The Blue Blaze Beckons

This Saturday is the 15th running of the Buckeye Trail 50K, a rugged trail endurance run out and back on approximately 16 of the 1,444 miles of Ohio’s Buckeye Trail. Painted blue blazes mark the way, and have become a welcome sight on training runs I’ve done there over the past month.

The race began as an informal, low-key type run and has evolved into a popular event now organized by Vertical Runner. This year’s installment sold out early at 175 entrants. 

Group training runs on segments of the course have been beneficial and, I believe, will allow for a more relaxed race day. As I explore trail running and ultra-running, I know I have so much more to learn, but thanks to practice and great instruction from more experienced runners am starting to get the hang of the differences in running technique, pacing, and fueling. There are a lot of times when I feel awkward and wobbly, but also increasing sections where I find a groove and feel like I’m (slowly) dancing over the dirt and roots. Either way, I love the sights, sounds, smells, and peaceful feeling of trail running, and know I will keep seeking trail time well after tomorrow.

It looks like race day will offer a relatively fast, dry trail, but the added challenge of a hot day. I’m as ready as I can be save for the threat of a cold, and looking forward to putting all the new skills I’ve been practicing to the test.

Text And The Trail

Forty minutes into the woods, well before the planned turn-around point, I abruptly stopped in front of this. Four days earlier, it was soft creek bed with a shallow puddle here and there. Easily passable.

To my neophyte trail-running self, I was now poised in front of the raging, rushing River Styx.

My first impulse was, “OK, adjust plans. Go back 40 minutes to the start and either do a shorter out and back from there repeating this section, or continue for a bit on the next section of the 50K course.”

Immediately, I questioned that. I don’t know much about traversing trails, but I do know that my default is to be overly cautious on them and that I am not naturally nimble. Just a few years ago I busted open both knees when I tripped on the pancake-flat, smooth, easily navigable C & O Towpath. My rear end still has a faint bruise from a spill I took on a much less challenging trail in January.

I wondered what my more experienced ultrarunning friends and mentors like Lloyd and Meredith would do. It occurred to me that I could ask. I pulled out my phone, snapped a photo, and beamed it over to Lloyd.

“Am I supposed to cross this?!?”

“Yes! Don’t wash away.”

“Uhh … here goes nothing.”

I talk to myself a lot on the trail, and launched into a motivational monologue. “OK … you’re just going to do this. Pretend you’re at the beach wading through the surf. This is part of trail running. You might have to do this in the race. What is the worst that could happen? You slip and ruin your cell phone. Hmm, that would be really inconvenient. I hope that doesn’t happen. I won’t let that happen!”

With the new mission to preserve my phone, I plunged a leg into the calf-high creek. It wasn’t deep, but the water was moving and I couldn’t see what I was putting my feet into. Tentatively and slowly, I wobbled across, letting my feet explore the rocks and holes as if they had eyes. I pictured a great photo taken of Lloyd mid-creek during his successful 100-mile run attempt. He strides confidently, leaning forward, his skilled posture announcing, “I am parting these waters!”

Then I tried to picture how I looked at that moment. Unsure, unbalanced, with arms and fingers splayed out Karate Kid-style for balance, as if I could grab the air to steady myself. Had I not been concentrating so hard on avoiding a spontaneous swim, I would have laughed out loud at the image.

A few hesitant steps later, my feet reappeared before me on the wet, muddy bank.

My phone had survived the crossing bone dry, so I pried it out of my shorts pocket to let Lloyd know of my safe passage. I tried to sound nonchalant.

“Not so bad.”

Having got my feet wet with water crossings, there was nothing else to do but continue forward.

‘08 is Still Great!

Tuesday marked the mid-point of 2008 and the six-month anniversary of this nook of the Internet I like to call my cyberspot. Riding a high of accomplishing a two-year running goal and a reunion of sorts with myself, I intended to infuse extra positive momentum and great expectations into 2008. From its beginning, In The Distance was a little part of that plan. It’s been even more satisfying and fun than I imagined to record the days here, and I appreciate that a few people have taken time to read and comment.

Looking back to the start of the year, I feel like I have been reborn into an emerging new world of deepening friendship, travel to unfamiliar locations, my first Boston Marathon and ultramarathon distance completed, and fund-raising and professional goals met.

Running-wise, since Boston I’ve barely had a run I was happy with performance- and pace-wise, and races have been mediocre at best in terms of finish time. I won’t pretend I wear such deeply-shaded rose-colored glasses that I’m ignorantly blissful of this, but I believe frustration and self-criticism only compound a slump. After two years of almost singular goal-work and improvement a lull is natural, and I am practicing patience and consistent mileage as I look forward to another growth period. Moving forward at a slightly slower pace is still infinitely preferable to not being able to participate.

I dream of a satisfying effort in a difficult trail 50K in *gulp* two weeks, and switching gears to cover distances faster again this fall. Occasionally I let myself fantasize about moving forward for many more miles, both in one single run and for decades. I will focus on the combination of self-care and a little luck to be so fortunate.

At work, I’ll begin a new position in a few short weeks. Between relocating and teaching three new courses fall semester at a new-to-me college, I anticipate being almost as busy as when I started in the classroom full-time four years earlier. Thankfully, I have those years under my belt to help. Experience has taught me that you can’t begin to know a place without living there, but I am optimistic that I am heading in the right direction both geographically and culturally.

Although it always feels great to get on the mat, my physical yoga practice is probably the least frequent and weakest it has been in half a decade. I am beyond excited to be moving somewhere with several good yoga studios within walking distance instead of an hour’s drive away. On the other hand, I’ve been blessed to experience the mental benefits of regular meditation practice. They are immeasurably helpful during situations that previously would have tested my empathy and admittedly limited patience.

Even with the gifts of yoga and good fortune, I’m far from perfect. That’s not the point. But in case this entry is taking on the tone of a holiday brag letter, suffice to say there are several areas where I currently lack needed discipline and continue to look for answers.

Most importantly of all, I aspire to end 2008 feeling I’ve contributed my best each day, and closer to cherished ones in every sense of the word. My best intentions remain fixed on that.

Running in Hell

My true feelings for the small eastern North Carolina community I’ve inhabited for nearly four years have ranged from private loathing to precariously negotiated contentment. Though I’ve always tried to make the best of being somewhere where a healthy, progressive way of being is by default a radically alternative lifestyle, I’ve never embraced the local culture. Truthfully, I never thought it worth it the effort and internal change required for that to happen.

With my time here waning, I experienced a realization: This really, truly is Hell.

The epiphany arrived with an unseasonable heat wave earlier this week. “It’s 99 in the shade,” isn’t an exaggerated cliche. Additionally, when the wind shifts just so it delivers smoke and haze from a 30,000-acre wildfire contained but still smoldering 45 minutes south. It’s as if the fire and brimstone ever-threatened from the pulpits of un-airconditioned Southern Baptist churches has finally arrived to punish us for all our evil-doings.

What’s a would-be ultramarathoner to do about the torrid conditions? Run in them — but with modifications and precautions. Here’s how I kept from getting too hot and bothered.

Beat the heat.Finding the most temperate conditions meant getting started by 6 a.m. and finishing before the sun rose too high. As pre-dawn activity isn’t my true nature, I traded one comfort zone for another. It was more than worth it.

Slowed down and drank up. In heat and humidity, I’m good at my usual training paces for an hour, tops. I gave myself permission to ignore pace and run by feel, always finding a comfortable effort. Though speed decreased, the frequency of needing liquid increased significantly. Carrying water or stashing refreshing bottles of melting frozen Gatorade to sip from quenched my thirst.

Searched for shade. The neighborhood where I live has no shade and plenty of baking pavement. Not ideal. The extra time and effort to drive to a tree-lined section of town and nature trails near the breezier coast paid off. I still felt the sweaty weight of saturated air, but never had the sensation of being too hot. Thank you trees!

Sought motivation.If pushing through humidity ever started my mind grumbling, I reminded myself that no one makes me run, and the ability is a privilege. I thought of runners who complete the inferno-like Badwater Ultramarathon. I thought of soldiers in Vietnam, Afghanistan, and Iraq, letter carriers, and laborers, for whom making a living requires being active in any conditions. I looked ahead to when safe training in heat will provide an additional increase in fitness.

Treated myself to the treadmill. One day I pampered myself on the treadmill with built-in fan and satellite radio in the climate-controlled YMCA. The relief of not having to deal with sticky conditions translated into a grateful, super-charged run. It was more like going to the spa for eight miles.

Reviewed information about running in hot weather. It’s potentially life-saving to follow these practices and recognize signs of heat illness. I stayed mindful to the typical symptoms I experience when overheated: chills, nausea, and cramping.

Temperatures above 75 degrees Fahrenheit will never be ideal for performing an activity that raises the body’s temperature. But with time and safety practices, the amazing human body will adjust. After all, people have lived and run comfortably in the Middle East and Southern Hemisphere for thousands of years. I aim to follow in their footsteps.

If you’ve got a tried-and-true method of keeping your cool, please add it in a Comment.

Week of May 12-18

Looking back at this week, I feel like a slacker. That seems silly when the average person gets less than the minimum recommended 30 minutes of physical activity per day, but I can only compare me to me. Maybe it was the school year ending, a natural time for catching the breath, but I wasn’t motivated to do anything outside my training and YMCA teaching schedules, except for one pilates practice at home. I know if I’d jumped in the pool, done some yoga postures (I do meditate every day), or lifted a weight or two, I would have felt the benefits … but I wasn’t motivated this week.

Well, I did go for two walks. Walks? I love to walk in my pretty neighborhood, and it’s activity, but doesn’t get my heart rate up. Mainly I walk for the enjoyment of being outside in gorgeous weather.

It’s natural and healthy to take a breather now and then in any kind of pursuit. However, if I don’t mix it up and tighten up in a few areas, I’ll be heading into what feels like inertia to me. Even we self-starting types need a kick in the butt sometimes!

May 12-18

Monday –  5 easy (treadmill)

Tuesday — Taught pilates; 2.75 mile walk

Wednesday —  8 (treadmill) with 3 X 1 mile cruise intervals (8:00 m/m); Taught Spinning class

Thursday —  6 easy (road)

Friday – Home pilates practice; Taught Spinning class

Saturday — 5K race (23:36), 3 more miles easy (road); 3 mile walk

Sunday — 10 easy (road)

Totals:  ~  35 miles running, 6 miles walking, 2 cross training workouts, 2 pilates practices

Good stuff: I got to do some “fast” for me running and felt good doing it. Tempo pace felt comfortably hard like it should, and I seem to be the consistent in terms of 5K fitness as I was in February and last September.

 

Stuff to keep an eye on: Confession time. I have pretty much been eating whatever I want since Boston. That is still a lot healthier than the “average American” as I don’t really like junk food or fast food, but it won’t get me back in the weight range that I feel best for running. Smaller portions and a little more focus will. My clothes still fit, so I’m not that far off!

Goals for the week: Be especially careful nutrition-wise while traveling. Enjoy running in some new and favorite places, with new and favorite running buddies.

Boston in Pictures

The Boston Marathon is about more than the 26.2 miles to cover on Patriot’s Day morning. This year’s running was extra eventful, with the women’s US Olympic Team marathon trials on Sunday. For a first-timer like me, it seemed I was discovering a new special memory throughout the four days I spent in Beantown. Here are a few images of some of my favorite experiences:

Saturday

After picking up race packets and resisting temptation to oversplurge in the colossal “runners’ mall,” Lloyd and I positioned ourselves ahead of winner Robert Cheruiyot at the race Expo. 

I spent a little time scoping the Finish area on Boylston Street.

Sunday

Watching the women race was motivating and inspiring.

Monday

One of the highlights of the marathon was seeing my cheering section halfway through.

Celebrating at one of Boston’s many Irish pubs.

Tuesday

My cousin’s daughters thought the Finisher medals were pretty cool, especially the unicorn logo.

A final stop in Boston was the Bill Rodgers Running Company, where we got training tips for next time from the store’s founder and four-time Boston Marathon winner.

 

 

 

Welcome to Boston

The sign, one of dozens in the Logan Airport baggage claim area, says it all.  From the moment my plane landed Saturday morning, I have felt like a guest of honor in Boston.  Last night my friend Lloyd and I ran the last couple miles of the course and received enthusiastic “Good Luck!” cheers from some Red Sox fans on the way to Fenway Park. Those well wishes have been echoed by store clerks, race expo workers, and fellow runners, many of whom resemble members of a special club with their regal-looking Boston Marathon jackets from past years.

Already, I am losing count of the special sights and small thrills. We can see the famous “1 mile to go” neon Citgo sign from the hotel.  This morning I was inspired by watching the Women’s Olympic Trials marathon race, seeing beautiful, dedicated, and gifted athletes make running a 2:30 marathon look like a relaxed jog. I ran through historic and scenic Boston Common and browsed marathon history in Bill Rodgers Running Company. Best of all is sharing everything with the company of fellow runners and friends. I almost keep forgetting there’s a little starting line in Hopkinton I’m due on tomorrow, but that’s probably good for pre-race nerves.

Please make yourself welcome to join me on the marathon course Monday morning. The Boston Marathon website will post results after the race and feature a link to live athlete tracking during the event. Anyone who wants to check my progress can search for me by name or Bib number, 17613. My start time is 10:30 a.m. EST and if the Internet tracking site works, updates should post at various checkpoints of the course.

Time to get my race gear laid out, then head out for one more serving of pasta.

I’m ready.

Thank to everyone who’s followed, encouraged, and supported me by dropping in to my blog over the past few months. I can’t wait to come back and share my day with you.

How Much Baggage Does One Person Need for a 13.1 Mile Trip?

One advantage of running compared to other sports that’s frequently given lip service is “It’s simple. You just need a pair of shoes.”

I don’t know who says that and what they are smoking. Obviously they’ve never packed for a destination race. Especially one with a wild and variable forecast, like tomorrow’s Shamrock Sportsfest half and full marathons.

As I write this post, I’m about to finish preparations for an overnight in Virginia Beach. Running shoes may be at the top of my packing list, but they’re only the beginning. Here’s the unabridged version:

• Newer running shoes
• Backup pair of shoes in case anything happens
• Two tank tops, because I’m not sure what one I’ll want to wear
• Short-sleeve technical shirt in case I don’t want to wear a tank
• Long-sleeve technical shirt just in case I want that
• Windbreaker jacket
• Running shorts
• Capri-length tights in case I don’t want to wear shorts
• Two pairs socks in case anything happens to one
• Sports bra
• Hat
• Gloves
• Watch
• Throwaway shirt (for cool weather) and garbage bag (for rainy weather) in case I want to wear either before the race starts.
• Body Glide to prevent chafing
• Sunscreen
• During-race fuel (Gu)
• Pre-race breakfast (instant oatmeal packets and peanut butter, plus bowl and spoon)
• Post-race refueling items
• Camera
• Plus the usual stuff a non-running person would bring for an overnight trip (pajamas, change of clothes, toothbrush, etc.)

We runners may want to tread lightly but as you see, that requires considerable overpacking!

Extreme Makeover: Runners’ Feet Edition

This is not a post for the Meek at Heart or Weak of Stomach.

Below, hopefully far enough below to require considerable scrolling down, are images of Before, During, and After a recent pedicure.

I confess: It had been more than six months since my last pedicure. In that time I had trained for and run a Boston-qualifying marathon, no small feat for a couple of feet. Proud of the marathon result but too embarassed by the resulting traumatized toes to seek professional help, I attempted to keep my feet fit for public viewing with regular home maintenance. It got to be so labor-intensive that this barefoot Pilates and yoga instructor transcended her vanity and just let things go for a while. But when I discovered that one of my new yoga students is a nail technician, I took a chance to see if she’d take on my tootsies.

The resulting pampering was relaxing and educational. I learned:

• A pedicure should be regarded as a regular health maintenance treatment, rather than a luxury. Hmm, any chance my health insurance will start covering the service? As Wayne and Garth would say, “As if!”
• To stop cutting around my callouses with a nail clipper (like I said, not for the Weak of Stomach), and use a pumice often rather than infrequently hacking away with a cheese-grater type tool. Those things apparently make the skin vulnerable and not able to do its job of protecting.
• That I have particularly small and challenging toenails. Tell me about it! At least I have all 10 again; after my last marathon I was down by half.
• Random local gossip, including why one of the other health clubs in town suddenly closed. But that’s what you’re supposed to get at a salon visit, right?

If you’ve read this far, my wish is that you’ve summoned courage to forge onward. Without further ado, have at ‘em!

March Momentum

From the moment I flipped my calendar to March, I could sense the rhythm of my days picking up speed. It’s as if time started to stir from the lull of January and February, blinking its sleepy eyes and sniffing for food after hibernating.

With a couple months of mainly quiet weekends behind, I’m looking forward to all but one booked-up weekend between this one and the end of April. And I mean looking forward in the most joy-filled way possible. All the dates involve time to connect with special people, and most include new running adventures waiting to be had at Shamrock Sportsfest, Umstead 100-mile Endurance Run (which I am spectating and crewing, not running), and of course, Boston! I feel very fortunate to be poised before so many potential memories to share with others. At the same time I must remind myself to stay patiently in the present to get the most out of every day, rather than wishing and waiting for the next extra-good time to start.

At work, the students and I reached the midterm point in the semester. I facilitated an online course the first eight weeks that already ends in a few days. Between that and spring break in just two weeks, the term already feels like it’s winding down.

From what evidence I’ve gathered in my 3 1/2 years in Northeastern North Carolina, early spring brings the windiest conditions.  This is a boost for the many sailors who dock and and depart from the town’s well-known Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway harbor. We runners don’t always have the same appreciation for gusting air. Pushing into strong winds is very fatiguing physically and mentally, but the upside is gains in strength — as well as the fun tailwinds that we get to ride when we turn around!

On the home front conditions are shifting, too. After an honest look at my budget and how I prefer to use my resources, paired with a long-standing desire to downsize, I rented a smaller, more affordable place to live beginning next month. Essentially, I’ll be transitioning a small two-bedroom home to a large efficiency that includes ample storage room. Undoubtedly there will be times in the next couple weeks when, bogged down in details and stuff, I’ll question this decision if not my sanity. But the end result of a simplified life, freed-up finances, and lighter, much more mobile load will be worth the temporary pain.

Yes, it’s time to set the sails to work against a stiff breeze for a bit. With the forecast for wind at my back right ahead, who knows how far and where I’ll be able and lucky to enjoy the resulting ride?