One Month Gone

A week of no running, a week of jogging every other day, a week of six easy runs (longest was 60 minutes) ...

Dec. 14 - 20
M - 8 with 6 times 30 seconds on and off
T - 8
W - 9 with 20 minutes at tempo effort in Hains Point. Windy.
Th - AM 6 PM 3 on treadmill, strength stuff
F - 7 with 6 times 30 seconds on and off
S - 12
S - 7
Total - 60

Snow!

When I was a child, I would have put on my snow clothes and gone out to play. As an adult, I put on my running clothes and head out to run.

This is supposed to be a record-breaking December snowstorm. The snow started in the middle of the night. Now, at noon, as I sit here and type and look out the window, my belly full of breakfast, the snow is falling fast.

There were perhaps five inches of it this morning when I started running from my apartment in Capitol Hill to the Running Company in Georgetown, where I was planning to meet anyone who was dumb enough to show up to the usual Saturday run at 9 a.m. Basically, there's really just one thing to keep in mind when running through snow: Watch out for the spots where people have shoveled to make the area safe; those are the only unsafe spots.

This was not a run. This was more like an expedition. And it took me much longer to get to the store, where I met Max and Murphy, than I thought it would. (It took 37 minutes.)

The snow will unify runners. On Pennsylvania Ave., near Foggy Bottom, I saw a wizened master heading toward me. I raised my ski glove as I passed. He slapped it: "Great. No cars out here, man!"

A minute later I saw Georgetown's running squad, a solid pack. A guy yelled, "Dude, come run with us!" (Sorry, brother.)

The stores were open in Georgetown. It smelled like grease. I opened the door to the store and saw that Murphy and Max were almost ready to roll. We ran back to the Mall, following no particular path, just intuitively seeking out decent footing. I parted with them in front of the Capitol, running on the sidewalks through deep snow.

12 miles. Longest day since the marathon.

Grote Poll

I was humorously mentioned in the Grote Poll, a running Web site done by Ryan Grote, who now works for the Running Company. Thanks, Grote! (And I have to give you props for having a quote from Wallace Stevens.)

You can also read my teammate Jake Klim's recap of USATF XC Nationals in Kentucky. Klim's blog, The Red Fox, is also listed under "My Blog List."

http://grotepoll.com/component/content/article/1-grote-poll/34-club-nats-race-recap-from-georgetown-running-companys-jake-klim

On the Philadelphia Marathon

Emory Mort, left, caught me between miles 7 and 8 and shared his race plan. He even invited me to follow suit.

Step one: Catch the pack (What pack?).

Step two: Hit the half and open it up along Kelly Drive.

“Sounds good,” I said, as we passed a couple guys. “But let’s chill on this hill.”

I thought the hill was one of the two which people will mention when describing the Philadelphia Marathon as mostly flat and fast. People say the first hill comes late within the opening 10 miles and that the second comes in the 20s in Manayunk.

As it turns out, the course definitely has more than two hills, and the one Mort and I were climbing with ease was just a prelude to the real deal in Fairmount Park, which would be followed shortly thereafter by a long, leg-beating downhill.

Matt Ernst, a GRC teammate who raced here in 2008, told me months before the race, straight-up, that the Philadelphia Marathon does not roll out a PR course. I resisted that notion, though, because, well, I was aiming for one. Thought about it daily. Wanted it badly.

So, rather than listen to Ernst, I continued to imbibe the oft-told tale that Philadelphia’s marathon is not much more difficult than Chicago’s marathon, where I set my PR of 2:29.06 in 2006. But Ernst was right. Philadelphia’s course, while not nearly as difficult as New York’s, is also not nearly as swift as Chicago’s. It has two hairpin turns and at least three memorable hills. (What about that hill found shortly after the half during the brief loop off Kelly Drive?)

It should be noted, too, that the Philadelphia Marathon is not as well run as the latter big city events. For starters, clocks and mile markers were often inaccurate. And with the 8K, half marathon and marathon all finishing in the same place, the finishing stretch was clogged for the top marathoners.

This is not to say one cannot have a good experience here. I did.

This is also not to say one cannot PR here. One most certainly can.

Back to Mort. The former Cornell University standout looked like he was in the early stages of a comfortable yet peppy Sunday long run. And his pace was accelerating.

As I believed I was prepared to run around 2:27, most of my early miles were clocked between 5:33-5:40. What’s more, I consider myself someone who, as my coach would say, gets it … and thus generally adheres to two principals: Respect the distance; never force pace.

Mort, though, executing his race strategy as well as he was, made it look like I was racing without a clue. By the real hill, as I kept running between 5:35 and 5:40 per mile, Mort was gone and rolling – in the process of running the marathon (his first, I believe) the way it should be run, and finishing second in 2:24.31. After hitting the half in 1:12.42, Mort closed in the 1:11s.

The winner, John Crews, the first American to win the race since 2000, also ran negative splits – hitting the half in 1:09.24 and closing in just under 1:08 to clock 2:17.15. A graduate student and graduate of North Carolina State, Crews won by more than six minutes, hit a PR, qualified for the Olympic Trials and won his third marathon in as many attempts.

Philadelphia runner Karl Savage held the lead for 23 miles and was all alone at the half in 1:06.55, which is much faster than the course record pace. In Manayunk, as the bearded runner passed me going in the opposite direction (the second half of the race is mostly out-and-back), he still held a decent lead on Crews. But Savage faded hard, finishing third in 2:26.04 and closing with a 1:19-ish half.

A year after frigid temperatures left sheets of ice on the road near water stations, the 2009 race was run in near-perfect conditions, with mostly-calm winds and temperatures in the 40s. (Certainly none of that 30-plus MPH stuff I recall on Michigan Avenue in Chicago.) And yet, as is the nature of the marathon beast, some thrived as some suffered.

After finishing 4th in 2008 in the low 2:25s, Craig Segal, a good friend and fellow Jersey boy, finished 7th this year, in better conditions, in 2:27.36, as he struggled some in the second half. He and I had similar races: We set it up well in the first half but suffered though serious rough patches later on. However, rather than fold as our goal times slipped out of reach, we fought for every second and continued to run like hell.

There’s honor in that -- and no regrets.

---

With a starting time of 7 a.m., I woke up at 3:30 a.m. and ate the usual breakfast – a slice of toast with a decent spread of peanut butter. My dad woke up a few minutes later, and for the next couple hours we read and chatted some while hydrating and drinking coffee.

The nerves and adrenaline were already working, but just enough to let me know they would be there when I really needed them, as nothing would cause me to be more nervous than to not be nervous on race day.

Still, I was calm, confident. We were in my sister and her boyfriend’s apartment in Manayunk. My family, including my wife, was with me, and although they have been with me before other marathons as well, it felt even more reassuring in this instance, I think, because we were on our own turf rather than at a hotel.

My dad is a very good master’s runner. Some of my best memories are of watching him race in the 1990s Jersey Shore scene which featured, among other memorable characters, Dr. George Sheehan. When, as a senior in high school, I discovered for myself this sport called running, there was a newness to it that was as invigorating as it was transformative. At the same time, something was so incredibly tenable and recognizable: My entire life I had observed Dad going about his training, day after day after day.

Dad told me I was ready. So did my coach. So did my teammates. But how it would all play out?

I lined up next to Craig at the front of the line. The race started and we followed the early path of September’s Philadelphia Distance Run.

The pace up front seemed hot and I did my best to settle back and relax. As I crossed the mile in about 5:35, I heard talk around me that the clock was 10 seconds off. How does one really know?

For about 5 miles, I ran alongside Muliye Gurmu (she would finish third) and a half marathoner. Some of the clocks were well off. I knew by my own watch, however, that I was doing just fine, and passed five miles in the high 27s.

Writing this now, more than a week has passed. It’s all a blur – always is. I never wrote down my splits, and, as I always do, stopped taking them between 14 and 17 miles.

The crowds along Chestnut Street were pretty loud; I let it get to me a little too much and dropped the people I was running with, as I saw my teammate, Patrick Murphy, who was entered in the half marathon, about 50 meters ahead. When I caught him around 10k, we bumped fists and he asked me how I was feeling.

“Good,” I said. We ran together for about a half mile, and he blocked the wind for me on a short hill. Murphy, in the past few months, had been putting in as many hours at work as I had put in miles in training. But we had still managed to train together several times weekly, and it’s always exhilarating to run with a friend and teammate amidst the madness of a big city race. To think, thousands in the race and thousands lining the sidewalks … and here we are running together in the middle of the road.

I still felt strong after the real climb through Fairmount Park. As has been the case in recent marathons, I was struggling getting down water and gel – but forget that. As I made my way down a hill toward the Schuylkill River, I was pleased to see the clock at 10 miles at a few ticks over 56 minutes. I had yet to take a gel, I believe because my stomach around the 8th mile was feeling irritable. But as I hit the first hairpin turn and began my return to the art museum, the halfway point and Kelly Drive, there suddenly was deadness in my legs. I took the gel, hoping it might make me feel better.

Though my pace did not slow through the half, I was now exerting myself, pressing slightly. I thought about taking a second gel, but couldn’t get it out of my pocket.

At the half, my coach yelled out 1:13.38. I had set the race up well. Mike Carriglitto and I were running eighth and ninth. (I had noticed him take a pitstop just miles earlier and assumed he might be undergoing a bit of a rough patch, too.)

As we hit the top of the hill off Kelly Drive, Adam Tenerowicz caught us and quickly revived us. Suddenly, heading north on Kelly Drive, we had the strength of a pack.

Then, out of nowhere, it seemed, there was four with Curtis Larimer, who was feeling even better than Tenerowicz. The pace accelerated, and I knew it wasn’t sustainable.

Tenerowicz went with Larimer and Carriglitto, along with me, fell briefly behind. I then watched in amazement as Carriglitto, the picture of guts and strength, threw in a surge, caught up and, with them, disappeared.

While getting dropped, I ran a mile a couple seconds faster than the previous. Without the pack, though, things got tough in a hurry. Tenerowicz would negative split to finish sixth in 2:26.51. Carriglitto would hang on to finish eighth in 2:28.30.

Alone, against the wind, somewhere between falling off goal pace and bonking, I focused on nothing more than getting to the turn-around point in Manayunk. I covered 10 miles to 30k in 5:44 pace, propelled forward by the single thought, yes, I could still do this.

I had some terrific support. My coach and a college buddy were screaming their heads off and barking out encouragement. This was huge: the thought that someone else respected what I was doing, maybe even thought I was doing well.

Twenty miles. 1:53 and who knows how many seconds. My pace could not have been much faster than 6-flat, and I knew I would really have to dig in to run 2:28 or even break 2:30. And so I dug.

Cycling back toward the finish line with his friend and Craig’s coach, my coach could see Craig was gapping me and decided to double back to support me. I met Todd Lippin when I was a senior in college, at the track during winter break. He showed up at the track with, incidentally, Craig and another good runner as I was finishing up.

After only running one year in high school, I had been slowly – very slowly -- evolving at Gettysburg College, in a division three running program that is now quite good but then was not.

These were the days before Lets Run, the days when a young, American runner could live and train and compete in a decidedly insular world.

Todd was training for Boston, having once run 2:30 there, and invited me to train with a group of division one college guys, some graduates of the Jersey powerhouse, Christian Brothers Academy, for the rest of the winter break. For me, this was the time I began to have something of a clue – when I realized that 50-60 miles per week is not good mileage. Though you would not think it would take a major revelation to uncover something so simple, for some reason it almost always does: The guys who run fast run A LOT. As in, WAY more than do I.

Todd met up with me around 23 miles. He cycled along the path that loops around the Schuylkill and barked out words of encouragement perhaps every 15 to 30 seconds.

I was entirely catatonic and thus unable to respond – nod, even – but little by little I began to believe what he was saying: There were runners I could catch. Some guy pulled up with cramps, and I was at least able to mutter some encouragement as I passed by, running about 6:10 pace, running as hard as I could.

I passed a guy who passed me in Manayunk. I emptied it out.

Passing by the art museum and curving toward the finish, I could hear teammates yelling for me. The finishing stretch was jammed; I bobbed and weaved. Then it opened up, and I saw Larimer.

I was somehow on my toes, digging in, clenching my teeth and passing him with 10 meters left. (I thought it made me 11th, but Larimer’s chip time was a second faster.)

12th.

2:31.34.

I had run well. Or had I run poorly? I had not run a PR, had not broken 2:30 – certain goals were not achieved. But I had competed well. And I had tested my limits. And, yes, my second half – 1:17-high – was disappointing

Emotional. Short of breath. Looking out at a sea of people moving through a chute that seemed to stretch all the way to Center City. My mom found me, pulled me out near the Rodin Museum. I wrapped my arms around her and held her tight like I was 20 years younger and had just experienced something that was simply too much – all-consuming.

---

Days after the race, Runner’s World published an interview with Crews. What was his mileage in training?

130 MPW.

Of course it was.

After work, ten days after the marathon, I went out for an easy 30-minute run, my second since the race. I still felt odd strains, but also a lightness. The simple joy of running when it’s easy.

I rolled down the hill on Independence Ave. past the capital and hit the National Mall, the dirt path full of puddles. I was the only person out, and the softer surface seemed to heal my aches. I thought about taking off at the pace I wish I had in the last 10K of the race. Instead, I ran easy, enjoying the air, the rain, the movement, the monuments full of light.

In two weeks, real training will re-commence. In the meantime, I need to be honest with myself. Of seven marathons, my fastest are 2:32.20, 2:31.34 and 2:29.06. In other words, I’m a 2:30 guy … who wants to run much faster.

I had more consecutive weeks in the lows 100s for this cycle than I did before Chicago. Still, the peak week, 110, was the same, and going into this cycle I had loftier goals.

It’s not about a number. It’s about how much you can absorb. And it's not that I could not handle higher mileage than 100 or 110; it's that I could not find the time (I am a full-time journalist) to run more than that. There are more factors to consider than just work, namely my first priority: Be a good husband.

At the same time, there are very few good excuses. Look no further than my hero, Billy Rodgers, who put in monster weeks while working at a hospital. Look no further than Hains Point on Friday morning: There, without fail, I will see one of the country’s top marathoners – also a working runner – banging out a fartlek workout as part of a training week that routinely covers more than 140 miles.

In America, and in D.C., it’s a good time to be a runner. And, at 28, the writing is on the wall.

Dress Rehearsal

At BCC track. 3 miles at MP pace.

5:35 ... 5:35 ... 5:35 ... 16:45 ...

2 WU, 3 CD ... 8 miles for day

One Week Out

So it's race week.

For weeks, I have been hesitant to post. Not sure why. I think, in part, it is because I was not thrilled with my last weeks of the buildup. I did not pop the workouts the way I would like, and I did not roll my last long run of the cycle the way I like to (although a workout of 4 by 2 miles was fairly successful, the details of which are below.) Partially, I think this can be explained by the fact that the end of the buildup had more than 4 weeks up in a row. During those last two weeks, perhaps my body was calling out for rest.

Then, in the first week of my taper, on Wednesday, I was heading out M Street enroute to a 13-miler and felt a strain in my leg -- the kind you cannot ignore -- the pain fairly compartmentalized above the ankle. A tendon strain -- I knew it because I had felt the same thing in early 2006. Back then, as I recall, the area hurt a bit in the early minutes of a 20-miler. I thought it would loosen up, as most daily aches and pains are wont to do. Instead, I ended up walking home and not running for two weeks.

So, this time around, three weeks out from my goal race of the year, I knew the thing to do was shut down the run immediately. I iced, got on Aleve, took the next day off and by Friday I was good to go -- logging two 60-minute runs and 17 miles on Sunday to end the week.

Heading into week two of taper, the sluggishness was more pronounced than I am used to. Though sluggishness is common at this stage of the game -- the body has to readjust to lower mileage as it must adjust to higher mileage -- I felt it even more because my mileage plummeted even quicker than planned. On Wednesday, though, I met up with teammates at the BCC high school track and did my 3 by 1-mile, 10-days out workout better than I ever have: 4:59, 4:58, 4:59 in terrible weather. Compare that to 5:01, 5:04, 5:04 before running 2:29.

Of course, these are small things, but it helped put me back in a positive place. For now, let's just execute (I guess I am talking to myself now) and look ahead to Wednesday's dress rehearsal.

Oct. 19 - Nov. 1

AM 10 PM 5
T – 12
W – 13 with 8 by 2 minutes on, off
Th – 10, 5
F – 18 - 10 minutes easy, 20 minutes tempo, 60 minutes easy, 20 minutes tempo
S - 12
S – 20
Total - 105

AM 10 PM 6
T – 10 PM 6
W – 5, 10
Th – 15 - 4 by 2 miles with two minutes rest in Hains Point. Measured it out with my car. For a solo effort, 10:43 average was not bad. Got out a bit too hard in the first two reps.
F – 6, 5
S – 13
S -22
Total 108

Nov. 2 - 15
M - 10
T - AM 6 PM 4
W - AM 2, strain
Th - rest
F - 8.5
S - 8.5
S - 17
Total - 56

M - 9
T - 8
W - 9 - 3 by 1 mile with 400 jog - 4:58, 4:59, 4:58
Th - 8
F - 8
S - 7, strides
S - 14
Total - 63

Oct. 5 - 18

Monday - AM 10 PM 5
Tuesday - AM 12
Wednesday AM 12 with 8 times 2 minutes at 5k effort, 2 minutes rest Later AM Got a tooth pulled
Thursday AM 12 PM 6
Friday AM 12 PM 5
Saturday AM 12, strides
Sunday AM 4 WU, Lower Potomac River 10-Miler (53:51, 2nd), 4 CD - 18
Total - 104

LPR 10-Miler:
I found out about this race in Piney Point, Md. while writing an article about the Southern Maryland running scene. Two things were of interest: Flat course, cash for top three. Also, the race worked into my training schedule, and I was interested in traveling to Piney Point, one of the most southernmost points of Southern Maryland. The race was at 7:45 a.m., and I left D.C. at 5, although it only took me only 70 minutes to get there. (Here's the deal: When Google mapping something in D.C., take the estimated time and round it up to an hour. When traveling south out of the district, take the time and chop off 30-45 minutes.)

In its first year, 19-year-old Ethiopian Ezkyas Sisay had won this race (sponsored by Chesapeake Bay Running Club) in 54:27. The day before, Sisay had raced the Baltimore Half Marathon. Perhaps, then, he only ran fast enough to get the money, as second place was about 2 minutes back.

The race director had told me Sisay was returning, but I did not see him. I did see Steven Crane, one of the best runners in D.C., who I have run with in the past. Before the start, we talked a bit about pacing and Steve said he wanted to run 5:15-20 pace. I had run that pace at the Philadelphia Distance Run; that pace could work, I said, if my body was not too tired from a week of regular mileage.

Quickly, we were alone, stride for stride, with a cyclist leading the way. I felt smooth, controlled, like we were right on pace. At the mile, though, I saw we were just over 5 minutes -- and I seemed to have two options: Slow down. Race.

I chose to race. Heck, I was already there. I did not look at my watch until mile 5, passed in 26:05, and I was with Crane (who has run sub 50 and 1:05.02 in the half marathon) until 6, when he started to pull away and I started to labor. There was a magnificent view of the bay, except I did not seem to be taking much notice. Miles six to 8, in fact, were pretty bad; I was in over my head. But I gathered myself at 8, as we turned back onto Lighthouse Road, out of the wind, and headed back to the finish, near Piney Point Lighthouse. (It really was a beautiful setting for a race; it would nice to get a good field for this some year.) I atleast ran under 11 minutes for my last two miles, and thus under 54 minutes.

In one sense, it's not the way you want to race. In another, I ran low 32s for 10K, a PR, and stuff like this, mixed with decent volume, bodes well for Nov. 22. I am absorbing 100-plus mileage very well right now.

Monday AM 10 PM 5
Tuesday AM 12

Wednesday AM 5 PM 11 - For the afternoon workout, Jake, Jake, Karl and I met at BCC for Yasso 800s, a marathon workout which they were nice enough to go along with. This workout was developed by Bart Yasso of Runnersworld Magazine. I remember him quite fondly from my days as an editorial intern there; we did some lunchtime runs together, in fact. The weather was pretty crappy: cold, rainy and cold. We started minutes after the end of a soccer game, so we at least had lights for our first two of 8 reps. The idea here is quite simple: 8-10 800s with a 400 jog for rest. Your average time, then, is supposed to be what you can run in the marathon. I was looking to hit 2:25-2:28 and, with the help of my teammates, I was able to average 2:25. It was a true team effort, as it can be quite hard to guage pace in the dark, but we really worked together.

Thursday AM 7 PM 10
Friday AM 13

Saturday AM 14
It was my five-year reunion at Gettysburg College. Rather than spend a weekend there and drink too much and sleep on a floor at at time when I might be in the best shape of my life, I drove up Saturday morning to compete in the Gettysburg Invitational and then had a great time catching up with people the rest of the day.

Saturday, as it happens, was the peak of a streak of terrible weather that lasted from Wednesday until today. The race was at 11, and I left D.C. at 8, knowing it never took me more than 90 minutes to get there.

I should have alloted more time. For one, the WTOP traffic reporter was pretty busy. And, and, as I crossed the 14th Street Bridge and hooked onto the GW Parkway, I found out that it was blocked off where the road splits, so I had to turn around in Rosslyn. The rain was coming down hard. It was difficult to see. Traffic was moving slow. I knew it was not looking good. I was running late. And for what? To race in a cold mudbath! WTOP reporters, generally, encouraged doing everything except leave your house.

I did not park until 10:30, rushed to the locker room to change and hurried to the starting area. I got in but a mile's worth of warmup, changed into my XC spikes, kept on a long sleeve shirt beneath my singlet, did a couple strides (after which my spikes were completely full of cold water) and tucked in at the back of Gettysburg's starting box.

Assistant Coach Aubrey Shenk, the starter, traditionally says something I love before firing off the gun. Gentlemen, it's a beautiful day to enjoy your sport. A lot of times, when he would say this, it was not always a beautiful day to enjoy the sport. Still, it was a beautiful sentence.

Coach Shenk did not utter it this year.

The gun went off and 300-plus runners charged out across a field with about two inches of standing, cold water. I was never very good at XC (too much of a rhythm runner) and now I was rusty -- stuck behind a clump of guys I could not exactly forcefully move. Around 2K, it started to clear up, and I started to move though the pack. I must have moved up 50 spots in the next 4K -- and I was not paying any attention to splits, as times were meaningless. By 6K, though, I was no longer passing -- only maintaining -- as we trudged on through water and mud and water and mud. Man, it was cold. True XC.

Honestly, I kind of liked it. I had fun. I got a great workout. There was no pressure: I know I am in shape. I know 8K XC is not my scene right now. I finished 55th in 28:05. That's marathon pace.

Gettysburg Men finished 3rd out of 25 teams, and the women were 4th. I would have been 8th man on the team on Saturday -- and thus not top 7 -- and that makes me feel good. The team is one of the best we have had in a long time. These guys work really hard -- but more on that some other time.

Sunday - 18
Total 103