easy to see me as I'm 4 or 5 inches taller than everyone else. When you're running in the heat, that can catch up to you. I agree with the sentiment (expressed by Salazar). Bigger people don't do better in running in the heat for longer distances - its' a scientific fact."

It definitely seems that way, anyway.

Interestingly, Russia's Liliya Shobukhova, who dominated today's women's race - winning in 2:18:20, one of the fastest times ever for this course - called the weather "absolutely gorgeous."

Men's winner Moses Mosop, in setting a new course record of 2:05:37, did say the conditions were "humid." But for a guy who came into the race saying he was only 80 to 85 percent, he did not seem to be much affected by it, nor did other Kenyan and Ethiopian athletes.

Look at race results in Chicago from the past half decade or so. You will see how much, during the hot years, that the results thin out after the sub 2:10 crowd.

As the article by the IAAF points out, Sammy Wanjiru, who died in May, really revolutionized marathoning in two ways. One: He encouraged young Kenyan runners to go straight to the marathon, where the money is. Two: He proved that heat was not a factor - at least for him and many other East Africans.

When you are on the starting line and the conditions are bad, you want to tell yourself something like, "Relax; everyone has to deal with it."

Is that true, though, when it comes to heat?

ONE GREAT AMERICAN MARATHONER

Ryan Hall, who finished fifth in 2:08:04, continues to show that he is an incredibly consistent marathoner, not to mention the only American marathoner who can truly tangle with the East Africans. He has an ability to finish strong. What he lacks, however, is the ability to maintain contact with the leaders after the crazy surges happen. Given that fact, it's hard to see how he will ever be able to win a major marathon.

"The pacers would see a slow split on the back of the truck then hit it," Hall told David Monti. "I think our splits were all over the place ... It was kind of taking me out of my rhythm."

Hall, honestly, impresses me a little more every time he races. His approach is to run his own race. Really, there is just no way you can knock it.

Still, what Mosop's coach, the renowned Renato Canova, says in the IAAF piece above is telling:

"If you want to be a top athlete you have to be a little bit wild, not be an accountant."

Let's end with a quote from Hall:

“There are not many American guys out there running 2:08, so I’ll take it."

Woodrow Wilson Bridge Half - Racing and Reporting

Moses Kigen Kipkosgei winning Sunday's Woodrow Wilson Bridge Half Marathon.

I ran the Woodrow Wilson Bridge Half Marathon yesterday and also reported on the race for the Washington Running Report.

I ran a very bad race at Sept. 18's Rock N Roll Philadelphia Half Marathon, where I ran 1:12:10, two minutes off what I ran there in 2009. I was concerned with the slower time, however, less than the fact that I had failed to execute a sound racing strategy. Yesterday I ran even slower - a minute slower, in fact - but I know I ran a much better race than I did in Philadelphia. More on that later, as I am developing a post specific to these two races that I hope will have some general value to fellow students of the sport. (I realize I have not written about my own running in quite some time. This has been partially due to my hectic schedule, partially due to a lack of interest, and partially because I have been wanting, for some time, to ball up everything I have been jotting down into an essay of sorts; I just can't figure out what I am trying to say.)

Yesterday was a fine opportunity to put on the journalist hat. Woodrow Wilson Bridge Half Marathon Race Director Steve Nearman put together a rather incredible field. Among the elites, I was able to speak with race winner Moses Kigen Kipkosgei, who finished third in last year's New York City Marathon, and two members of Team USA Arizona, a Flagstaff-based group coached by Greg McMillan.

Here's some bonus material from Kipkosgei. At New York last year, Kipkosgei in some respects executed a strategy that is the opposite of the more common Kenyan tactic of going for broke. Rather than roll with a pace he felt was too fast, the now-28-year-old decided, around 10K, to break from the lead group and run his own race. When rookie Gebre Gebremariam, who would win, and Emmanuel Mutai broke apart the lead pack, it appears (though I honestly do not recall this from watching the race) that Kipkosgei, who sixth months earlier finished 8th in Boston, was able to pick up the pieces. Based on Kipkosgei's comments to me after yesterday's race - his tuneup for a return to New York - he seems to feel it is important that he not be too influenced by what any of his competitors are doing. That's not necessarily a winning strategy for New York; but since most of the pros up front are going for broke, it's definitely a sound one as far as finding a spot in the money. As for his New York race plan, Kipkosgei said, "I cannot tell you that. It depends on how the race develops.” So, we'll see.

Kiposgei, meantime, bases his training in Eldoret. A week before his race yesterday, where he covered 13.1 tough miles at 4:46 pace, Kipkosgei told me he ran 15K in Kenya in 44:13, which is 4:44 pace.

The Team USA Arizona athletes I interviewed were Danny Mercado, a University of Oregon alum who sports a sweet stache, and Jordan Horn, who ran for California State University, Fullerton, and has been training with McMillan for four years. Both these guys grabbed U.S. Olympic Marathon Trials qualifiers yesterday; they both were also pretty pumped about their results.

Horn, for one, has been focusing on the mile the past two years (he said he cracked four minutes). Mercado, in turn, had never run a half marathon.

Mercado just graduated from University of Oregon, and is new to McMillan's program.

On his training, which currently amounts to 90 MPW: "I run the least, but it still feels bulky. At least, it feels bulky to me."

Horn is putting in about 110 MPW, but this figure also falls on the low end in comparison to his teammates, he said.

Mercado on decisions he faced post-Oregon: "I definitely learned from mistakes in previous seasons, as far as training goes. ... I didn’t qualify for the 10K final at NCAAs, so that was a pretty disappointing end to the season. So I was pretty nervous coming out of college, just as far as deciding what I’m going to do. I was really, really lucky that Greg wanted to talk to me. ... I’m happy just being able to complete the half. It’s really just a testament to the training I’m doing, being in Flagstaff, being at altitude, having a really good support system."

Unfair is Fair, and Vice Versa

The I.A.A.F is prepared to rewrite the record books. In late August, the world governing body of track and field decided that records in women's road races will not count unless they are set in a women's-only race, the New York Times reported yesterday. Talk about the rule change has been circulating since the decision was made - but yesterday's article by the Times (one) adds more context and (two) brings news of the change to people who are not regular visitors to LetsRun.

What does this mean? It means, for one, that the women's world marathon record will no longer be 2 hours 15 minutes 25 seconds, arguably the most impressive world record currently in the books. The world record, instead, will be Paula Radcliffe's third fastest mark: 2:17:42 at the 2005 London Marathon, a race in which elite women, as has become more common in major marathons, started 45 minutes ahead of the men's field. Radcliffe's 2:15:25 will now be known as the "world best."

This is interesting, though: Radcliffe told the Times that she intentionally ran next to the men in her pack, not behind them. She was not drafting, but racing.

Now, here's a quote from Mary Wittenberg, director of the New York City Marathon:

"The I.A.A.F. wanted to show that women can stand on their own two feet, that they don’t need guys to help them get to world records. There’s definitely a difference. Women run faster with men as pacers, about a two-minute differential on average."

That, in a nutshell, is what concerns the I.A.A.F. What put this rule change on the table, apparently, was Mary Keitany's world-record breaking half marathon run in February. Paced by a man, the Kenyan athlete lowered the record by 35 seconds.

But, back to Wittenberg's point of women running faster with male pacers. Well, of course they do. They do not, however, run faster because they are running behind men. They are running faster because they are running behind pacers.

Pacers, or rabbits, meanwhile, have become more than just ever-present in all word record running attempts; it has gotten to the point that they are considered entirely necessary to make them happen. We are not really talking about the affect of having assistance, then, so much as we are talking about how much assistance - and to what degree - is acceptable for a performance to still count as a world record.

What, however, is the reality? The reality, or the way things stand, is as Amby Burfoot of Runner's World wrote to the Times in an e-mail:

"We all understand that as long as you cover a fair, accurate course on your own two feet, then your effort should be eligible for a world record."

Should there be a distinction between mixed races in which women, unplanned, might happen to run within a pack of men, and "staged" world record attempts during which women draft behind a male pacer from the start? That, to me, might make some sense. As it happens, the argument against "staged" world records has become a fairly popular one to make; it's just that, for the most part, such races have involved men.

How can the I.A.A.F. be concerned about Mary Keitany but not about Haile Gebrselassie? More so, how can one possibly say that Gebrselassie's 2:03:59, set during a staged time trial, is legit and Radcliffe's stunning run was not? Perhaps it's time, then, to reclassify Geb's run as the "world best."

To Boston

On the East Coast, registration for the Boston Marathon opened yesterday at 10 a.m. I filled out the race application online yesterday at around 10:05.

With most races this is a process you try to get through as quickly as possible. The main thing you are paying attention to is unclicking anything that might result in more e-mails and not clicking on anything that might cost you more money. This process was different; it's hard to explain. I actually took the time to choose my real profession; I chose the shirt in my size, not my wife's.

This felt almost life changing. Like, I woke up yesterday morning and just thought, you need to start being better about things. About everything. You need to start living better in all ways. You need to really imbibe the lessons of Don Juan and start living like death is on your shoulder. Stop messing around. Focus. Be the person you really want to be; follow all the way through.

I do not want to say I will train harder for this race than I ever have before. What I want to say is that I will train smarter - with more focus, with more zeal.

My priorites will be family, work, school and running, in that order. In turn, I will, whenever possible, excise the intangibles (the distractions). That could make a huge difference.

I will write more about what I have been doing in training a bit later on - maybe after Sunday's Philadelphia Rock N Roll Half Marathon. But, in short, the purpose of everything I am doing right now in training has been to prepare myself to train as effectively as possible for Boston.

The new year can't come fast enough.

Frank's Story

"I threw a 4:33 surge between miles nine and 10, and from that point on I was out of sight of the guys trailing me—Mamo Wolde [of Ethiopia], Derek Clayton [of Australia], and Kenny [Moore of the United States]," Shorter says, recalling the Munich marathon. "The whole second half, I kept hitting my pace. I had the talent to go out fast, by myself, and ride the pain. I learned that from watching Clayton and Ron Clarke, but it was also something I internalized from my childhood."

Until John Brant's profile on Frank Shorter in the October edition of Runner's World, discussions of his gold medal-winning race at the 1972 Munich Olympics did not touch upon what the above quote addresses. That's because, for the most part, the details of Shorter's childhood was something only he was privy to.

News that our father of the American running boom's own father was abusive first broke in 1991, the first time Shorter shared this information with a reporter. The New York Times, based on a story that ran in a Florida newspaper, ran a brief. Shorter's father, who died in 2008, denied the accusation. The story dissipated.

With the publication of this article, Shorter tells Brant, his silence has officially been broken. With it, we have a new window into Shorter's soul.

This story is wrenching. This is a story you find out about, find it and read all the way through. Its length, or whatever is happening at work, are of no consequence.

In the picture above, Shorter, left, is racing against Bill Rodgers. It was a great rivalry. These are two runners students of the sport continue to both romanticize and study. I, for one, read both of their biographies while in high school. It was my first year of competitive running, and here's what sticks with me:

Rodgers: High mileage yet all over the the place training. Big eater.

Shorter: 17 miles a day, two track workouts, 20 miles or two hours (whichever came first) on Sunday. Barely ate. Few cans of beer per night.

This is to say that these were books about training, about the sport.

But there is something else, something more awkward. Everyone loves Boston Bill. Shorter? What I had always heard was that he was not a very nice guy - that he was kind of hard to figure out. "I'll have to see to believe it," I'd say.

This, meanwhile, was Shorter's secret. His training partners, his rivals ... no one knew.