Monday, December 14, 2020

Passaic Valley Rotary Run 5K - Nov. 28, 2020

Hi!  Remember me?  I used to run sub-18 5Ks.  Almost every time.  For nine straight years.  

And who am I now?  Not that guy.  I am the guy that used to be that guy.  But if I have to settle for that, then for the usual 5K that comes a month after a marathon, I would run a course that I had mastered when I was that guy.

Ah, Little Falls, my old stomping grounds.  I had run the Passaic Valley Rotary Run six times between 2008 and 2015, with times that varied from 19:21 in 2009 to 18:08 in 2015.  I lived in that township during those years and had run most of the roads.  I knew that course so well, I could do it with my eyes closed. So at least I would not have to worry about that aspect of it.  

What did worry me was that even though I was relentlessly doing speed work, I was getting slower with every passing week.  Just a couple of years ago, I could cover more than six miles in a 40-minute tempo run, getting down to a six-minute pace or better in the middle; now I can barely muster much more than 5.5 and the fast miles are not that fast.  Speaking of fast miles, when doing mile repeats, none of them are even getting near the 6-minute mark, whereas in 2018, I could blast out sub-6s.

Still, at the get-go on McBride Avenue from the Little Falls Recreation Center into Woodland Park, I managed a 6:10 first mile, turning onto Lackawanna Road and then Riverview Drive in Totowa, along the Passaic River, and that gave me a glimmer of hope.

I knew there was a hill coming and I geared myself up for it - push hard enough to get up quickly, but not so hard that it would deplete all my energy. Unfortunately, I failed on both counts - that mile ended up being 6:47 as I turned onto Union Boulevard and then Walnut Street, and it took the wind right out of my sails.  

The third mile, on Prospect Street, First Avenue, Wilmore Road and, finally, Maple to Paterson Avenue and straight downhill to the Rec Center was labored, and I only managed a 6:28.  My final time was 19:56.  Slower than even the first time I ran that course 12 years ago.  Slower than every 5K I have raced since 2007.

I went home, showered, ate pancakes and tried to not be depressed.  

Sunday, October 18, 2020

Hartford Marathon - Hartford, CT - Oct. 10, 2020

When I hit the halfway point in South Windsor, CT, at around one hour and 47 minutes, I had already known that finishing in less than four hours would be more difficult than ever on this warm October day.  But I still was not expecting to fail as spectacularly as I did.

We got on the road at around 9 a.m. and made it to the start point at the Capitol Building in Hartford at around 11:15.  I did some warmups and was ready to go by 11:30.  I felt a bit bogged down by all the stuff I was carrying, but I had to soldier on.  I had my phone (for music and to call Gloria if anything went wrong), my license and insurance card (in case anything went really wrong), my GoPro (to take video of this very different marathon experience), my 20-ounce bottle of diluted Gatorade, and detailed turn-by-turn notes on dozens of pieces of three-by-four note paper.  

The latter was the most cumbersome, but the most important.  I had spent hours combing over the course map (from certifiedroadraces.com) and using Google Earth to get an on-the-ground look at all the twists and turns, as well as landmarks for which to look.  And yet, I still somehow missed a turn in the first mile. It killed my momentum and started me on the road to stressing out (I also thought I had lost my license, but it was buried in my pocket).  I had only been running for five minutes, so I walked back to the Capitol Building and started over. 

This time, on the right track, I proceeded to run the five turns in the first two miles - 7:29 and 7:59. That was probably too fast, but with the multitude of cars and confusing street signs - and enough pedestrians to make it necessary for me to wear a face mask - I was uncomfortable, I was stressed, I had to pee, and I could not get out of downtown fast enough. 

Things went a little more smoothly heading north and into Riverside Park, with my third mile at 7:45.  Thankfully, there was a portable restroom in the park, so I made use of it and set out onto the trail along the Connecticut River where I was a bit more comfortable (though I still wore the mask because of the other people walking the narrow path) and was able to get rid of the first bunch of pages of my course notes.

Deliberately slowing down through the rest of the park trail (8:10 for mile four), then back into downtown Hartford (8:05 for mile five), I navigated the next four turns to get me to the Founders Bridge over the river and into East Hartford, with a sixth mile at 8:06.  Five more turns in the seventh mile (7:55) on thankfully less-busy streets got me back onto a trail, this time in Great River Park, on the other end of which, at the eighth mile (8:39), Gloria met me with cold water and moral support, both of which I already needed.

In mile nine (8:32), the course started getting a little easier along East River Drive, with a turn onto Route 5 (Main Street), though the busy road did not make for much fun.  A turn into a residential neighborhood made things better in mile 10 (8:18), but the straightaway on Prospect Street had me confused and frustrated because I knew I had to turn back onto Main Street, but *none* of the intersections had street signs.  Frustration saps energy, so when I finally found Main, my 11th mile time was 8:45 - my slowest yet.  

That was fine.  I wanted to slow down.  The temperature was now in the 70s and it was relentlessly sunny.  The next turn was onto King Street, and once again there was a lack of street signs, getting me all tense again.  Seriously, East Hartford - you really suck with your signage.

Finally on King Street (8:35 for mile 12), I could relax because there was only one more turn (8:35 for mile 13) and then there would be nine blessed miles on the relatively peaceful Main Street (but not Route 5 - as I said, it was confusing) in South Windsor.

Unfortunately, by this point, I was already losing steam.  This was the part of the race to which I was looking forward, but I could not even enjoy it.  It was far too early to be running out of gas, yet it was happening rapidly - 8:59 for mile 14, 9:14 for mile 15, 9:27 for mile 16 and, at the turnaround, 10:09 for mile 17.

Nine more miles to go and I knew there was no chance of anything getting any better.  My legs were getting leaden and my stomach was twisting in knots.  I walked for a while and Gloria pulled up alongside me in the car at around mile 18 (11:35).  She gave me some more cold water - I downed two bottles.  I was clearly dehydrated.  I had gotten accustomed to doing long runs in the heat during the summer, but recent weeks had been cooler and this unexpected spike in temperature caught my body off guard.  It was obvious by now that this would be the first time it would take me more than four hours to finish a marathon.

My condition worsened as running turned to jogging in mile 19 (12:17), then a jog/walk in miles 20 and 21 (13:04 and 12:24), and then walking in mile 22 (14:04). 

Back on Route 5, after Gloria went ahead to meet me at a later point, I called her and told her I would be walking the rest of the way (and that I was sorry that she would have to wait around for the next hour or so).  Along Prospect Street again (15:58 for mile 23), even walking was difficult, as I slowed to a trudge (17:32 for mile 24). 

Stopping for a moment to dry heave as my stomach continued its revolt against the rest of my body, I finally made my way to Pitkin Street (20:13 for mile 25) and onto the Founders Bridge, where I finally vomited whatever my stomach could produce.  Gloria met me on foot during the last mile (21:14 for mile 26) and helped me slowly meander to the finish line, which I hit at a final time of 4:50:45, almost a full hour slower than my previous slowest marathon.  

While walking those last few miles, I spent a lot of time thinking about what went wrong.  My best guess is that a lot of small factors compounded into a what turned out to be a difficult and exhausting day.  Sometimes, everything - the weather, the mood, the course, the conditions - seems to fall into place (ah, Mississippi, less than two short years ago); but sometimes, nothing does.

At 46 years old, with 24 marathons under my belt, that has to be expected (especially in the weirdest year ever) and I have to be OK with it.  It means I am human, it means life throws curveballs, and it means that things can not always go as planned, no matter how much one plans.

Of course, it also means that I will probably be back in Hartford next year, trying again.



Thursday, October 8, 2020

Marathon XXIV

The COVID era marches on with races canceled everywhere.  Frankly, even if they were not, I am not comfortable enough being around large groups of people anyway, so I would probably steer clear.

And yet...

The marathon into which I have entered has become a virtual marathon this year.  Participants can run it anywhere in the world and send the proof of their 26.2 miles from their Garmin or similar devices.  But that seems weird to me.  If I planned to run a marathon in a certain place on a certain date, well, I am going to do so. 

Thus, my 24th marathon will be of the virtual sort, but I am going to run the actual course (thank you, certifiedroadraces.com!) on the day.  I set out to run *this* marathon, so I am going to run *this* marathon.

Saturday, October 3, 2020

Baker's Dozen Half Marathon - Montclair, NJ - Aug. 8, 2020

The pandemic has not, and will not deter me from my usual training cycles, and if that means all of my races are going to be my myself, then so be it.  It was never supposed to be about competing against other people or winning age group medals anyway.  Admittedly, it had been getting like that in recent years, with my ego running away with itself sometimes.  But in the end, it has always about me and the clock - setting personal records and training to perform at my best on race day.

Now, with my days of PRs behind me and speedwork becoming more difficult as I navigate the back half of my 40s, racing for the hell of it has never been more important.  I cannot say I get much joy out of short races anymore, but the challenge of marathons is as alluring as ever. 

So I continue with my marathon training schedule, and doing so (using Hal Higdon's Intermediate Marathon training program this time) requires running a half-marathon halfway through the 18-week program. 

Rather than try to find another new course, I decided to take another stab at the Baker's Dozen in Montclair, NJ.  I had specifically trained for that race a couple of months earlier and had a tough time with it - partially because it was a warm day, but mostly because I have been burning out in the speed department as I get older. 

This time, I would have more fun with it.  It was, after all, just a stepping stone in my marathon training program rather than the endgame of weeks of training.  Plus, I knew the course a lot better, so that helped me gauge when to push and when to conserve.

My first two miles, along Forest, Claremont, and North and South Mountain avenues, were almost exactly the same as six weeks before, with a 7:11 and a 6:50 (as compared to 7:10 and 6:49).  I strategically took the loop around Eagle Rock Way and Stonebridge Road a little more slowly (7:09, as opposed to 6:49 in June), and thought I was doing the same for the fourth mile up South Mountain Avenue (7:10, though I did a 7:09 last time).

The strategy was to conserve for the steep uphill on Claremont Avenue in the fifth mile.  I did that mile also on par with last time (7:53 vs. 7:54), but this time I did not expend as much energy and that made a big difference in the rest of the race.  So instead of already feeling fatigued in the sixth and seventh miles on the rolling hills of Highland Avenue, I felt strong as I hit a 7:12 and 7:05 (where I did 7:23 and 7:08 last time).  In the next few miles along Upper and North Mountain avenues, I tried to keep status quo (7:17, 7:35, 7:26 and 7:23) averaging one second faster in these miles as I did in June; but once again, I did not feel like I needed to push nearly as hard to get there.

Even on the seven-turn twister of mile 12, I kept it relatively steady with a 7:32 (7:34 last time) but did not have (or feel the need for) quite the closing kick as I did six weeks prior, tackling the last mile at 7:24 (7:14 in June).  Still, with a finish time of 1:35:52, I somehow managed to best my previous Baker's Dozen time by 17 seconds, making it my third slowest half-marathon ever, but somehow a little more satisfying now that I have accepted that my speed game is a thing of the past.  

This attitude took me through my triumphant double sub-four-hour marathon weekend earlier this year, which now seems like a lifetime ago on a different planet.  As long as this weird new world continues to change everything we do and the way we do it, my races will continue to be less formal and more personal; and I am heading into my first marathon of the COVID era with that approach.

Thursday, July 16, 2020

Baker's Dozen Half Marathon - Montclair, NJ - June 28, 2020

When this race was introduced in 2017, I could not help but wonder if a bunch of Phish fans were behind its nomenclature.  After all, Phish's guaranteed-to-be-epic 13-night run of the same name had been announced in January of that year.  Then along comes this race in the spring in Montclair - a town sure to have its fair share of phans, as evidenced when the Trey Anastasio Band played at the Wellmont Theater in 2011 and 2013.  Coincidence?

Since I never got around to running the actual race (usually in March), this year's circumstances seemed like a good opportunity to finally give the course a whirl.

Having lived in neighboring Little Falls for eight years, I know a lot of the roads in Montclair, so much of the course was on familiar ground.  The race starts and ends at the Montclair Bread Company on Forest Avenue, in the eastern side of town, but this race hits just about every area except the northeast and southeast corners. 

(Race map: https://certifiedroadraces.com/certificate/?type=l&id=NJ17550JHP)

I had written out turn-by-turn directions to take with me, which was especially helpful in the early miles.  After turning off of Forest Avenue to head west on Claremont, there was already a bit of an incline.  I took it in stride, not letting out too much effort, and hit a 7:10 for the first mile after turning left on North Mountain Avenue and crossing Bloomfield Avenue (the main drag through downtown) to continue on South Mountain Avenue.  I can imagine that the locals, especially those in cars, are probably not too fond of this crossing on the actual race days.

Training had gotten pretty bad over the past couple of weeks, especially with speed work.  Tempo runs got slower and more painful; track intervals were more labored.  But as I hoofed it down South Mountain for the second mile (6:49) things started to feel like they were going to be OK.  With a loop around the southeastern section of town, along Eagle Rock Way and Stonebridge Road, my third mile stayed strong with a 6:46, but that would be the last sub-7 mile of this race.

Retracing the path back up South Mountain and crossing Bloomfield again, I could feel the slowdown  in the fourth mile (7:09), but the worst was to come when I turned left on Claremont Avenue and climbed a 115-foot incline.  I had to take the steep hill as gingerly as possible because I knew it would knock me out beyond recovery if I did not.  So after turning onto Highland Avenue, mile five ended up being 7:54, my slowest of any half-marathon ever.

The next two miles on the rolling hills going northbound on Highland Avenue (7:23 and 7:08) were followed by a right turn on Mt. Hebron and two miles southbound on Upper Mountain Avenue (7:16 and 7:29) and a left turn on Claremont to zig the zag northbound on North Mountain Avenue for another two miles (7:28 and 7:30).

During these miles, I could not help but think about how, a year and a half ago, these splits would have been slow for a marathon, let alone a half.  How had things gotten so slow, so quickly?

Worse, a nagging pain in what I assume was my piriformis muscle (deep in my right buttock) - something with which I had suffered a few years ago - started creeping in.  All I could hope to do was maintain the pace as best as I could through the twisty-turny next mile (7:34) along Parkside, Oakcroft, Brookfield, Edgemont, Parkway, Valley and Vera.  That was a lot of turns and the paper on which I wrote the street names was rapidly turning to soaked shreds in my hand due to my profuse sweating.  It was probably more than 80 degrees by this point.

I managed to push it to 7:14 for one last mile along Midland, Chestnut, N. Fullerton, and the home stretch from Rand to Forest, finishing the race near where it started with a final time of 1:36:09, my slowest half-marathon by more than five minutes (I ran a 1:30:40 at Seaside Heights in 2008).

The year 2020 is long going to be remembered as a dividing line in a lot of ways.  In addition to life in a pre-COVID and post-COVID world, for me personally, it is the year I ceased to be a "fast" runner for my age and bumped down to "average".  My goal is to learn to live with that, without beating myself up.  

Saturday, July 4, 2020

Great Swamp Spring Distance Classic 15K – Basking Ridge, NJ - June 7, 2020

The official race date was a week or two prior, but I ran this official course as part of my coronavirus-era series of “races” to keep myself training hard and racing regularly.  Almost as sad as the fact that these terrible times call for such a strategy is the fact that my abilities continue to decline.  If 2019 began the slide from peak performance, 2020 has sealed the deal with an exponential decrease.
This is a stone cold fact that you never read in any running book or article: When it comes to speed and stamina, you lose it much more quickly than you attain it.
I have been running for 15 years.  It took me 11 years to get to peak speed.  I maintained it, with some minor fluctuations, for about two years.  And in the last two years, I have already dropped to almost the levels at which I started.  That is a brutal blow to the psyche; a bruise on the ego.
But let us get to the matter at hand – the 15K in Basking Ridge (where Phish's Page McConnell spent his childhood!).  My last 15K was on the hills of Block Island in 2016, where I inexplicably, unbelievably achieved a PR of 58:22.  Less than four years hence, on a mostly flat course, I could not even come close.
Starting at the official line, spray-painted on the pavement, I headed east on Lord Stirling Road. The first mile was great (6:18) thanks to an early downhill.  Having rested the day before, my legs felt fresh.  I was glad I had studied the course map, because the first turn was on Carlton Road which has no street sign.  Thankfully, though, the turnaround point on that road was spray-painted on the pavement.  
I hit mile two with a more realistic (though slightly disappointing) 6:33.  But I figured that was a good place to be this early on in the race, knowing that for a 15K, it is important to keep some gas in the tank.
Before turning onto Lord Stirling again to continue eastbound and hitting the mile 3 mark (6:30), a fellow on a bicycle (there were a lot of those out there that morning) passed me and said, “That’s quite an aggressive pace you’ve got going.”
I wanted to be able to explain that I was trying my best to run races while there were no actual races happening and that this was one of the courses, all I could muster was, “Thanks.”
Still, if I could have stayed in that 6:30 range, I would have been happy, all things considered.  But by the time I made it to the mile 4 mark (6:44) on Pleasant Plains Road, I could feel it all unraveling.  It was getting warmer – sunny and approaching 70F – and I was getting fatigued already.  I was not even halfway finished.  I had to press on, though.  I had no choice – this was a race, after all.
After another well-marked turnaround I hit mile 5 (6:47) before turning eastward again on Lord Stirling.  With each successively slower mile, I was calculating in my head how much slower my overall pace was, and it was not making me happy.  I simply had to push harder.
For a little while, it worked.  I hit the mile 6 mark with a 6:40 before the final turnaround that would send me back west on Lord Stirling with a straight stretch to the finish line for the final 5K.  I just had to keep pushing.
There was almost nothing left, though.  I gave it whatever I could - using every ounce of energy, trying to extend my legs as far as they would go – and I still came up with only 6:54 in both mile 7 and mile 8.  With a little more than a mile to go, I let it out whatever was left and managed a 6:39 in mile 9.
If that was the end of the race, my average pace would have been 6:39.  Nothing about which to write home, but understandable with the way things have been going.  But in that extra third of a mile at the end, I had to run up that hill that I went down at the beginning of the race.  It took me 2:42 to go that last three-tenths of a mile.  That is a 9:00 pace.  It was excruciating.
With a 1:02:23 final time, it was my slowest 15K with the exception of my first one in 2006 (1:09:38).  Since my second one was in 2009, with a 1:00:46, this means my ability has dropped to that of more than 11 years ago.  That is 11 years of improvement lost in only four years time – and not for lack of training, either.  I have been training exactly as much and as hard, only to see myself deteriorate rapidly.
It is frustrating and, like I said, it is something you never hear about.  Even with no major injury and no change in training, it all just falls apart when you get old enough.  
But does this mean I am giving up?  Not a chance.  July is half-marathon time.

Thursday, May 21, 2020

My own personal 10K - Pompton Plains, NJ - May 17, 2020

The way things have been going, who knows if the hypothetical half-marathon for which I have been training will be anything more than that.  But in the meantime, the schedule for Hal Higdon's Advanced half-marathon training program said I have to run a 10K, so it was time to select another old race to re-run.

For this one, I chose the Apple Chase 10K in Pompton Plains, which I ran on May 4, 2013.  I remember it being notable because it was the first time I met North Jersey's greatest runner, Rob Albano (who, of course, won the race), and also because it was where I achieved my PR, thanks to the super flat course that had nothing even resembling a hill.

There was no illusion that I would come even close to that 38:19 record, nor did I even think I could match the 39:34 result from the Grand Prairie, Texas, race from only five months ago.  No, my speed game has gone quickly downhill this year, so there was no expectation that even a sub-40 was in the cards.

I studied the course map from CertifiedRoadRaces.com and set about to run the race late Sunday morning.  It was a pleasant 63 degrees and sunny, though a little breezy.  Starting with a first mile of 6:10 northbound along West End Avenue was encouraging, but my stamina quickly dropped in the second mile along Mountain Avenue and southbound along the Boulevard, with a 6:18.

Continuing into the wind, it was getting increasingly difficult to maintain even that pace, so my third mile was 6:36.  Even after turning onto Slingerland Avenue (now in the borough of Lincoln Park) and doing the quick out-and-back on Frances Road, things were not getting any better with a 6:38.

Ouch.  It was not that long ago - just a few years - when those splits were slow for a half-marathon, let alone a 10K.  I had to push with all my might along West Parkway to try to make some kind of improvement in the last two miles, especially since I was now heading north with the wind at my back.  All I could do in miles five and six, though, was maintain status quo with 6:37 and 6:32, respectively.

The last few tenths of a mile for the Apple Chase race are supposed to be on the grounds of Pequannock Township High School on Sunset Road, through the field gate and onto the track for a big finish (I love track finishes!).  Unfortunately, the gates were closed, so I had to turn around and finish the last quarter mile on the road, with a finish time of 40:10, which was around what I expected. 

I can only imagine what it would have been like if there were hills involved, but that is something to find out another day.  On this day, I ran the best race I could, as a 45-year-old in the early stages of post-PR life.  At this point, what matters most is that I keep putting in the effort.  I will keep training, I will keep racing, and I will keep posting times, official or not.

Saturday, May 9, 2020

Boonton SRT 5K - April 26, 2020

The weird times continue, but I still will not change my training cycles.  I decided to start training for a half marathon, ostensibly to take place sometime in the early summer.  Of course, the possibility remains that there will be no race to run.  Plus, Hal Higdon's Advanced Half-Marathon training program calls for sporadic shorter races to be run during the training cycle and there are definitely none of those happening.

There were plenty, however, that were supposed to happen, such as the Boonton SRT 5K in Boonton, NJ, on April 26.

Here is a fun fact: Any race that is certified by USA Track and Field has an official course map archived at certifiedroadraces.com.  Race got canceled?  No problem!  Look up the course map and run it yourself.  The start, end and turnaround points are explained and visualized in great detail, so you can be certain of its accuracy, even more so than if you use your GPS watch.  And knowing that you can run the exact race for which you trained gives your result that much more authenticity than if you ran 3.1 miles anywhere else.

So I found the course map and ran the race (later in the day, in case anyone else had the same idea).  

It was a chilly morning for the end of April, but I wore shorts because I was taking this as seriously as if it was the actual planned event.  I was happy to blast off as quickly as possible, if only to warm up.  The first mile through the pleasant suburban neighborhood was flat and then downhill, which led me to a 5:56 - my first sub-six mile in more than five months (the first mile of the Purple Stride 5K in November).

That was not going to last and I knew it.  Things leveled off alongside some woods and the Boonton Reservoir, but what goes down must come up again, so I had to go uphill in the second mile, resulting in a 6:28.  A 36-second slowdown is a huge swing, and I was determined to pick up the pace.  

The third mile included two turnarounds, which always tend to kill momentum, and I needed all the momentum I could muster since I was rapidly running out of steam.  By the time I was on the home stretch, I was hurting.  I pushed as hard as I could, but my aging body has been on a noticeable decline, no matter how hard I train.  My legs cannot churn as quickly, my heart cannot pump as strongly, and my lungs cannot process oxygen as efficiently.  

Still, I managed to (painfully) pull out a 6:12 for the third mile and hit the finish with a 19:21, exactly one second faster than I did a few weeks prior when I did the Verona Labor Day 5K course as my own personal race.

So this is it.  This is 2020: Racing by myself, with only two competitors - the clock and the effects of aging.  Awards and medals aside, that is what it has always been about anyway.  I guess not much has changed after all.  See you later in the month for my next 10K, then.

Saturday, April 25, 2020

My Own Personal 5K #3 - April 5, 2020 - Verona, NJ

These are weird times.  Everything you normally do, the way you do it, has to change in some way.  But I would be damned if I was not going to run the post-marathon 5K as scheduled.  I would have to improvise, but I would do it.

As part of my recovery from the two marathons, I had planned to run the St. Cassian 5K in Montclair and Bloomfield - at Brookdale Park, site of my first 5K ever, back in 2006 - scheduled for April 5.  Then the coronavirus started to spread.  By the third week of March, I was working from home.  Shortly after, events started getting canceled.  

OK, no problem.  I am a disciplined guy.  If they cancel the race, my backup plan will be to get the course map from the website, show up at the park later in the day, and run the damn race myself.

Sure enough, by the end of March, the race was canceled.  Then, at the beginning of April, Gov. Murphy shut down all state and county parks, of which Brookdale is the latter.  I drove to the park in hopes that maybe the shutdown was only to stop people from driving to the park and congregating in groups.  However, there was yellow "caution" tape at every entrance, so I drove to neighboring Verona, where I had run the Labor Day 5K in 2011.

The course starts on Lakeside Drive, flat for the first half-mile, until a turn onto Hillside sends you uphill.  At 45 years old, I am now feeling the effects of aging after more than a decade of hard running.  Nine years ago, I bounded up that hill and made the next turn onto Forest to hit the first mile marker in under six minutes.  Not so this time, with a 6:22.  By the time I got to the turnaround on Forest, not even at the halfway point, I was already feeling winded and running out of gas.  But at least I got to go down that hill, which helped me get a 6:13 in the second mile.

Back onto Lakeside, I pushed as hard as I could, turning onto Bloomfield Avenue and then into Verona Park (which, as a municipal park, was open).  There were people strolling while wearing masks and cops present to - I assume - ensure that people did not get together in groups.  And then there was me, loudly grunting and huffing and puffing my way into my imaginary finish line.

I managed to hit mile three with a 6:09, finishing near the boat house with a final time of 19:22.  Looking at my times now, I am happy to see that I negative split every mile.  But at that moment, all I could think of, while gasping for breath and jogging a couple of miles to shake it off and cool down, was how nine years ago I did that course in 18:33.  I thought about how only four years ago, I triumphantly ran sub-18-minute 5Ks at two consecutive races.  And now, it is a struggle to even hit the low 19s.  

This is the day that, I imagine, every runner dreads - the day that you realize that not only are your PRs permanently in the rearview mirror, but you are never even going to come close.  I have reverted back to my run times from a decade ago.  And eventually, I will end up with results that are slower than even that first 5K in Brookdale Park, as a 31-year-old.  

I asked a running colleague who recently turned 60 how he coped with it.  He told me two things - first, to start looking more at the "age-graded" scores on result lists because it gives you an idea of how you did for your age; and, more importantly, he told me to keep putting in the same effort.  The result does not matter as much as long as you know you are giving it all you have, just like you did when you were running PRs.  

Sound advice, regardless of whether there are actual races to run.

Monday, March 9, 2020

One City Marathon - Newport News, VA - March 1, 2020

Even as far as mile 6 of the One City Marathon in Newport News, Virginia, I had my doubts.  Could I actually complete two sub-four-hour in two states in two days?  I had never run a race with such sore legs before, so at that point, I wondered if the answer was no.  But I was already in the thick of it and there was no turning back. We had literally come too far.

With Gloria behind the wheel on Saturday, we stopped at an Italian restaurant in Suffolk, VA, for a pasta dinner and arrived at our hotel in Newport News, VA, around 7 p.m.  That gave me just enough time to get my clothes ready and get to sleep by 9 p.m.

I woke up at 4 a.m., did some stretches and slathered Biofreeze on my tired legs.  Sure, I had held back as much as I could at the Ellerbe Marathon the day before, but 26.2 miles of running followed by six hours in a car still takes its toll.  Sitting on the bus to take us to the start line of this point-to-point race for an hour after that did not exactly help much, either.

Needless to say, when the race finally started at 7 a.m. Sunday, on the unseasonably cold morning (28 degrees), I was on stiff legs.  If the prior day was about holding back, this race would be about pushing through.

I started the 12/31/99 midnight-to-sunrise Phish set in my headphones at the beginning of "Slave to the Traffic Light".  Even though I had finished that song the previous day, my confidence was shaky and I suspected I would need almost the entire four hours to finish this race.  Sure enough, my first mile, through the park was 8:57.  Good enough.  Twenty-five more of those and my goal is reached.

A quick out-and-back in mile two (8:14) on a state highway led to some local roads for the next few miles (8:32, 8:22, 8:30) before moving on to U.S. Highway 60 for a few miles.  I chalked up those relatively swift miles to the excitement of the beginning of the race and the fact there were a few hundred more people at this race than the day before.

Beautiful tree-lined street in mile 5
Thankfully, the entirety of this marathon was flat, with only a few exceptions that amounted to nothing more than some small inclines and declines (definitely nothing I would call "hills", especially after Ellerbe) so my pace stayed rather consistent with 8:29 and 8:38 for miles six and seven.

With more than a quarter of the race finished, my confidence increased greatly.  Off of the highway and onto some local roads, I managed to keep things status quo (8:38, 8:51, 8:54, 8:35) without worrying as much.  So when I got to one of those inclines in mile 12, I took it gingerly with a 9:00 pace.  Knowing that I could do every mile at that pace for the rest of the race and still finish well under four hours boosted my confidence even more, especially as I hit mile 13 at 8:33 and the halfway point at 1:53:38.  I could spend two hours and six minutes on the second half and still reach my sub-four-hour goal.  Mile after mile of flat course meant that there was a real possibility of not needing nearly that much time, since my splits would likely be more consistent than on Ellerbe's hilly course (where my second half was a full two hours after a 1:51:xx first half).

The sign at the swim club in mile nine said, "Marathoners - just keep swim running"

Sideline support from the local residents in mile nine

I was finally comfortable enough to tell myself that it was not a matter of whether I would do it, but rather how long it would take. I was sore, no doubt about it - it was my 40th mile of the weekend.  But somehow, the building excitement of not just reaching, but smashing that goal got me through the next mile (8:30). After the 15th mile (8:44) it dawned on me that if I kept up the sub-nine miles, I would actually tie the marathon from a day ago.  And then after mile 16 (8:36), the prospect of actually beating it became all too real, especially as I was propelled by some seriously awesome Phish jams like "Drowned -> After Midnight" and a particularly killer "Piper".


If restraint was the order of the day in Ellerbe, consistency was the name of the game in Newport News, and somehow, I kept nailing it through miles 17 (8:44), 18 (8:44), and 19 (8:46) - through Christopher Newport University and into the Mariners' Museum and Park.  "Roses Are Free" started in my ears while I was in the park, as a beautiful view of the James River appeared before me.  Knowing this legendary half-hour jam would take me well into mile 22 and that nine-minute miles from that point on would still net me a better result than the day before, I hung back a bit, with 9:02, 9:01, and 9:04 as I ran through some suburban neighborhoods with people on their driveways cheering for the runners.

Four miles left, with 38 minutes to run them to beat the marathon I had finished less than 24 hours prior.  I had it in the bag, with an 8:47, 8:57 and 8:58 as I made my way into downtown Newport News, joined now by the half-marathon runners and 8K runners.  The excitement of finishing strong, with runners around me and spectators on the sidelines (for a change), the closing sequence of "2001 > Wading in the Velvet Sea > Meatstick" to end the Phish show that had been playing my ears for two days and...holy moly...beating yesterday's time by two minutes...led me to make my last mile an 8:18.  Mile 26 was not only my fastest of the race, but the fastest since mile four of Ellerbe!

Fun signs from locals in mile 23 - "Go random stranger, go!",  "May the course be with you", "Smile, remember you paid to do this" and "Run like zombies are chasing you."

Passing by Newport News Shipbuilding in mile 25
My final time was 3:48:36.  I was elated.  Overjoyed.  Beside myself.  And sore.  All worth it.  Two marathons in two states in two days, and they were not even my two slowest marathons ever, either.

Post-race party in the park in downtown Newport News
At 45 years old, with no more desire to attempt a personal record, I managed to set and reach a new, different goal.  That is what keeps this sport exciting - there are always new ways to approach it.  The only question...what next?

Me, triumphant, with beer

Sunday, March 8, 2020

Ellerbe Marathon - Ellerbe, NC - Feb. 29, 2020

"Why are you texting me from a marathon???" wrote my friend, Ali, after I sent her a message while I was in the 25th mile of the Ellerbe Marathon. A good question, since texting is not exactly a typical activity during a marathon.

But my experience on the beautiful, sunny and perfectly chilly race morning in Ellerbe, North Carolina, was not typical. Even as my leg muscles were literally twitching because they were so ready to blast off and send me soaring through my 23rd marathon, I had to keep reminding myself, "The training was not for this race, it was for tomorrow." 

For 12 weeks, I did track intervals, hill sprints, tempo runs and, most importantly, lots and lots of miles - maxing out at 64 in my peak week, which included 19 on Saturday and 23 on Sunday.

On this race day, though, the hardest work would be restraint - holding back and saving it for the next day, when I planned on running the second of two sub-four-hour marathons in two states in two days.

So, with only 99 other marathon runners and 75 half-marathon runners lined up on Page Street in the tiny town of Ellerbe - along with a handful of spectators, like my wife (bless her heart for driving us there from New Jersey the day before) - I started the race as slowly as possible.

By the time I finished the first mile (8:04), I was already in the country, with lots of open space and not much more.

Because both races would be relatively small affairs (this one, especially), I had a plan to listen to music. In honor of the 20th anniversary of the massive midnight-to-sunrise set that Phish played on 12/31/1999, I thought it would be perfect to break up the seven-and-a-half hour set over the two days. Adding some padding in the front with the clock ticking and the "Meat Stick" gag, and at the end with "Here Comes the Sun", it was possible to time it perfectly.

"Meatstick" kicked in after mile two (8:18) and "Auld Lang Syne" hit at mile three (7:51) as some uphill work began during the big "Down With Disease" jam.

The course was hilly, as expected, but certainly no more so than what I had been training on. In fact, I had to stop myself from giving in to my instinct of pushing up the hills. Taking small steps and keeping the energy expense to a minimum, I still ended up with a sub-8 in mile four (7:58). 

Just me, my shadow and two other runners in sight -  and this was only the fourth mile.
I controlled myself with an (8:27) for mile five and the slow incline through mile six (8:45). The uphill after a turn onto a road that led to a turnaround just after mile seven (8:48) helped me back off a bit. Rolling hills through miles eight, nine, and ten (8:19, 8:32, 8:33) led to the flat miles (8:26, 8:26, 8:33) into town and the finish line, where I would turn and do it all again.
The turnaround point in mile eight was in front of that church that seems to be in the middle of nowhere. 
Downhill after the turnaround in mile eight

A long, quiet road ahead into mile nine
Mile 10 with no one in sight
More cows than runners in sight in mile 10
Again, restraint was the name of the game - go only fast enough to get in under four hours. That meant a 9:00 pace, but there I was at the halfway mark about eight minutes under two hours, an 8:30 pace.
For the first time in a marathon, I was happy that the upcoming hills and inevitable fatigue would slow me down in the second half. That, plus taking pictures; and texting my wife, my mom, and my friends. Anything to force me to slow down!

So, around the loop I went again, with even fewer other runners in sight. Sometimes none.

My splits were thankfully getting slower - 8:31, 8:45 and 8:58 in miles 14, 15, and 16. The 8:37 for mile 17 would be the fastest until the end as the rolling hills continued with 8:45, 9:13, 9:27, 8:45, 9:35 (mile 22 was the big one, with the road pitched at an ankle-busting angle, to boot) and 9:11 while the 20-minute "Sand -> Quadrophonic Toppling" jam played in my ears (and was exactly what I needed).
Coming up on mile 22
Mile 25

Finally heading back into town for the last three miles (9:06, 8:55, 9:11), I felt good about having slowed my pace enough to make the back half of the race an even two hours. I crossed the finish line with a 3:50:27, just as "Slave to the Traffic Light" was peaking in my ears - the halfway point in the all-night set.
Texting my Phish fan friend, Ali, during Mile 25
Gloria commented that I had never walked so well immediately after a race, and she was correct. That must have meant that I saved enough for the next day. Mission accomplished, then.

I collected my medal, had a bite to eat, did some stretches, and went back to the Ellerbe Springs Inn to shower. An hour after finishing the race, I was in the car (with Gloria behind the wheel again) and on the way to Newport News, Virginia, for the marathon that was to begin in a mere 18 hours.

Saturday, February 22, 2020

Marathons XXII and XXIII

Money is tight these days, so how do I continue my quest to run a marathon in every state?

Do two in one weekend.  That saves a lot on travel expenses.

I have heard of the Marathon Maniacs doing multiple races in bordering states in a weekend, but those folks are doing leisurely five-hour-plus races.  I want to do each of my marathons in less than four hours while I am still able.  So tackling two in one weekend is a big undertaking.

But how do I train for it?

I decided to follow Hal Higdon's Advanced I Marathon training program, but with one alteration.  Instead of my Saturday runs amounting to half the distance of my Sunday long runs, the tactic has been to gradually (but swiftly) increase them to being more than three-quarters, except on the "step back" weeks, during which both the Saturday and Sunday runs are 13 miles. 

As the mileage grows this gets a lot more difficult, but I figure it will be only way to condition my body for this feat.  Running 20 miles is tough enough on an average training day.  Doing 20 miles the day after running 17 miles requires a whole other strategy.

For one, it is absolutely imperative on Saturdays to take my runs much more slowly than normal.  Instead of a mid-7s pace, Saturdays would be done at low 8s.  That allows me to have the energy to muster up some low- to mid-8s on Sunday.  Because the goal is to do sub-four-hour races, it is imperative that I do not get too close to a 9:00 pace.  That is the ceiling for the race days and I want it to be as comfortable as possible.  If I can crank out low- to mid-8s in training, then high-8s should be a cake walk at the races.

But then, maybe not.  Who knows?  This is all foreign territory and I am making it up as I go.  

One thing is for sure, though.  I am registered for two races in two states in two days and I am determined to make it happen.  If I succeed in running each of them in less than four hours, I will be only one future similar weekend from the halfway point to the 50<4 club.