I used to go to this woman in the city to get my haircut. She had been taking care of my wife’s hair for a while and I hadn’t had any luck with the local suburban stylists (yes, I know, I just said I go to a stylist.). She was (is!) really good. She even went on to open her own salon with both my wife and I following. However, even with the carry-over-customer pricing, she was still on the expensive side. It just didn’t make a whole lot of sense for me to drag myself into the city AND pay for parking if I could find someone local. Finally, after asking a local mom whose husband’s hair I thought looked pretty good, I found my guy. I’ve been going to The Barber ever since.
What the frak does The Barber have to do with running?
Well, it turns out that he used to run. Not only did he used to run, but he ran during what some might call the Golden Age of Running here in Boston and the US as a whole. The 1970’s and 80’s. He was fast. Not “Oh, your in the top 5%” fast, no, he was FAST!!! He has run Boston more times than I can count or hope to run, with his best finish being a blazing 2:28:00! Just to put that in perspective, that would have placed him 39th in last year’s Boston Marathon.
-Well shoot! I finished 39th a couple of weeks ago in a 10K.
-Yeah, I’m sorry Luau, he would have been 39th out of close to 29,000 runners.
39th in an age when runners have better training, better technology, better diets. He still would have finished 39th. That’s nearly in the top 1/1000th of runners. He ran and trained with the best, including the Legend, Bill Rogers.
Every time I get my haircut I get a new story, whether it’s how he loved to break competitors on the hills, how one day he beat Boston Billy in a marathon (kind of), just how much smaller running used to be (when he showed up at a marathon he pretty much knew where everybody was going to place) or how he had a friend who used “grass” as a PED before going out on 30 mile long runs.
It has made me realize that running is a sport that is rich with history…history that we can’t necessarily find in the history books. The Barber was a second tier runner, one of the best locally, but not one to make it into the best sellers or record books. Yet his stories are in some ways just as compelling and interesting as Beardsly’s and Salazar’s Duel in the Sun or Kara’s and Hall’s attempt last year to bring the Boston crown back to the US.
I am thankful that I found The Barber. Thankful that I get to hear the unwritten local stories. It makes me realize that I am not only part of a wonderful running community in the here and now, but I am also connected to all those great runners that came before you and me.
If you are under the age of 50 or just recently took up running (like in the last 10 years), I highly recommend finding your local old-time runner and listening to his or her stories from that different time. Running has changed dramatically in 40 years. The stories from that era are fascinating. I feel lucky to have heard just a few from the Barber.
The nice thing about running is that you can take it almost anywhere. All you need are some shorts, a shirt (sometimes) and some shoes (if you run with them). Okay, if you’re a woman you may need a sports bra too, but I digress. You can run in the sun, the rain or even through snow, and if the weather is simply unbearable you can hit the treadmill or do what the great Emil Zàtopek used to do. He would fill his tub with blankets and run in place for hours. The point is no matter where you are, if you have the time and are physically able, there is very little excuse for not running.
This past week my family and I spent our children’s school vacation on the island of Captiva, Florida. The weather did not exactly cooperate. The historical temperature for this past week has been in the mid-70’s. The past 7 days saw a high of 67° and averaged much closer 62°. Not exactly your “lounge by the pool/let’s jump in the ocean” type of weather. However, it was perfect for running.
Lucky for me, I am a runner! One of the things I love most about running is that you never have to take the same route twice if you don’t want to. From day one of our vacation, I looked forward to being able to explore the island of Captiva. I figured that over the course of a week, I would get to check out quite a bit of the island. The last time we were here (close to 3 years ago) I went out for a jog (I was not a runner then) and barely got out of the complex we were staying in. The resort is about 1.8 miles from end to end and that was about what I could run at the time. 3.6 and I was done. It was not the distance that made me a jogger, rather the frequency with which I ran (which was once in a while at best).
This time around I arrived as a runner. The idea of running 8, 10, 12 miles was not out of the question. Nor was running 4 or 5 of the 6 days we were there. I was going to explore every nook and cranny of Captiva. I was going to take every side street and loop and see everything there was to see. There was only one problem: after my first run of 8 miles, I had essentially seen the whole island outside of the resort. In fact, that particular run even took me to the neighboring island of Sanibel. The 10 miles the next day covered everything I had missed. Part of the issue is that the island is only a few hundred feet wide in some spots and not much wider in others. There is essentially one road that runs north and south with few side streets open to the public.
Despite that, it is a beautiful place to run and reminded me that running is not always about “per mile splits” and training. Sometimes running should just be about exploring and observing your world. Running up and down that 6 mile strip over the course of the week, I noticed different things with every run.
One day it was some of the over the top houses,
Is there enough room for your whole family dude? The owner's son built the same house 1/4 mile down the road
another day it was the beautiful surf
Notice nobody was in the ocean? It was a cool 62ºF.
and yet another I got to see some majestic ospreys putting together a nest.
I guess my point is that when training for a marathon, half, 10k or what have you, it is easy to get lost in the numbers. Yes, you want to strive to hit the marks in your training to achieve your goal, and don’t get me wrong, I derive great pleasure from those training runs and hitting those marks. But it has been a joy this past week just running for the sake of running.
Feeling the ground, slicing the wind, seeing the sights.
I was in the last few miles of a hard 8 mile run a couple of days ago when I felt my pace slipping and my form failing. I had just fought through a mile of heavy headwind, followed by a protected stretch, but I was now entering a spot where the wind was going to be the strongest. I had been clipping along at about a 6:50 pace and I was tired. As I came around the turn, the wind hit me like a right cross from a heavyweight boxer.
Oh, man! I thought, this is not good.
I tried leaning into the wind. I was not going to let this wind kill my run.
It wasn’t working.
I could feel myself slowing down. The harder I tried, the sloppier I got.
C’mon! I yelled out loud. No Fear, Dammit!!!
It was all coming apart when I remembered something I had read in Chi Running. I don’t have the book with me so I can’t give you the exact quote or even the context in which I read it, however, I can tell you that I remembered something about leading with your stomach. Let you abs lead your body and your legs will follow. Something like that, anyway.
So I changed my focus. I stopped thinking about my form, I stopped thinking about my legs, I stopped thinking about my burning lungs. Instead I began to focus on my abs. I don’t want to say that I tightened my abs, but by focusing on them I felt like I was engaging them. As soon as I did that, the movement of my legs became effortless – literally. I’m not exaggerating. For about a half a mile, by focusing on my abs, I was able to run without physical effort. What’s more, my pace picked back up. After running the first half of mile 7 in 3:50, I came back with a 3:30 second half. I was only able to do this for a little over a half mile. Physically I felt great, but mentally I just could not keep the focus going. That half mile break from physical effort however allowed me to find my reserves. I closed the run with a 6:38 final mile.
So the task over the next few months is to train myself mentally as well as physically. If I can learn to stay mentally focused for three hours, Boston should be easily achieved. Of course, I had a hard enough time doing it for 3 1/2 minutes, but hey! what’s another 176 1/2 minutes, right?
Along the right side of this blog’s homepage is a list of my long-term running goals. They used to read as follows:
5K – 20:00 (PR – N/A)
10K – 43:00 (PR – 46:58)
1/2 Marathon – 1:35 (PR -1:40:47)
Full Marathon – 3:20 (PR – 3:54:04)
Within days of starting this blog I quickly knocked down the 1/2 marathon goal with a run of 1:33:14. It was somewhat of a breakthrough race for me. I had managed to take over 7 minutes of my previous best and it was the first time I had made it to the first page of a race’s results. Even with that race however, I figured that 43 was still a pretty good goal for a 10K. Last week I shattered that expectation with a run of 39:29 and in the process beat my long-term goal for the 5k with splits of 19:55 and 19:34.
So I need to redefine my long-term goals for the 5K and 10K. Fine. 19:00 and 38:00. Done. I think 19:00 is achievable, not sure about the 38:00, but what the heck, they’re long term goals, right?
But what about the half and full marathons? That’s a little trickier. When I ran the 1:33 half, I changed my long term goal to 1:30. It’s a leap, but not one that is too dramatic. It would still require me to take over 15 seconds off of my per mile pace. The full? Well, I crashed and burned in my first and only marathon, freezing up at mile 20 but still managing to finish. 3:20 still feels like a fantasy. When I got home from the Super Sunday 10k, I used to my time to find out what my vdot (performance based VO2 Max) was and how that translated into a 1/2 and a full.
1:27 and 3:02.
Really?
Are you frakkin’ nuts?
Yet there it was. Staring at me. Daring me. Taunting me.
1:27 and 3:02.
So, what do I do?
What. To. Do?
My goal all along has been to qualify for Boston. That remains in place and quite honestly, until I do that, I don’t think an even faster marathon has any place on my long term goals. If I finally qualify this year, then maybe I shoot for 3:00 marathon someday.
I will, however, put the 1:27 in for the half. It is somewhat out of reach I think, but I’m going to put it out there. Who knows? Maybe I’ve run as fast as I ever will, but I think it’s worth a shot.
By setting our goals slightly out of reach, we are forced to stretch ourselves beyond our comfort zone, beyond what we know we can do. It is in that uncomfortable area that we discover more about ourselves and quite possibly arrive at a moment of redefinition.
*I’d be curious how you go about setting your running goals.
It started on Wednesday. I was a little nervous about the upcoming race. Energy was starting to build up. I wasn’t sure what to do. I sat down at the computer and started to make a playlist. There are people who love the music when they run and those that love the silence. I like both, but for this particular race I wanted music. I had just seen a clip from one of the Prefontaine movies with Joe Walsh’s County Fair playing (see below). It was inspirational. So I built the list. I checked the time. 43 minutes.
That was my goal. Under 43 minutes. If I took any longer the music was going to stop. On Friday I started to listen to the playlist as I drove about town running my errands. As I would hit certain songs, I would visualize where I would be on the course. Years ago, when I was teaching at a small ski academy up north, we were privileged to have a visit from then big ski star Picabo Street. She talked to our kids about preparation before a ski run and part of that preparation was visualizing the run itself. I always thought that was a little hokey, but starting Friday and up until Sunday morning as I drove to the race, I kept visualizing where I would be and how my body would react at certain points. I kept saying to myself, “don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid”. Eventually that mantra morphed into “No Fear.” As I drove to the race site I kept saying it over and over again, “No Fear, No Fear…” I tried to channel my inner Prefontaine.
It was cold, but after going through the normal warm up routine I decided to strip off the pants and go with shorts and one layer on top, a long sleeved shirt. I slipped on the VFF Treks, pulled down the skull-cap and slipped my mp3 sunglasses on. As we waited for the starting gun I kept repeating my mantra, trying to ignore the cold. The starter started the countdown…
No Fear
ready…
No Fear – I pressed start on the Runkeeper App
set…
No Fear – I slipped my glove back on as the music started.
GO!!!
And we were off. The beginning of County Fair is very slow. The first two and a half minutes are not what you would typically call running music. However, it then kicks into a groove that, when combined with the memory of the clip of Prefontaine, gets you going. I started fast but when the groove hit, I heard myself say, “No Fear” and I stuck it in overdrive. I had tried to start as close to the front as I felt I could without being out of place. For the first 1/2 mile I weaved in and out of traffic. I took every hole I could find, occasionally slowing down to then zip past a dead end of bodies.
Making a move
When Runkeeper told me I had run a half mile, I took a quick glance at my watch.
3:20
6:40 pace. Okay! I did a self check. Everything functioning normal. The pace was a touch faster than I planned but I was feeling good.
No Fear
At the mile marker my watch read 6:36. I was speeding up! It was early, but I was picking off groups of people at a time. As I hit the first turnaround at about a mile and a half, I cut hard and turned it up a bit. Mile 2 read 6:16.
No Fear
Finishing the loop I saw that I was way ahead of where I had planned to be at 3.1 miles. My plan had been to run about 21 – 22 minutes for the first loop. As I went back onto the course my watch read 19:55, mile 3 had been a 6:20. I hadn’t known I could run that fast, especially with another 3.1 to go. For a moment there doubt crept in. What am I doing? I can’t run this fast twice. I’ve never been here. I started doing some quick math in my head. If I could just run a 23 on the second loop I’d still come in around my goal.
I repeated my mantra.
No Fear
Mile 4 arrived quickly. 6:18. At this point I said to myself, “it’s only 2 miles”. At about 4 1/2 miles we hit the turn to head back to the start. About 50 yards ahead of me was some young kid, and 50 yards ahead of him was a young woman. I quickly reeled him in, looked over and said, “Come on. Let’s go catch that girl. Help me reel her in.” He looked at me like I was crazy, but he followed.
About 100 feet from the 5 mile marker we caught her. I eased just a little as the guy took off. After a moment, I looked at her and said, “Come on Let’s go catch that guy. Let’s reel him in.” We passed the 5 mile marker and she said, “I just PR’d for 8k!” I looked at my watch. Mile 5 – 6:23, 31:55 so far. “Me too,” I said, “Let’s get him!” We pushed on, caught him and passed him. Mile 6 arrived in 6:22. I was still flying, but now I was in the closing stretch. Less than a quarter mile to go and I knew I was within the realm of a sub 40. I went into an all out sprint.
No Fear
Roger Daltrey was screaming in my ears. I covered the last 0.2 miles in a 5:55 pace finishing the race in 39:29, 7 1/2 minutes better than last year and 3 1/2 minutes faster than my stated goal.
My final results were 6.2 miles in 39:29 with a 19:55 first half and a 19:34 second half. I finished 39th overall out of 791 finishers and 4th out of 60 for my age division. I missed placing in my age division by 2 seconds! Not bad for a guy who just started running a little over a year ago.
I like to think that I learn something from every race. This race taught me that visualization can be a real part of training. I plan on trying it in other parts of my life as well, whether it’s parenting or housekeeping (I think the wife would be down with that part!). I also learned that we are stronger when we run together. Johnny and the young lady helped me push myself harder than I would have had I been alone on that stretch. For that I am thankful. I think that is something that I can take into other aspects of my life as well. I actually found Johnny afterward in the chowder tent and thanked him for pushing me along. He turned it right around and did the same.
I am still processing the race. Trying to figure out how this affects my long term goal. According to some websites, a 39:29 10k translates into a 3:02 marathon. Um, yeah, I’m not so sure about that. That being said though, I may have to rethink the training paces over the next several months. I’ve stepped up a level in my running, and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to step back.
Boston? I have you in my sights!
Below is the Prefontaine movie clip that inspired the playlist and the mantra:
I haven’t run a lot of races. Since hanging up the cleats in high school, I’ve run 4 races (a 10K, 2 half marathons and one full), and those 4 have been in the last 12 months. The funny thing is that I haven’t had too many jitters going into these races. I knew I wasn’t an elite runner and quite honestly, aside from the marathon, I didn’t really know what I wanted to accomplish in the races.
But this Sunday I will be running the Super Sunday 10K for the second time. It is my first repeat race.
And I am nervous.
Why? It is a race I am familiar with. It is a race I know I can finish. I ran the race last year in a respectable 46:58. It was my first race as an adult, but I am more nervous about it this year than last.
Shouldn’t it be the other way around? In life, when we repeat things, aren’t they supposed to become easier? For the past few years as our elementary school’s PTO President I had to speak to groups of parents both large and small regularly. The first couple of times were nerve-wracking, although that might have something more to do with the fact that the chair I was sitting in before my first speech ripped a dollar size hole in the back of my pants – I had to back my way onto the stage, but that’s another story for another blog. It very quickly became easy, almost second nature speaking to them, no matter how controversial the topic might be.
So why am I nervous? It’s not like I’m not competing for a medal or a prize.
I am nervous because I am competing against myself. I set a standard last year that I hope to improve upon and that scares me a little. What if I don’t beat my time? What if I pull a hamstring and can’t finish? What would that say about all of the running I have done over the past 12 months?
A year ago I was happy just to finish, in part because 6 months earlier I would have laughed at the idea at finishing a 10K in under an hour. A year later, things have changed. I am more competitive – with myself.
So lately I have been going back and forth between my VFF Treks and my old Brooks Defyance. It’s due to a combination of things: the weather, the cold, the long treadmill runs. I used to hate putting on my “regular” running shoes because, well, I hated them. They’re heavy and I can’t feel anything with my feet when I run in them. Lately though, I’ve noticed something. I actually feel ok when I run in them. I’m not doing anything exotic (intervals, fartleks, etc.) with them, just long slow distances on the treadmill or my shorter, typical runs outside if the snow is fresh and deep or wet and slushy.
Last November, while I was running my local half-marathon, my buddy Mike (he seems to be popping up every where in this blog) was volunteering. He had planned to run it but had injured himself a few weeks earlier during a 5K. He said to me after the race that he noticed that my gait was different from when we had first run together 10 months earlier. It really didn’t register with me, except for the fact that I was running in my VFF KSOs.
But this past month has me wondering. I did more running in my traditional running shoes in January than I had since June of last year when I started running almost exclusively in VFFs. It used to be that if I put in a certain number of miles in regular shoes, my right knee would start screaming for a break. Consequently, I would have to take a week off from running and I would turn into a grumpy old man. But this last month has been different. When I went back to do the math I was shocked to find that I had run well over 100 miles in January in my Brooks.
Yet, the knee is peachy.
Why?
Did the VFF’s improve my form or did time? I remember reading early on in my rediscovery of running that you can very often tell the difference between a beginner and an experienced runner by the length of their stride. The longer you run, the shorter you stride becomes because your body learns how to be more efficient. The shorter stride means a quicker turnover and a lesser likelihood of your limbs flailing and wasting energy. My stride is definitely shorter than it was in November of 2008.
I also read when I first discovered Vibram Five Finger shoes that running barefoot or with a minimal shoe like the VFF forces your body back to the way we are designed to run (not on our heels), which in turn, shortens your stride. In the VFFs you tend to land more on the flat or balls of your feet. Has running in the VFFs for the last 7 month altered my natural footstrike so I can run that way in any shoe? I may have to take a trip to visit my buddy Pete’s lab to find out.
In the meantime, I ponder: was it the shoes or time that has made me a better, more efficient runner. The shoes or time that improved my form and now allows me to run pain free.
As has always been my way, I will take the middle path and say that it is probably the result of both.
It’s February 1st. One month has passed since the new year.
Still sticking with it? Still strapping on the shoes and pounding out a few miles?
I hope so.
A few weeks a ago I was reading a variety of posts both lamenting and praising the “resolution runners” that were pouring into the gyms and onto the streets.
As runners we curse them for clogging up the treadmills and sidewalks, but at the same time hope that many of them will take running on as a regular part of their lives. Runners know that part of the solution to our problems with the Health Care System is running. A healthy nation puts less strain on the system.
Runners, as a whole, are a healthier bunch that tends to avoid many of the diseases associated with being a “bag o’ potato chips eating couch potato”. I know that most of my dailymile friends are still running. It’s what we do. We let each know what we’ve done and push each other with support and challenges.
But I wonder, are you still running?
or biking?
or swimming?
I hope that you are fighting through the powerful inertia that is your couch or bed. That you continue to fight to get to the point where if you haven’t run by the end of the day, you feel a little edgy. It is a wonderful feeling, knowing that you’re legs want to run. Scratch that. Need to run. It will get easier. The change, both physically, but more importantly mentally, is coming.
It’s only been 31 days.
Persist.
***IF you have lost momentum, so what? Today is the 1st day of a new month.
It’s not the 16.7 miles that has me writing this post. It is what the run meant, to me anyway.
I have a friend Mike. I have known him since our college days. I owe him. He took me in after I graduated from college. At the time I had no idea what I was doing with myself. He was attending his sophomore summer and had a room in our fraternity all to himself. Or so he thought. When I arrived at his door a few weeks into the term, he very happily put me up on his couch for the rest of the summer. I stayed, rent free, for nearly two months. He never complained – not once. Over that summer, Mike became one of my dearest friends.
Years later, unbeknownst to me, Mike came dangerously close to losing a battle with a liver condition. With the help of a team of doctors here in Boston, he fought back, got healthy and is now looking to pay it forward by running with the American Liver Foundation’s Run For Research Team in this year’s Boston Marathon. This will be his first marathon.
What does this have to do with me? What does this have to with 16.7 miles?
The Boston Marathon has been a dream of mine for a little over a year now. The idea of running the same race the Kelly’s, Katherine Switzer, Bill Rodgers, Joan Benoit, and Alberto Salazar all ran is something that I find absolutely exhilarating, but as many of you know, one cannot just sign up for Boston. One must either run for a charity team like my good friend Mike or qualify for the race by running another marathon within a certain amount of time. I have nothing against charities. In fact, as a family we have worked very hard to raise funds for both big (Autism Speaks, St. Jude’s) and little (the Autism Alliance of Metrowest, Playground funds, Pre-School Programs) organizations. But very early on, I decided that I wanted to run Boston because I had qualified. It will require my running a 3:20:59 or better marathon. I am not there yet, but I hope to within the next year or two. I digress.
Mike has chosen a different, and in some ways more admirable and selfless path. His desire to run Boston has put him in a position to help those who helped him.
Mike signed up to run and has been fairly successful in raising funds for his team. However, he was having some difficulty with the long runs. When he first started his training, he very happily drove down to where the team was meeting every Saturday with the hopes of spending the next 2 hours or so chatting with other runners. What he found though is that many of them would plug-in their ear buds and zone out for the bulk of the run. I can relate to that. I do it quite frequently when I am running my long runs…alone. Having limited experience at running for long distances, Mike feared that he would struggle to stay focused on his own. He doesn’t run with music so I can totally understand why he would be think that.
So when he emailed me a week or so ago and asked if I wanted to join him for a scheduled 14.5 miler, I said I was game. I hadn’t run more than 13.1 since November, but “what the heck”, it would be nice to get a truly long run in. We had a great time chatting for two and a half hours. We even went an extra couple of miles, finishing the day at 16.7. It was the most pleasant long run I have had to date. No hurries, just running with a friend, chatting pretty much non-stop for the entire run.
At the end of the run (it was both the longest time – 2:35:00 – and distance he had ever covered) he looked at me and thanked me, saying that he didn’t think he would have made it to the end without the company. I frowned. It may have been more of a struggle had he been on his own, but I told him he would have finished just fine. He thanked me nonetheless.
My point is this: we may not have the time nor the inclination to dedicate ourselves full-time towards a particular charity or what have you, but during these unsure times, the very least we can do is help those who are helping others. Did I accomplish a huge feat in running those 16.7 miles? Did I “make the difference” in how Mike has raised money for the liver team? No, absolutely not. My contribution to his run was three hours out of my weekend.
A few days ago I was out for a run when I caught a glimpse of myself in a storefront window. I was still in the warm up miles of my run and it showed. I looked tense – shoulders scrunched up, arms tight and stiff. I thought to myself, “relax!”. It wasn’t happening. I passed another storefront window and stole a glance. I looked even worse. As I continued along I took a deep breath and then another. I took myself back to my kung-fu days. I could hear Sifu Steve going through the meditation process with us at the beginning of class:
Control your breathing.
Check.
In through the nose, out through the mouth.
Got it.
Find a focal point to concentrate on, but stay aware of everything in the room.
It was kinda working. I could feel my shoulders lower, my arms loosen up.
Now close your eyes and listen…
I started to close my eyes.
Whoa! Not while you’re running, you idiot!
Now close your eyes and listen…
I looked around. Long straight away, no traffic, no other runners, a full 3/4 of a block to the next intersection. I let my eyelids fall and ran about 10 paces.
Listen to your breathing.
Almost instantly my entire body relaxed. I opened my eyes and found myself both at ease and fully alert. Over the next 4 or 5 miles I found myself in an almost meditative state – relaxed yet aware – flying (that’s what it felt like) along at a much faster pace than I had intended when I went out. My mind was practically empty, almost zen-like, as I floated through the streets of my town. Obviously I had to stay aware of traffic, but for the most part, I was able to listen solely to my footfalls and breathing, intertwined in their rhythm. Inevitably I came to an intersection where I had to stop and the spell was broken.
I’m hoping I can find a way to replicate this experience the next time I run.
I’m thinking that I may try to expand this running with my eyes closed thing beyond just running. Taking a moment to reduce the data input, listen to my breathing and footsteps and then refocus. Probably not a good idea to try it while driving a vehicle, but maybe during high stress moments in the day.
Close the eyes, control the breathing, relax the shoulders. Open the eyes and fly.
If you want to start your own #CharityStreak pick up the Charity Miles app and start raising money for your favorite charity simply by walking, running or biking:Get the Charity Miles app:
Run Luau Run 