20 Things To Make Your Running Better Right Now!

There are times as runner we may reach a plateau or place of indifference in our running--or at least some of our fresh motivation might wane. I've struggled with that myself off and on over the past training season, I thought about ideas to share to help you refresh, renew.. and run better.. right now!

1. Run with someone a little slower. Make a personal connection with someone who was where you once were. You just might make a difference in your life in sharing some of your successes and how you got there. Besides, running is the coolest hobby on the planet, right? Share it. You just might learn something too.

2. Take Vitamin D. Lately it seems every other health article I read debunks taking vitamin supplements. But yet every one of them seem to conclude that if there is one vitamin worth taking (and I wrote about it a few months ago), it's Vitamin D.

3. Run with someone a little faster. Rather obvious, but don't discount a little pushing of yourself with a slightly faster runner once in a while. I owe several of my running pals for dragging me a bit faster than I wanted to go. Just enough that I could. And I became a better, stronger runner as a result.

4. Record your runs. If you don't write down a little bit about each run, it's hard to know your progress and make decisions about your training. Not every run will be great, and not every run will feel terrible. Write down anything significant: where you ran, the terrain, who you ran with, any important diet changes, time of day, energy level, weather. If you have a lousy run or streak of lousy runs, go back 21 days and read what you've been doing. If you've been pushing too hard, it may be why you are out of energy. If you had a sore throat last week, your body might be fighting something. Most of your "why me" running questions can be answered in your 21-day look-back.

5. Encourage an injured runner. Very few of us have risen to our current running status without a few hard bumps along the way. Injuries, sickness, some preventable, some not, are all part of growing up as a runner. If you know a faithful runner who is injured, they could probably use a boost. Offer to go for a bike ride or coffee or lunch. There's really nothing worse than not being able to run if you are a runner. (See #20.)

6. Fuel your runs. Eat a healthy breakfast with some carbs and some protein. I've been running a few years, and I still sometimes slip out for a run without eating. I just forget to eat, and then at the last minute I'm almost out of time, and so I head out anyway. More often than not, I end up bonking and having a crappy run. Have something quick on hand, but a bagel with peanut butter, or instant oatmeal with some fruit are good, quick choices. If you're struggling with a few extra pounds, pick up Eat This and Not That for some simple swap outs to help you eat better on the run.

7. Read a good book about running. Find a highly motivating book about running. My all time favorite is Once A Runner by John L. Parker. If you've read it recently, give Bart Yasso's My Life On The Run, Christopher McDougall's Born to Run, or Dean Karnazes' 50/50: Secrets I learned Running 50 Marathons in 50 Days a try. Stimulating your mind about inspiring running stories can give you positive reflections while you run.

8. Race a new distance. My first "race" was a 5K, where I became absolutely hooked on running. But, to be fair, my first several 5Ks were taken in with the amazement I could actually run 3.1 miles without stopping and were all about completing the event and surviving the finish line--not dead last. Eventually, I worked my way up to the marathon, where I spend most of my training focus now. Last year, I took on the 5K with some aggressive (for me) goals to actually race this distance as hard as I could and train for it specifically. It broke up my training, made running fiercely interesting again (the training is so different) and ultimately made me a better marathoner.

9. Run at a different time. Always an early morning runner? Give a nice run at sunset a try. Watching the sun slip behind the trees and possibly even the moon rise and feel the heat of the day melt away can be a beautiful experience. Always running when you get home from work? Set out at dawn and watch the sun rise.

10. Skip the Garmin. As disciplined runners, we like to record and measure every step. How fast did I run that loop this time? But sometimes, it's better to just let go. The Garmin (or other training watch / footpod) can be a ruler with which you end up beating yourself. For your easy and recovery days, just go out there and run a familiar route and distance, but don't bring the Garmin. Don't even try to fool yourself that you'll only show elapsed distance, because later you will go and judge yourself on the pace. Remember what got you into running the first time. Enjoy the freedom a couple of times per week.

11. Lose the headphones. Amazing I'd come out with this one, as I am an avid iPod user for most of my training runs. I used to avoid races that didn't allow them. But now, you'd never catch me racing with an iPod, it disrupts my concentration and dilutes the racing and social experience. But every once in a while, go hit a trail in the early morning, or some other interesting route and just listen to the beauty of nature. Hear yourself breathe; your footfalls hit the ground; the birds singing; the breeze whispering. It can not only enrich your run, but enrich your life.

12. Striders. Not to be missed, striders are a great way to introduce some fast running into your training program. As noted in this article from Running Times, "By doing striders, you’ll tend to improve your running technique and posture at all speeds and may improve your running economy." Striders are 20 seconds or so of relaxed running at about 90% speed. Tack them onto the end of an easy run a couple of times per week.

13. Find a new trail. Trails abound in the U.S., and chances are, there's one within driving distance of you. During a recent visit to a Nature Conservatory near my home, I picked up a hiking trails book in the gift shop. I instantly discovered four brand new trails that I never knew existed within a 30 minute drive. I now frequent one of the loops. If you've already scouted out every trail nearby, expand your net. Put together a couple of your best running buds, and go for a longer drive some weekend or Holiday.

14. Run your easy days easy. This is a less obvious fact that I struggled with when I first became serious about running. This Running Tips site said it better than I could: "make your hard days as hard as possible and your easy days as easy as possible." The idea is that if your easy days are taking away from your hard days, you will merely run mediocre every day and not do the work necessary to become faster. It is the hard workouts that make you a faster runner, not the easy ones.

15. Sponsor a charity runner. Surely, one of your running buddies, co-workers, family members or friends will be running a race on behalf of a charity. This is a great opportunity to encourage another runner, and make you feel good about running in the process. Don't just write a check, be interactive. Ask about their training progress. Find out how they did when they finished. Share in their joy when you congratulate them for sticking to a goal, finishing it, and benefiting others in the process.

16. Run More. While this may not apply to everyone, if you are running more than forty percent of your weekly mileage in your long run, or if you are running less than forty miles per week, you could well benefit from running more miles. I am barraged on a daily basis with "run less, run faster" dogma, but as a general rule, if you want to be better at something, you do more of it (to a point of course). Running more miles can increase your fitness and efficiency and improve your form. Pete Pfitzinger covers this topic well, along with some tempered advice on how to safely increase your mileage. Greg McMillan writes about how increasing mileage strategically can help you by Fixing the [Late Marathon] Fade.

17. Volunteer at a local race. Face it--races wouldn't happen if it weren't for volunteers. What better way to stay motivated and get excited about running than handing water, sports drink, etc. out to hundreds if not thousands of runners in a local race? Fast or slow, it's inspiring to watch and help others. And bring your child with you--get them excited about running too.

18. Train Core. OK, I admit it. I'm a runner and I hate strength training. It's just a chore to me, and often find it hard to get motivated to do anything besides run. However, one area I never neglect is my core. I even have a secret sign [maybe some day I'll confess to what it says] printed above my ab bench to remind me how important core is. "The stronger your core, the more solid you are as you hit the ground," explains Jack Daniels, Ph.D., former exercise physiologist for the Nike Farm Team and now with Run SMART (where I train under Vince Sherry). "That reduces your need for unnecessary stabilization, and allows you to be a more economical runner." Check out the rest of this Runner's World article about core strengthening for runners.

19. Listen to your body. Last weekend, I had seven miles on my schedule but within two I found myself distracted, feeling lousy, stressed about finishing in time for my next appointment and generally having a really crappy run. I decided to end the run and go for seven the next day. I was rewarded the following day with one of the best runs I've had in a while--I felt great and celebrated the choice I'd made to listen. Know your body as a runner; trust it. Know the difference between when to push hard--and when to back off. Don't insist on finishing a terrible run just because you are a robot and it's on your schedule.

20. Give thanks that you can run. I saved this one for last because it's all too often we get so hung up on our goals, that we simply forget what a blessing it is to be able to get out there and run. Many of us run because we overcame something else. There's quite possibly a good reason you are a runner, because if you weren't, you'd be something else. Something less. For me, running gave me a new, healthy life I never expected. There was a time when I couldn't read a bed time story to my kids from a chair without being out of breath. And in the past twelve months, I qualified for and completed the Boston Marathon. So, if your running isn't perfect, and you feel like you are in a rut, wondering why you are doing this day after day--stop for a minute. Rejoice that you can run.

114th Boston Marathon Race Report

When I crossed the finish line of my first marathon in March 2007, I began to dream of someday qualifying for Boston. Nearly three years and many obstacles later, I arrived in Boston as a qualified marathoner for the 114th running of the Boston Marathon.

I endured three days of miserable, dreary, windy, cold rain. I thought it would never end. My hotel room did not have a window, and the last sight I had the night before Marathon Monday was more rain. I couldn't imagine Boston had any other weather, and expected it to be gloomy and raining again in the morning.

But I woke exactly one minute before my alarm, arousing from a dream that I was looking at the downtown Boston skyline with the bluest of skies. I checked the weather online; my prescient dream had come true: it would be bright and sunny at the start. I slathered on sunscreen well before 6 AM. Odd that I have to be up so early for a 10:30 AM race start.

Packing a few snacks and hand warmers tucked in my gloves, I arrived in Boston Common, to begin the trek to the starting line. Conveniently, Patriots' Day is a school holiday in Boston, availing the B.A.A. the use of 500 school busses for this important shuttling of all of the athletes to the start in Hopkinton. Shortly after 6:30 AM, I'd boarded a bus and became part of a magnificent, slow caravan of buses filled with marathon stories of past and present. I looked down at cars, and they looked up at us. They knew why we were there. My anticipation began to build.

I stepped off the bus in Athletes Village at precisely 8:30 AM. I found my way to a large tent providing some cover from the bitter cold. It was evident this was a race favoring the wisdom of past Boston participants. The experienced (or at least well-advised) runners were sitting comfortably on plastic blankets, sleeping bags and blow up pool rafts. I huddled up on the cold wet ground, snacked on a bagel and chips and shivered bitterly.

It was announced there would be an F-15 flyover at 9:50 AM, 10 minutes before the Wave 1 start scheduled for 10 AM. I was in the second corral.. err.. I was supposed to be in the second corral for Wave 2 at 10:30, but we'll get to that in a minute :-). We heard them first, and sure enough, two F-15s zoomed over and it was worth bracing myself outside the tent for even more intense shivering for the few minutes to see them roar by. They crossed the finish line in Boston in four minutes.

I delayed my departure from Athletes Village as long as I thought practical, as I was miserably cold. I didn't want to stand unprotected in the starting corral. So, at 10:05 AM, with a 0.7 mile walk, I joined the traffic flow and headed for the starting line. I consumed my first vanilla Hammergel along the way. Although we were not moving quickly, at first I was not too concerned until I started hearing the countdown to the starting gun. The four last corrals were to the left and mine was to be the second from the front… many corrals down and to the right. Before I'd barely turned the corner I heard 30 seconds to go. I would never make it, I wasn't even close. I quickly darted into the corral on my immediate left, missing the corral seeding that I had earned. I'd had this pre-race nightmare before, my second actual dream to come true for the day. But as I'd rationalized in my dreams past, this was chip timing, so the worst that would happen is I'd have to work my way through the slower runners.

We had run for what seemed like awhile before we finally crossed the start line, and immediately I was struck by how warm it was and I was thirsty. I tossed my gloves and peeled off my arm-warmers. It was well-published that there would be water and Gatorade at every mile and at the finish. I was on the far left of the queue, having weaved through many, many slower runners and waited for the first mile mark, eager for a cool sip. I was simply parched. The first mile came and went, a steep downhill for most of it, and then our first hill. No water. The second mile came and went, again, no water. I began to panic. Then, at last up and beyond, there was water! But, of course, it was on the far right. I began to work my way over, but unlike Chicago where the tables went on forever, these tables were short and by the time I'd gotten to the right, I was past the water station. Uh-oh. I was really, really thirsty. I didn't know what to do, but I figured I was an expert on running dry, so I'd tough it out and hang in there for another two miles. Then, up ahead, there was another table. Oh, if only I'd known somehow it was going to be on both sides! I weaved to the left again, and this time got a huge cup of Gatorade.

I crossed the first 5K, and saw that my Garmin was already way ahead of the mile markers in elapsed distance. I was paying the price in distance for so much weaving. This was my own fault; for missing the start and not knowing in advance about the placement of the water stations. I'll know better next time.

The miles were clicking by easily, and I felt very good. I'd missed most of my splits, and still don't know what they were, but I'd seen a few around the low 8s, which seemed comfy and fine. Since I didn't have a pace band or any particular goal in mind (except, seemingly, break 4 hours and maybe break 3:58 if things went really, really well), I didn't really know what the elapsed time and the mile marks meant. So, I pressed on happily. I planned to do only one thing today: My Best. Whatever that was. I knew I'd "feel" what that was, even if i couldn't define it. I would carefully spend everything I had, and I wouldn't quit.

I took the second gel around the 10K mark in Framingham. That would be my last gel. (I carried three more with me, but they were never to be touched.) I was feeling fantastic. Really, ridiculously good. It was freeing to not worry about my pace and just run what felt right.

At mile 12, I could hear the beginning of the girls of Wellesley College. They delivered as promised! I kept to the left, but soaked in the energy. Majors in kissing were boasted, shrieks abounded in good fun. I saw no evidence of actual marathon-runner kissing, but this section indeed was a highlight of the course.

My half way point time was 1:48:15 I have been told, and I was still feeling really, really good--excited that the first half was behind me, and getting concerned, knowing that in a little over three miles, Newton waited.

Just before mile 15 I felt my stomach churn and cramp. The lower not-so-good kind. I looked urgently for porta-potty, saw two and took a detour. I stopped, but there were already a couple of people standing there and the toilets were occupied. Why, I do not know, but I turned back to running and hoped to find some other porta-potty. Which didn't turn up very quickly, much to my disappointment. This was going to have to be addressed. Soon.

We then began the steep descent into Newton Falls, and for the first time my quads started to hurt and really feel the downhill. As I reach the very bottom, there were four porta-potties to the left and I had no choice. I stopped. And waited. It wasn't too long, they were in a hurry to get back to running, but this whole thing definitely cost me at least two to three minutes.

The door slammed behind me and I took off running the first hill of Newton. Actual bathroom emergency or convenient excuse to rest before the Newton Hills, you decide ;-). The hill begins on a bridge, and it was here the wind really picked up. I could hear it whistling over the river and over the bridge. The gust was so strong, I felt buffeted by it, and even though I'd taken care of business, I was never quite right from here on. I was slightly nauseated, my stomach cramped off and on and I was feeling my quads. I was concerned that the wind would be with us for the rest of the race. More or less it was, but not as bad as it was on that bridge.

The next stretch was hard for me as I kept expecting to see the Fire Station and make the sharp right turn and start up the second hill. It was a longer stretch with a few teaser inclines and I was fooled more than once about the start of the second hill. As a result, with two more major hills to go, this hill was mentally the hardest for me. I took it lightly up the hill, maintaining my foot turnover, but keeping my stride light and easy. I reminded myself not to charge the hills. Many people were walking or going too slow. I passed and was passed on the hills, but my pace was steady and the effort as even as I could make it.

When I had eight miles to go I told myself I could briskly walk it in and make it to the finish in roughly two hours. This was a tempting prospect. I considered it here, and then again at four miles to go.

The third and penultimate hill in Newton was unremarkable. I was waiting for the crown jewel. I hoped my stomach wasn't going to blow. It seemed to be hanging on ok, not great. I saw a few runners off to the side throwing up or stretching out a cramp. I was happy not to be among them and hoped to keep it that way. A real case of "There but for the grace of God go I..."

Mile 20 was demoralizing. My watch read 20.3 at this point and I knew I still had 10K and Heartbreak Hill to go. I wanted to stop. Really. But I knew that wouldn't be "My Best."

And then, there it was. I crossed over Read Street and Heartbreak Hill was waiting for me. A female news reporter about a 100 yards up the hill made a move towards me with her microphone and expectantly asked, "How's it feeling out there today?" What could I say? I lied, feigning more energy than I had, flashed a smile, "It's Awesome!" What would you have said? Somehow, that actually gave me a bit of energy. It was what I needed.

There is only one way to climb Heartbreak Hill… one light running step at a time. I used a little assist from the arms. Altogether, it's really not that bad of a hill. Its location is what makes it unfortunate. I've run steeper hills. I've run longer hills. This hill is cruelly located, seemingly crafted to make it appear and feel three times its actual size. At last, this was behind me and I had not walked one step. The descent into Boston College began and I was overjoyed. I slipped in behind a male runner with a black T-Shirt declaring, "Life Is Simple." I thought, yes, at this moment, life has boiled down to its simplest. Keep going. Don't give up. Do. Your. Best.

By now, though, my quads were done. I never thought I'd actually say this… but I begged for mercy: no more downhills--I pleaded in earnest. Flat was most preferable but up actually hurt less than down at this point. Before the race was over, I'd be granted plenty of all three.

I waited and waited to see the Citgo sign. It had to be coming up soon. Every little rise and fall, I thought it would peek out somewhere. Eventually, it did and I knew it really wasn't that much farther to go.

Somewhere around this point I heard my name shouted, "Alex, Alex!" And I turned and looked. I thought, "Are they calling for me? Or some other Alex?" At last I recognized my co-worker from the Boston Office, Mike, his wife and possibly one other person. I was slightly delirious so forgive me if I don't the third person nailed! What a treat that was!

There is a little hill around the 25 mile point. I was pleased to have it behind me. From the "Mile to go" sign, I began counting backwards from 100 and was sure to spend every penny I had left in my body. I was surprised how much I really had and I poured it out. I looked down at my watch for the first time since the half way point, and it read 3:40. I was shocked. I seriously had no idea this was the kind of pace I was on. I had kissed any hope of a decent time away back in Newton Falls.

The final half mile of the marathon came after a right and left turn, and I could see the finish line and the bleachers up ahead. I remember this finishing charge more than any marathon (or race) I've ever done. My emotions overwhelmed me, as many years of cumulative training and many obstacles overcome came down to this one moment. "You've [expletive deleted] done it. You've earned it, and you've done it." I surged to the finish line, and crossed both mats before I stopped and punched my watch. My chest swelled and I fought back tears. I've heard my final official finishing time was 3:46:34. I haven't looked online yet, but I will soon! I will also post pictures as soon as they are available.

Thanks so much to everyone who has encouraged me through this journey. And if you are reading this, and thinking about trying to qualify for Boston and run it--let me tell you two things: 1) Do it. 2) It's worth it!

Final Thoughts Before Boston

At last, after the adventures of campylobacter, which kept me from peaking; my eight-year-old daughter needing emergency surgery this past weekend, which kept me from topping off my last few runs and required 40+ hours of no sleep and a few pots of coffee; my mind turns to actually preparing for my trip to Boston (rather than crisis management). I enjoyed a perfect racing season for Chicago 2009, but this time, it's been anything but. In fact, I've quipped, "Anything else goes wrong, I won't actually BE at the starting line," in all seriousness.

But that being said, I'm ready to worry about trivial things, like, how do I get to the bus station and what will the weather be? Weather.com promises warmish sunshine, and accuweather.com promises strong winds throughout the race. I'm merely hoping they'll be out of the west!

The course makes me a bit nervous, with plenty of hills, up AND down:


Unlike other marathons, where I watched my mile splits on a Garmin like a hawk, this time around, I might not even wear it. With the hills and no idea what I'm capable of anymore, it will be impossible for me to do any meaningful pacing. Much like my training of the last month, I will simply run this race by feel. I was pretty sure I hit my marathon pace during my 10-miler yesterday. It felt good; steady; sure; right. I just have no idea what that pace was, but I remember how it felt and will seek it.

What does a Boston success look like for me? Well, surely a finisher's medal so that I can proudly wear (and earn) my Official 114th B.A.A. jacket.

The cut-off time is 4:45 PM. So, I have just a hair over six hours to complete the race. I'm in the second corral, wave 2 (starting at 10:30 AM), so a few minutes will pass before I cross over the starting line. If things are going reasonably well, I'd be very happy to break four hours. For reasons of my own, I'd really like to break 3:58, although based on the travails of the last month, that seems a bit stretchy. The stretchiest goal I could possibly imagine at this point is re-qualifying for Boston AT Boston, which requires for me a 3:50:59 (I ran a 3:38:22 in Chicago last year). Though, that seems unlikely.

Mostly, it's a reflection of what really matters. I've already qualified. This is about the ability to let go and enjoy. Although I am a highly driven and disciplined person; I cannot hold myself to a specific standard.

"Success is not measured by what you accomplish, but by the opposition you have encountered, and the courage with which you have maintained the struggle against overwhelming odds."
~Orison Swett Marden

Call of Nature Wreaks Havoc on Boston Plans

Today, I'm going to tell you the story of what I've been doing on my unplanned running hiatus and what that's going to mean to me for Boston. May I suggest this entry is not for the feint of heart. If you are disturbed by bodily fluids or the description of them, you might want to go check out someone else's cool running blog, like my two new favorites runwestchester or Law of Inertia where your time will be better spent. Tune in next week when I plan to begin my crawl back to running.

Saturday, 7 AM, I noted some abdominal pain before my run. But, I didn't worry about it too much, and I cranked out my 14 mile workout anyway. I suffered through more pain than I'd like to admit for the last two miles, but it was tolerable in a way that I wasn't going to quit. When I finished I got caught in the cold rain (38F) and wind, became unusually chilled and started shivering. I had to rush my son to the dentist, so didn't get a chance to do anything other than throw on dry clothes for a couple of hours.

When I got home and showered, I began to feel achy; my skin hurt to touch, and my temperature rang in at 102F. I spent the next 30 hours shivering, practicing 10m sprints to the bathroom to sit or kneel, depending on the prioritized urgency, and back down to the floor by the fire (the bed was at a dizzying height). My abdomen wrung itself painfully, and I decided an alien had somehow burrowed inside. I considered naming it. I did not sleep.

By Sunday evening, I was unceremoniously expelled from the house and driven to the ER. Within five minutes, I was a great patient, having puked, given an impromptu stool sample, checked in with a 102 fever and already given up more traditional urine and blood samples. Before too long, they gave me something in the i.v. to sedate the alien living within me, and as if hit with a tranquilizer dart--he stopped writhing before the injection was even finished. He slept for the next eight hours. Eventually, I was told I had the stomach virus that was going around, go home, drink fluids, sign here____, here____ and here____; there's the door.

I didn't sleep much, and within a couple of hours Mr. Alien woke up. As did the fever and all of the other fun involuntary expulsions of fluid. All night long. It was just a virus. I would eventually stop this and get better. But the pain increased its tremor. At last, I did what any strong willed runner and Jack Bauer fan would do. I curled up into a fetal position and screamed in agony. For five hours. My kids came up and shut my door.

Five hours came and went; I ran to the bathroom no less than thirty times. So much for "you'll feel better soon." And then things were about to change dramatically. This time, I went, and eased myself up after emptying my bowels yet AGAIN, and the bowl was filled with blood. Finally! A symptom commensurate with my pain! Unfamiliar with such a shocking symptom (it definitely wasn't on the "get better soon" list), I thought I'm probably going to die.

I tried to call my doctor, but it was 11:45 AM. They were out to lunch and wouldn't return until 1 PM. I laid down and cried. Summoned by the alien daemon in my bowels, I got up again. And more blood. Finally got through to the doctor on call who suggested I either come in "maybe it's hemorrhoids from all that activity down there," or go to the ER again. I'm like, seriously!? Maybe he wasn't listening. This was nothing BUT blood. And a lot of it. I went to the ER.

Most of what happened next I really don't remember, but the next memory I do have is a 4th year medical student (whom I'd met), a doctor (whom I had not met), and two nurses came in. They all looked at me, "Well, the good news is, your results are in from the samples we took last night. You have campylobacter, and it's turned to dysentery." And then the ER doc listens carefully to my gut, chuckles and exclaims, "Wow, listen to those guys banging around in there." So, it wasn't an alien. It was alienS.

More IV drugs, some good ones this time.. and I faded in and out. Everyone left me alone with the lights out. Somehow they knew I wouldn't be needing company. My aliens were quieted. Angels fluttered, harps strummed. I was pain free for hours. Then, it was time to go home.

The good news was, I really wasn't in pain anymore (this was controlled by antispasmodic drugs). The bad news was, I was losing a lot of blood. I actually fell asleep for the longest period in this ordeal, about three hours, and woke up with the distinct sensation of feeling wet. I looked down. Oh, yeah, you betcha. I was soaked in blood. I had fallen asleep on my back, and it just dripped out for three hours. Nothing like a little internal bleeding to keep things interesting.

At that point, having already passed blood well over a dozen times (and who knows how many millions of aliens) in the previous six hours, I thought dying was a real possibility. I got up, put my sheets in the washer and began to tidy the bedroom. If i was going to die, my bedroom would not be embarrassingly messy. When you call 9-1-1 around here, the entire local city government comes by land and by boat and they all cram into your bedroom, no matter how tiny (yes, i know this from personal experience, though not for myself, fortunately).

I continued to "pass blood," which was my new pseudo medical term that had replaced "bowel movement" and "diarrhea." Nothing solid had made it past my stomach in four days. I was actually giving up hope. I didn't want to go back to the ER, I wanted to talk about blood and aliens in my belly and nothing else. I wanted someone tell me this was going to end. At 4 AM I talk to the Dr, and I am to get an early morning appointment (really? have you tried calling to get an appointment at 9 AM when the phones open?).

My doctor listens to the whole story. And proceeds to say, "Well, after some more blood work, we're going to give you a rectal to see if there's any blood in there." Ummmm WTH?! Are you KIDDING me? Did you just listen to ANYTHING I said? He got a fax of all my records from the hospital and proceeded to tell me everything I already knew and told him. Oh brother. Apparently you only needed to read and not listen to graduate from medical school where he went.

And then suddenly, twelve hours later, without warning… the bleeding stopped. I realized I was, in fact, going to live. The aliens had officially lost. And I began to think about what was next. That next is getting ready for Boston. Whatever that meant now.

Originally, I'd hoped that Boston would be a near PR race (after all, I was fitter than I was for Chicago, but of course, the hills make it much tougher). But now with only four weeks to go--and having missed a week already--I know that's no longer on the menu. I will not be capable of any even moderate workouts before the race.

It's one of the more intriguing things about the marathon. To do spectacularly well for yourself, everything must come together. The weather, the course, the travel, your health, your training, your job, your family. And all over time. It is an investment, as this was for me. I'd given up a lot to do my very best in Boston this year. And simply qualifying for Boston was two serious years in the making; more than that of dreaming.

But, while the high ace may have slipped from my hands, I still have other cards I can choose. One of them is to run Boston with significantly curtailed goals. I need to recover and be 100 percent healthy most importantly. But, I can still go out and cruise to a comfy four plus hours.. or whatever I am capable of doing that day. And it's not that I am not taking the marathon seriously. It will be simply the best I can do under the last minute circumstances I am given.

Boston is my celebration race. I will ensure I go and relish the moment for all its worth. I do deserve to be there; I will finish proudly. I qualified handily. I did put in my time for this race. But, as it happens, this year did not come together for me through no fault of my own. Winning does not happen in just one event, but it's in being a winner, and doing what a winner does even when thrown a curve ball. There's always next year, and there's also Chicago in the fall. Boston this year will simply be enjoyed. And I will feel good about it.

20 Miles in The Mud

You have to read yesterday's Buckeyeoutdoors entry entry to fully appreciate what it was like to turn my alarm off at 5:45 AM, roll over to the side of the bed and stand up. I was so out of it, my alarm had actually reached the second stage of urgent beeping. I'd have rolled over and gone back to sleep, but I promised to meet Travis, so somehow, I found the direction of up--which was notably against the pull of gravity and my beckoning pillow.

I stood testily. Everything hurt. Things I didn't even know I'd hurt yesterday complained. I had scratches and deep bruises on my arm I'd never noticed yesterday. My back, neck and shoulders groaned in rhythm. I felt like I'd been in a car wreck. And oh yes, my poor right glute (point of most severe impact) was very, very unhappy. I even had a bruise on my left side. No matter. I would run today. Tempted to take some Ibuprofen or Tylenol to ease my aches, I instead decided it was best to take the run undiluted. Those things could wait.

We planned this in four-mile legs, leaving my car in one spot and driving Travis' car to another location four miles away. He would run four of the segments, finishing at his car, and I would run five. Lucky for me, Travis had a 50K in his legs from six days ago, so that slowed him down.

Temps at the start were 39F, and we took off. The first mile was slow, 9-ish and my glute complained rather loudly. I wondered how I would do nineteen more of these. I did not feel great for the first leg, and was happy to take a Gatorade break and went ahead and took a gel. Sixteen more miles to go. Thank goodness our pace naturally quickened, although not where I wanted it to be. The trail was notably muddy, and was at times difficult to run due to deep bike tire grooves and extremely sloppy segments. (The picture isn't of LBTT, but a reasonable facsimile of the muddiness and the trail.)

The second leg was my best leg, and the only time I can claim that I felt really good on this run. My glute had quieted down a bit; and my other glute was aching a little in harmony... so it was a nice balance. We noticed some wind coming up this way, nothing terrible, but enough to recall a particular run some months back on the same trail when it was very windy. Right before we finished the eighth mile, a man was walking his smallish dog on the trail without a leash, and it ran after me and jumped on me, putting muddy pawprints all the way up to my chest. Glad it wasn't barking or biting, but seriously. Ever heard of a leash?

The third leg was the worst for me. I was in the middle of my run, and knew I still had two more legs to go. Oddly, the wind shifted, and we both noted outloud, "Weren't we running into the wind going the opposite direction last time?"

At last the final leg for Travis, and the penultimate one for me as we turned around. At least the wind stayed shifted, and this was an easier leg. I felt the mileage, knew this wasn't going to be my best 20-miler ever, but still it was going to be solid enough. There were no real issues, and I would finish just fine. Interestingly, the trail seemed to get sloppier and muddier with each pass. Maybe because of the additional melting that was going on, or maybe because of the heavy foot and bike traffic. Travis kicked it in with a 7:20 for the sixteenth mile, and I ran an 8:11. Thanks, Travis--my run sucked less because I had company for most of it.

My final leg, now solo, was about running back into the wind, which seemed to be picking up, slogging through more mud and feeling excessively warm as the sun came out from behind a curtain of clouds for the first time all morning. I imagined myself as a plant initiating photosynthesis, deriving energy from mere sunlight. I plugged in my iPod, and really didn't care about pace, I just wanted to finish. Nothing hurt, but everything hurt in the way only a runner on a long run can understand. I'd planned well, I had no rubs or concerns. My energy wasn't a problem, other than feeling somewhat blah for the whole run--but it was adequate. The effort seemed a bit harder than it should have, and the mud piled up on my shoes and the back of my legs. There were a few people ahead of me from other groups on this last section, and I spent my time in this leg planning to pass each of them and enjoying picking them off one by one. It was the only amusement I had. My legs felt strong. Eventually, it was over. As I got in my car, the temperature read 61 F, which is a very quick warm up for three hours--no wonder I was feeling hot! The best news of all, is Spring is nearly here.

Have Athletes Reached Their Limits?

On page A12 of today's Kansas City Star (sourced from the Los Angeles Times), I read with interest the article entitled, "How many more records can athletes break?" subtitled, "Not many, say scientists who believe humans have reached the peak of athletic achievement." (I am unable to find the article online, or I would link it here.)

The story was introduced by yet another track and field winner who was stripped of a previously earned gold medal after it was discovered she "admitted to using a performance enhancing drug." It was explained, "..to many sports scientists, the news was evidence of a broader trend. They believe that human athletic performance has peaked, and only cheating or technological advances will result in a rash of new world records."

"A French researcher who analyzed a century's worth of world records concluded in a recent paper that the peak of athletic achievement was reached in 1988. Eleven world records were broken that year in track and field. Seven of them still stand... [I]n the 1990s we started to see a decrease in performance. Now, there are a lot of events that don't show any progression at all." The article explains that the less mature winter sports will still see a rise, and the spike in swimming records around 2000 were due to the introduction of new high-tech swimsuits.

The concern here is that "the public thinks that athletes will get better and better. That's why they tune in to watch. I don't know if people realize that athletes can't keep improvement at the rates they have been," explained Conrad Earnest, director of exercise biology at Pennington Biomedical Research Center in Baton Rouge, LA.

Now, that's an interesting point for runners. Mostly, just for us to ponder, as we won't be anywhere near world record breaking, nor do we care. (But, hey, if you are world record contender, let me welcome you to my blog, thanks for stopping by!) I do wonder how much of today's superior running achievements are due to hard work and the gift of genetics, versus how much doping or other banned substances are used to shave a few milliseconds? And, do people really watch these events to behold a world record? Or do they watch for the drama of a good foot race? What if there are no "natural" (read: no illegal performance enhancing drugs or doping) marathons faster than Haile's 2:03:59 set in Berlin a little over a year ago? Does it matter? Tell me what you think.

Jogging in the Snow

Thanks, Rick, for pointing this tidbit out: "There's snow on the ground in all 50 states." I had 17 miles to run yesterday, and every option I clicked off sounded less desirable than the first. All the trail systems were snow covered, and I was tired of my hilly lake roads and I've had enough miles on the treadmill. So, I took a risk, and drove out to Longview Lake, planning on a central entrance at Shelter House 11, going for three segments, 6 miles south, 6 miles north and 5 miles whichever way I wanted to repeat.

My plans came to a screeching halt when all the gates were locked and barred. "Hmmph," I thought, "This place must be run by picnickers, not runners." I'd chosen Longview as it has the unique attribute of a decent trail system that is all paved (read: not mushy / muddy, as I knew every other option would be). I drove up to the north end, and found I could park and start at that entrance. Which meant I'd need to run the same segment three times out and back, ah well.

I hadn't gone far before I realized it wasn't going to be my day. Within a half mile, I had to tread over a long stretch of icy, slippery snow. Plus, my energy level didn't seem to be where I wanted it. By two and a half miles, I realized it was a bit breezier than I expected and had a few more inclines than I recalled, and the snow patches were becoming more and more frequent. I seriously considered turning around and attempting the run tomorrow. Somewhere else. Any other day. I wanted to give up.

As I reached the three mile mark, it was apparent by the snow tracks that fewer people had made it this far south (would require a total of six miles to return to their cars at the far north end), and I knew if I turned around at this point, I probably wasn't going to complete the run. So, I pressed on, and the snowy patches increased and the previous footsteps decreased and I was going farther and farther from my car. By the time I'd passed four and a half miles, I found I was actually feeling better; I seemed to have found fuel, but the slipping and sliding was an ongoing consideration. While I've complained about the poor condition of the cracked and broken asphalt trail here before, it's hard to whine about that when you can't even see it beneath the slushy, slippery white stuff. I was constantly sliding, losing my footing and trying not to fall.

As I crossed over mile five, I knew that at least if I turned around here, I'd only have seven to go when I returned to my car for refreshments. And that's what I should have done. But, six miles out and back sounded so much better, I'd only have five total left to do. By this point, no one had hit the trail, and with the additional tree covering, I was now completely running in undisturbed, crunchy snow about 3-4" deep. "Jogging in the snow," I pondered. Pleased to have had my gaiters on, as it largely prevented snow from working its way into my shoes. The good news was--I wasn't slipping anymore. The bad news--this was wearing me out. I almost turned around at five and a half miles (which would have left me six more to complete upon return to the car), but pressed on. I finished the six out and back.

As I turned around, I realized how thirsty I was, and how this was going to be a long trek back to the car. My two miles of "jogging in the snow" were 9:30 and 9:33, respectively. Although slow, they were quite draining--and required more work than the faster miles. I didn't really care too much about my pace on the way back, but decided to kick it in as best I could for the last mile back to the car. It netted me something the 8:10s, I didn't quite grab the number and my laps failed at that point on the Garmin. Not bad, but I did lightly twist my ankle booking it over the ice at one point.

Twelve miles down, I drained an entire Gatorade bottle on the spot I was so thirsty. I really didn't feel like the remaining five. Maybe I should just get in the car and finish it on the treadmill. Then I realized how ridiculous that sounded. I pressed on, talking myself through various multiples of the distance I had remaining. Although my laps weren't working on the Garmin, the time I had remaining for the five miles indicated I'd managed about an 8:15 pace for these miles. I finished in exactly 2:30, start to finish, which was truly amazing for the conditions. It wasn't that fast, but definitely the kind of run that will build strength and stability for future runs to come.

This morning, I am feeling fine--nothing hurts. But last night, my ankles were pretty tired.