David Halberstam (1934-2007)

I saw this on the web just a few minutes ago, and it floored me. I'm sure that there are more detailed obits out there than this one from MLB, but it was the first one that I came to, and I need to get some sleep before Nashville.

Halberstam was the author of many wonderful, well-researched works of popular history. Although I read The Teammates and liked it, I particularly enjoyed and recommend The Fifties as both a good, accessible history of the decade and a good introduction to the work of this late, great American journalist.

Nine Days to Nashville

I don't have much to say about VA Tech that hasn't already been said -- except that my niece, who graduated two years ago, was in the marching band with the guy who was shot in the dorm. With all the coverage that this has gotten -- including the crass, ghastly repeated airing of this twisted asshole's "manifesto" on national TV -- there has been little mention of the sordid state of mental health care in the U.S., and not nearly enough of the apparent total absence of a comprehensive emergency response plan on campus. OK, maybe I did have a little something more to say ...

Anyway, it's nine days to the Nashville Marathon, and I'm hoping that the rainy forecast for next weekend changes. My wife is worried about running the race (her first marathon) but not about the logistics of getting there, packet pickup, hotel room, getting to the start, etc. I am worried about all that logistical crap, but not at all about the running, which I hope will combine the psychological satisfaction of finishing a marathon with a physical state similar to what I might expect upon finishing a particularly grueling half-marathon: fatigued, but able to move well enough to get around without a struggle. We'll see. As of now, I'm feeling good, reasonably fit, not too bloated, and ready for a 5-mile tune-up at the Earth Day races this Saturday.

Am I ready?
I officially began my taper for Nashville last weekend, but I did my last set of Yassos this morning. the workout went OK, but I didn't feel as good as I'd hoped to feel. The weather was 65 degrees and humid, and I was wearing a tight UnderArmor shirt that I wasn't used to; but running those last 2-3 reps was pretty tough. My goals at Nashville are to finish respectably (4:10-4:15) and not feel like a walking corpse afterward. Since a 4:12 would be 15 minutes slower than my marathon PR, I think that I can meet both those goals -- if I have done enough miles and enough tempo. My long runs -- two 18s and a 16 -- have not been as long as I usually like to stretch them for marathon training. I've done four sets of Yasso 800s since January, plus one long tempo of 5 miles, several shorter tempos, a half-marathon and a 10-mile race, three 5Ks, a 10K, and a handful of pace runs. My highest-mileage week was 39. Not optimal marathon training, by any means; but it will be enough to get me to the finish if I pace myself appropriately. The real question is: how will I feel afterward?

Not a Bad Weekend, Part II

At 1:55 p.m., as the elite milers filed onto the track to warm up, temperatures had barely climbed over 40, and 15-20-mph. winds enveloped the complex. All across the edge of the football parctice field behind the bleachers lay improvised pallets of tarps and gear, upon which high-school and collegiate track athletes sat huddled in blankets. I was in the bleachers just above the finish line, layered in a long-sleeve t-shirt, a short-sleeve t-shirt, and a hooded windbreaker, and was freezing my ass off. It was not the best weather for a mile race, to say the least. The wind appeared to die down a little as 2:00 crept closer, but as the runners were introduced, it began to gust again in earnest.

Still, there was hope. I had seen Webb seemingly coast to sub-4 finishes throughout the indoor season, and knew that even though he had been criticized for not having a kick, he did indeed have an extra gear that he saved for the last lap, and rarely did it not work for him.

The gun sounded, and they were off. For about ten seconds. Then the action stopped. I had my eye on Webb, who had already rounded the bend and was starting into the back stretch. when I looked back down the track, I saw that one of the outside runners -- the rabbit, in fact -- had gone down in the turn. The runners were called back, and a hush fell on the crowd. Not good, I thought, not good at all. But as Webb ambled back to the start, I noticed that he had a big grin on his face. He must know something the rest of us don't, I thought.

The race restarted, clean this time, with the rabbit out front and Webb right on his heels. They were running well, working hard, but the splits were not great: a 59-second 1st lap, 1:00 flat 2nd; then, as I had seen happen so often before, the rabbit peeled off and Webb took off -- just not as fast as I had seen him do before. As he approached the bell lap, the clock crept up to 3:00. Again, not good. But as he began his last lap, Webb cocked his head slightly toward the crowd and raised his right had to his ear. The crowd, already cheering loudly, went bonkers. Clearly he knew that he had it. Then came the extra gear. Fwooosh... 26 seconds for the next 200. Then the wind hit, and his stride slowed a bit, but by that time it was all but a done deal. "He's got it," I exclaimed to my wife. The intense roar built to a crescendo as he snapped the tape at 3:57:83, a new SC record and the only sub-4:00 mile that this writer has ever witnessed.

Not a Bad Weekend

It's not often that one gets to drive a couple of miles up the street and watch athletic history being made. But I got to do just that yesterday.

The day began with the Furman 5K, which last year was held in 75-degree weather that made me forget all about that sub-22 PR that I had trained for and planned on running that day, and to settle instead for a woozy, miserable finish in 23:48. This year it was over 40 degrees cooler than last year at start time, with a stiff breeze that sometimes gusted to 20 mph. Fortunately, though, the usual course, which begins with a 1/8-mile uphill grind, was altered due to the heavy traffic generated by the high school meet going on at the track. I had run that course -- which is pretty much flat for the first 2 miles -- before in two races, with similar results: 23:29 and 23:28, respectively. Yesterday I ran it in 23:30. At least I'm consistent.

Normally I would have left the race satisfied and gone on with my day. But this was no ordinary Saturday. Afterward, my wife and I rushed home, took showers, ate lunch, and went back out to the Furman track to watch the rest of the high school meet and the Blue Shoes Mile. One of my wife's students was running in the open mile, and an elite mile, featuring Alan Webb and several other runners capable of breaking four minutes, was scheduled for 2:00. There were several regional track legends and a few nationally-known runners in attendance, including Amby Burfoot, who ran in the 5K and then turned in a 5:53 mile with what looked like ease, although he later complained about both times in his blog.

There were lots of people running the Blue Shoes open mile, 8 heats in all. By 1:55 seven of them had been run, and the last and fastest was to take place in tragically anticlimactic fashion after the elite mile, which would begin as promised at 2:00. I'd love to tell you about it, but it's getting late and I've got to go back to work tomorrow. I'll try to post it tomorrow evening.

Running is Simple: Saturday Night Bullet Points

 Of of the things I like about running is that it's simple. Why? Let's see how many ways come to mind in the twenty minutes I have allotted myself to do this post before I have to go rest up for my long run tomorrow. Go:

• All you really need is a pair of shorts and some sturdy shoes made for running. All the rest is icing on the cake.
• You don't have to drive hundreds of miles.
• You don't have to mount anything on a vehicle.
• You don't have to rent anything.
• You don't have to pack a lot of stuff into a bag or backpack (although some of us often do).
• Unless you own a pair of spikes, you don't need tools to maintain any of your gear.
• You don't have to reserve a tee time, a court, a lane, or a field.
• You don't need a team, a squad, a party, a foursome, or even a partner.
• You don't have to learn any plays.
• There are no barriers of entry to competition and no age ceiling at which one is expected to retire. You register, pay the fee, get your packet, show up, and run. That's all.

Time's up. I got ten, huh? Cool. Just goes to show how easy it is.

This wasn't the best morning for a long run. The temps were near freezing and a light frost covered the ground when I left the house this morning at 7:00, with the sky still dark and nothing yet stirring except the neighbors' restless dogs, my wife (who had gone out ahead of me to do her 19) and me.

Perhaps a little background would be helpful: somehow, at sometime late last year, my wife managed to talk me into doing the Nashville Marathon this April 28, despite my aversion to out-of-town marathons and a busy schedule of local races this Spring. Perhaps it was the holiday stress that caused me to cave; but tracing the source is kind of useless at this point, as we are already registered and have hotel rooms booked near the finish line. I have not had time to train sufficiently to meet the goal I would most likely set for myself in a marathon at this point, which is breaking four hours. This is only the first of two that I will be running this year -- the other is on Kiawah Island in December -- so I have no problem just running this one to finish. I have had little time to train for a time goal due to the aforementioned race schedule, which has already been altered substantially (I had to miss a 5k that I usually run Sat. in order to get my 18 in this morning, and will have to drop down to the 8k that accompanies a half-marathon that I usually run on Earth Day), so the modest goal that I have set for myself is to finish between 4:10 and 4:15. If I feel good, I may try for a sub-four; but I feel no pressure to do it, other than the knowledge that my time will be published in my local paper for all the other local runners to take not of my sluggishness. But that is a minor aggravation, insufficient to motivate me to risk injury and exhaustion to log a PR in my first out-of-town marathon, on a course that I have already been warned is hilly as hell.

So that's where I am now as a runner: distracted during the Spring running season by a marathon I didn't really want to do, and making plans for a Summer of base training, weightlifting, reflection, and preparation to come back stronger in the Fall.

Back to that marathon, the one that I didn't want to do: I got 18 miles in this morning, which means that I have done what I consider to be the basic preparation for doing the full 26.2. So far this year I have done several runs of 13 and over -- including a tough half-marathon, a 16, and today's 18. Plus, I have done one set of Yassos in each of the past 3 months -- the last one this past Wednesday -- and may do one or two more. My point -- to myself more than to anyone else -- is that even if I don't do any more long runs, I am OK to finish. That takes a lot of pressure off of me in the next three weeks, and allows me to do some more creative training, such as shorter (13-15 mi.) marathon-pace runs, long tempos, hill work, and track work. I am going to keep my miles up these next three weeks, regardless of how I run them, and I may well do another long run or two; but now that I have an 18 in the bag, I have that kind of flexibility, and that is a great source of relief.

Going Long

I don't remember when I last posted, and I don't think it wise to go back and look at my last entry now that I'm actually writing. It has been too long since I last had the time and mental energy to devote to this blog, as I am at the tail end of one of the busiest six-week periods I have experienced in some time. But things have eased up a bit this weekend, as I have neither a race nor a pressing deadline. I celebrated this morning by going for a 16-mile long run, from which I am presently recovering by putting back as much glycogen and water as I can.

It was a good day to run this morning, temps in the 50s and cloudy with no wind, comfortable enough that I wore a cotton t-shirt and didn't have to ditch it before I was done. I felt OK afterward, not wiped out like I am used to feeling after those long summer runs getting ready for a Fall marathon. Training for a marathon in the Spring is definitely different -- in a good way. There were many long runs last Summer that ended with me staggering into the house and lying on the cold floor for 5-10 min. before I could even stretch. It's hard to avoid the heat in South Carolina in the summertime, no matter how early you get up.

Yet since I last posted on this blog, I have endured some extreme weather of a different kind trying to get in workouts. There was the morning of Jan. 31, when I did a 20-min. tempo run on the track in zero-degree wind chill, a slushy 2 miles in the neighborhood the day after (cut short when my Mizuno Riders got hopelessly soaked in the puddles), and the set of Yasso 800s I ran in 25-degree weather on the same track in early February; and the numerous tempo runs, reps, and easy afternoon 4-milers in cold, driving arctic wind. The weather on race days, on the other hand, has been fantastic: sunny and around 40 for the Downtown 5k; unusually sunny and warm (mid 50s -- too warm for the shirt I wore) at the Green Valley 10-mile, and a windy but beautiful morning for the Reedy River 10k.

Things are looking really good for the next several weeks before Nashville. I'm going to skip one of the two 5ks that I normally do in March and April, and use the other for a time trial. I'm going to drop to the 8k that accompanies the Earth Day half-marathon I usually run, which will be one week before the marathon.  The rest of the time I can spend building up miles, stretching out the long runs to at least 18 and maybe 20, and getting in a good taper the last 3 weeks. This one will not be for time, as it is my first out-of-town marathon, I will not be properly trained for a fast race, I don't want to screw myself up for other races, and I would like to make the 5+-hour drive home the next day in a state somewhat resembling ambulatory so as not to invoke pity at the inevitable bathroom stops. 

Various body parts have been screaming at me off and on: left achilles and shin, right glute, right foot occasionally -- but nothing that can't be managed with a little ice or an IcyHot sleeve -- or an ice bath like the one I just barely endured this morning. Ouch.

So from now until the second week in April, the emphasis is on miles, mostly easy ones, to build endurance. I'll throw in some hills, strides, tempo, some Yassos, but only one of those once a week. It's time to get serious about this 26.2 crap.

Winter Training Sucks (But It's Better than Summer Training)

This morning I did a 14-mile long run in 30-degree weather, which was easy compared to some of the workouts I've done lately. Almost all of them have been done in uncomfortable conditions, some of them unseasonably so for this part of the world and this time of year. There was the morning track workout I did the Wednesday after the Downtown 5k, a 20-min. tempo run with warmup and cool-down in near-zero-degree wind chill. Then there was the two-mile jaunt on the slushy streets of my neighborhood the following Friday (which admittedly, was fun except for the puddles of ice water that soaked my shoes and prompted me to cut the run short). And the three other tempo runs done in whipping wind and temps hovering far south of comfortable. This winter, I've had more runs during which I was forced to wear hats and layered clothing than the other three winters in which I have been a runner put together.

Lately when we've gotten severe winter weather like this (and ours hasn't been nearly as severe as the weather in the northeast and midwest), some people have cited it as evidence that global warming is not real, when it is actually yet another symptom of global warming. What it seems like we have gotten this year is three months' worth of winter packed into a month, as the warm currents from the Pacific managed to keep all that arctic air bottled up for weeks on end, until finally the dam burst and it all came spilling south.

But enough amateur meteorology. Training in winter sucks, but I'll still take it over summer training anytime. I'd much rather deal with an itchy head under a wool cap, wrestling with the buttons on my GPS with gloved fingers, and downing cold gel packs left on my front porch to chafing, the sickening squish of sweat-soaked shoes, and that nasty woozy feeling at the end of an 18-mile run done in 80-degree weather despite getting up at dawn to escape the worst of the heat. No, this is better, hands down.

Stones in My Passway

I have found over the years that the only way to overcome writer’s block is to start writing – to get something, anything, down on the page and worry about cleaning it up (and making it make sense) later. So with no promises as to how diligently I will tackle the cleanup, I am now writing again; and although this is supposed to be a multi-topic blog, and the last several articles have focused upon running, running is what I feel like writing about now, and that’s what I will write about.

Much has taken place since my last entry. The 5k that I had hoped to PR two Saturdays ago didn’t turn out too well, at least not in terms of finishing time. The event drew around 1,600 runners and walkers this year, including many people who rarely or never enter races and thus know very little about race etiquette. Many walkers and slower runners were lining up toward the front of the pack, and efforts to direct people into the proper position for their expected pace were too little, too late. By the time we in position, I found myself about 50 feet behind the elites – not a good place to be in a race this size. Sure enough, the start was a creeping mass of humanity so dense that I would have expended as much energy trying to extricate myself from it early as I normally do in the entire first mile of a 5k. So I chose to cruise along with the crowd, picking my way through little by little until the pack opened up, and try to save up as much as possible for the latter half of the race. It took me a long way to get free – about half a mile, in fact, and as a result my first mile split was 8:19. I knew then that a PR would probably not be happening for me that morning, as it would have required 7-min. miles for the rest of the race, including the huge hill on Main St. in the last mile. So I adjusted, and set my sights on the secondary goal of 23:30.

I wasn’t exactly floating on air as I reached the halfway point, but I felt good enough, I thought, to beat that time. Then a couple of sharp turns and newly-installed street medians bottlenecked the pack of runners in front of me, forcing me to slow down and expend even more energy getting around them. I passed the 2-mile mark at just under 16 min. I can still beat last year’s abysmal time (23:55), I thought. At least my shoelaces had remained tied this year. Then I hit the hill, the only significant one in the race but a real killer, nearly a quarter-mile of moderately steep incline, that always left me tapped out at the finish. This year was no different in that regard. I brought myself back to a decent pace, about 7:25 according to my GPS, once I reached flat ground; but by that time, beating last year’s time would have required heroics that were beyond my capacity at that time. I crossed the mat at 24:15, muttering curses under my breath. On the positive side, I ran well. I’ve been working on my stride, and I could tell that it paid off, as I was nice and even until the hill wore me down. And while I was expecting to be faster after all that speedwork, upon checking my log afterward I realized that I may have done a little too much in too short a time.

 

But I have rambled too much about one race. It was a stumble, not a fall. As much as I hate excuses, I have to assign most of the blame for my slow time to the start, which was beyond my control. I ran well, but it wasn’t my day. At least it was fun, as such races almost always are. Plus, we got some nice long-sleeve tech shirts in our packets, and I’ve found that they do quite well in 45-degree weather. The bottom line is that this event, which started as a 10k and has seen an increase in participants each year since it became a 5k in 2002, has become more of a party than a race. And that’s fine. I have nothing against a good party, and there will be other chances to race.

More tomorrow. Maybe.