My Year Of Running
I can feel my body changing. Literally changing. Everyday there is a new revelation. Yesterday my ears popped out. They were just my normal ears, and then yesterday, I did a double take on them in the mirror. They look like Obama ears now, Will Smith ears. My face is getting close to its skeleton. Don’t worry, I think it is a good thing, my ears popping out. You see, on December 21, 2008, I started my Year of Running. Its November, 2009, and I went from casually running three times a week last year, to now, when I normally run six times a week and can log up to 75 miles over the course of that week.
Moreover, I know things. I know things about interval training, hill training, tempo runs, medium long runs, long runs, aerobic runs, fartleks, pyramids, and recovery jogs. I know the difference between dynamic and static stretching. I can run striders. I can tell you what I know, but then I read somewhere that one of the most boring social conversations involves explaining to someone what you did or where you went on a run, so I won’t do that. But believe me, I know things.
I race. During my year of running I ran a full marathon (26.2 miles). Subsequently, I have run three half marathons, two ten-kilometer races, one five-mile race, one five-kilometer race, and one extreme mountain endurance race, a seventeen mile torture fest, over a 13,000 foot mountain pass. There is no prize money, but, I have gotten much faster, and I’ll tell you something, I like being faster. For example, I used to run the odd race here and there, and finish squarely in the middle-of-the-pack. Today when I race, I even finish in the top ten sometimes, top three of my age group (twice), and finishing fast feels exceptionally fine. No offence to the happy-to-finish-crowd (I have been you after all), but the revelation of liking to be faster hit me during the Boulder Half Marathon, when I got to see all of your faces during the last six miles, because I was so far ahead of you at the turn-around point.
Perhaps now is a good spot for a confession; I might as well get the, ‘Yes, I turned 40 this year’ thing out of the way. All this running takes time. It takes a patient wife, a supportive three-year old son (well actually more than supportive since he comes to my races with a cowbell, and then likes to show everyone how he races too), and it takes more than a little self-awareness, that serious running is a selfish indulgence. I read somewhere that serious runners often lament how difficult it is to have relationships, jobs, and running all at the same time. Let me say, and I mean this as a message to all those serious runners, it sure helps if you have only two of those three things to worry about. Some may scoff, and say selfish indeed, yet, given this opportunity, wouldn’t most people embark on something like this if they could? Wait, don’t answer that, it was rhetorical, and I have more to present.
Captain Ahab pursued Moby Dick in the same way the casual-turned-serious runners dream of the Boston Marathon. To run in the Boston Marathon, you must qualify, and qualifying is not easy. You have to run a fast time, according to your age group, in another full marathon, during the year leading up to the Boston Marathon. The Boston Marathon is the oldest marathon in the United States. It is the best-run race, in the classic city, and everyone has heard of it. People ask about it too, as in, “Have you run Boston?” This question is often posed by the same type of people who ask about your newborn, “Does your baby sleep through the night?” Whether or not your baby sleeps through the night is an arbitrary standard of good parenting, and certainly whether or not you have run the Boston Marathon is a dubious distinction for anyone who just loves to run. Yet, for those of us, who want a bigger goal, a bucket-list-type challenge, Boston is definitely the Big-time.
I have an interesting relationship with this goal. My wife qualified for the Boston Marathon, back in her early 30’s, when she ran the perfect race during the Portland Marathon in 2004. Her qualifying standard was 3:40:59. She ran a 3:40:20 marathon, qualifying by 39 seconds. 39 seconds! The mind-blowing fact is that if she had run just two seconds slower per mile over the course of 26.2 miles she would have missed the cut-off. My time during that race was 4:14:25. Whenever running does come up, I tell everyone who will listen about this fact, and then sheepishly mention, that, “No, she never ran Boston, she never wanted to, it wasn’t her goal.” For me to qualify for the Boston Marathon I would need to run a 3:20:59 marathon. My personal record in the marathon is 3:52:30, so to qualify, I would need to run more than a half hour faster than my fastest time.
Running, of course, isn’t just about running faster, or achieving lofty, nearly impossible goals. It also feeds new obsessions, like the weather, as in ‘How can I run in a foot of snow?’ I live in Boulder, CO, a running Mecca. The Summer and Fall are perfect for running here, the skies are blue, the air temperature in the 60’s, and the altitude and hills present just the right challenges at 5200 feet in a gorgeous town nestled at the foothills of the Rockies. But then, right before Halloween, all that changed when a foot of snow got dumped on the ground, and all my running trails iced over. Ever since doing a 9 miler on the treadmill with too-cushy shoes (and having a week of knee pain that wierd-ed me out), I can't say that I have been very enthusiastic about treadmills. Just the other day, on a day of interval training, with grim anticipation, I ran slowly to the Boulder High Track, expecting it to be snowed over, which it was.... Yet, upon further inspection, I realized some diehard runner had come before me, shoveling a just-wide-enough foot-path all the way around the oval in lane one of the track. Hooray! You gotta love Boulder.
I mentioned above that I live in a running Mecca. A quick word about this, and this is where I will finish the Blog …. I recently ran the Denver Half Marathon, and Boulder resident, Frank Shorter, did the announcing from the finish line. FYI, Frank Shorter won the Olympic Gold and Silver medals in the marathon. He is a mythical running figure, and lately, it is just about every other day when I run north from my house that I run into the legend himself, out for his morning exercise. Recently one day, he looked like he was slowing to turn down a cul de sac, so I thought, 'if not today, when?', and ....
I said, "Hey Frank, I enjoyed your calls and commentary on Sunday at the Denver Marathon."
Frank Shorter said, "Yeah, did you come to watch or run?"
I said, "I ran the half marathon."
He said, "Yeah, what's your name? "
I told him
He said (slowly like he was going to remember next time), "That's an easy one to remember! What do you do?"
I said, "I'm a lawyer, sort of..."
He said, "Me too. But I don't practice law. Never did. Always, I have been a runner, or talking, or writing about the sport... I live right here in that house. Passed the Colorado bar, but let the license expire... too many CLE's. Plus who wants to give out advice about easements and such. No, I rather talk about running...."
I said, "Yeah, you are kind of responsible for all of us who like running, right? You know I saw that movie about Pre (Steve Prefontaine) that you and Charlie Jones played Olympic Commentators ...."
He said, "I learned a lot from Charlie. You need good advice as a commentator, whether at a local race or on broadcast television. He told me only talk about the stuff that is in front of you. The race I mean. Don't talk about who isn't there, all that other stuff is someone else's agenda..."
I said, "So is that why you can be so upbeat, like Sunday, about people who finish races so much slower than you?"
He said, "Yeah, exactly. We all love running. Everyone who does it. It doesn't matter how fast you are. Why not keep the focus on them? Their accomplishment... you know, when I was coming up, I was my own coach. We didn't have coaches for the marathon. So I was always a coach and a runner. Now I get to talk to all those runners, encourage them. Keep this great sport going. I kind of owe it to them."
Then I said, "So Frank, I'll just tell you, I'm trying to qualify for Boston this year for the first time.
He said, "What was your time Sunday?"
I said, "1:37:20 for the half."
Frank Shorter said, "And what standard are you trying to qualify under."
I said, "40 year olds and above, so 3:20."
Then Frank Shorter said, "Ahhh, you got it made."
Moreover, I know things. I know things about interval training, hill training, tempo runs, medium long runs, long runs, aerobic runs, fartleks, pyramids, and recovery jogs. I know the difference between dynamic and static stretching. I can run striders. I can tell you what I know, but then I read somewhere that one of the most boring social conversations involves explaining to someone what you did or where you went on a run, so I won’t do that. But believe me, I know things.
I race. During my year of running I ran a full marathon (26.2 miles). Subsequently, I have run three half marathons, two ten-kilometer races, one five-mile race, one five-kilometer race, and one extreme mountain endurance race, a seventeen mile torture fest, over a 13,000 foot mountain pass. There is no prize money, but, I have gotten much faster, and I’ll tell you something, I like being faster. For example, I used to run the odd race here and there, and finish squarely in the middle-of-the-pack. Today when I race, I even finish in the top ten sometimes, top three of my age group (twice), and finishing fast feels exceptionally fine. No offence to the happy-to-finish-crowd (I have been you after all), but the revelation of liking to be faster hit me during the Boulder Half Marathon, when I got to see all of your faces during the last six miles, because I was so far ahead of you at the turn-around point.
Perhaps now is a good spot for a confession; I might as well get the, ‘Yes, I turned 40 this year’ thing out of the way. All this running takes time. It takes a patient wife, a supportive three-year old son (well actually more than supportive since he comes to my races with a cowbell, and then likes to show everyone how he races too), and it takes more than a little self-awareness, that serious running is a selfish indulgence. I read somewhere that serious runners often lament how difficult it is to have relationships, jobs, and running all at the same time. Let me say, and I mean this as a message to all those serious runners, it sure helps if you have only two of those three things to worry about. Some may scoff, and say selfish indeed, yet, given this opportunity, wouldn’t most people embark on something like this if they could? Wait, don’t answer that, it was rhetorical, and I have more to present.
Captain Ahab pursued Moby Dick in the same way the casual-turned-serious runners dream of the Boston Marathon. To run in the Boston Marathon, you must qualify, and qualifying is not easy. You have to run a fast time, according to your age group, in another full marathon, during the year leading up to the Boston Marathon. The Boston Marathon is the oldest marathon in the United States. It is the best-run race, in the classic city, and everyone has heard of it. People ask about it too, as in, “Have you run Boston?” This question is often posed by the same type of people who ask about your newborn, “Does your baby sleep through the night?” Whether or not your baby sleeps through the night is an arbitrary standard of good parenting, and certainly whether or not you have run the Boston Marathon is a dubious distinction for anyone who just loves to run. Yet, for those of us, who want a bigger goal, a bucket-list-type challenge, Boston is definitely the Big-time.
I have an interesting relationship with this goal. My wife qualified for the Boston Marathon, back in her early 30’s, when she ran the perfect race during the Portland Marathon in 2004. Her qualifying standard was 3:40:59. She ran a 3:40:20 marathon, qualifying by 39 seconds. 39 seconds! The mind-blowing fact is that if she had run just two seconds slower per mile over the course of 26.2 miles she would have missed the cut-off. My time during that race was 4:14:25. Whenever running does come up, I tell everyone who will listen about this fact, and then sheepishly mention, that, “No, she never ran Boston, she never wanted to, it wasn’t her goal.” For me to qualify for the Boston Marathon I would need to run a 3:20:59 marathon. My personal record in the marathon is 3:52:30, so to qualify, I would need to run more than a half hour faster than my fastest time.
Running, of course, isn’t just about running faster, or achieving lofty, nearly impossible goals. It also feeds new obsessions, like the weather, as in ‘How can I run in a foot of snow?’ I live in Boulder, CO, a running Mecca. The Summer and Fall are perfect for running here, the skies are blue, the air temperature in the 60’s, and the altitude and hills present just the right challenges at 5200 feet in a gorgeous town nestled at the foothills of the Rockies. But then, right before Halloween, all that changed when a foot of snow got dumped on the ground, and all my running trails iced over. Ever since doing a 9 miler on the treadmill with too-cushy shoes (and having a week of knee pain that wierd-ed me out), I can't say that I have been very enthusiastic about treadmills. Just the other day, on a day of interval training, with grim anticipation, I ran slowly to the Boulder High Track, expecting it to be snowed over, which it was.... Yet, upon further inspection, I realized some diehard runner had come before me, shoveling a just-wide-enough foot-path all the way around the oval in lane one of the track. Hooray! You gotta love Boulder.
I mentioned above that I live in a running Mecca. A quick word about this, and this is where I will finish the Blog …. I recently ran the Denver Half Marathon, and Boulder resident, Frank Shorter, did the announcing from the finish line. FYI, Frank Shorter won the Olympic Gold and Silver medals in the marathon. He is a mythical running figure, and lately, it is just about every other day when I run north from my house that I run into the legend himself, out for his morning exercise. Recently one day, he looked like he was slowing to turn down a cul de sac, so I thought, 'if not today, when?', and ....
I said, "Hey Frank, I enjoyed your calls and commentary on Sunday at the Denver Marathon."
Frank Shorter said, "Yeah, did you come to watch or run?"
I said, "I ran the half marathon."
He said, "Yeah, what's your name? "
I told him
He said (slowly like he was going to remember next time), "That's an easy one to remember! What do you do?"
I said, "I'm a lawyer, sort of..."
He said, "Me too. But I don't practice law. Never did. Always, I have been a runner, or talking, or writing about the sport... I live right here in that house. Passed the Colorado bar, but let the license expire... too many CLE's. Plus who wants to give out advice about easements and such. No, I rather talk about running...."
I said, "Yeah, you are kind of responsible for all of us who like running, right? You know I saw that movie about Pre (Steve Prefontaine) that you and Charlie Jones played Olympic Commentators ...."
He said, "I learned a lot from Charlie. You need good advice as a commentator, whether at a local race or on broadcast television. He told me only talk about the stuff that is in front of you. The race I mean. Don't talk about who isn't there, all that other stuff is someone else's agenda..."
I said, "So is that why you can be so upbeat, like Sunday, about people who finish races so much slower than you?"
He said, "Yeah, exactly. We all love running. Everyone who does it. It doesn't matter how fast you are. Why not keep the focus on them? Their accomplishment... you know, when I was coming up, I was my own coach. We didn't have coaches for the marathon. So I was always a coach and a runner. Now I get to talk to all those runners, encourage them. Keep this great sport going. I kind of owe it to them."
Then I said, "So Frank, I'll just tell you, I'm trying to qualify for Boston this year for the first time.
He said, "What was your time Sunday?"
I said, "1:37:20 for the half."
Frank Shorter said, "And what standard are you trying to qualify under."
I said, "40 year olds and above, so 3:20."
Then Frank Shorter said, "Ahhh, you got it made."
posted by Not Why, Why Not? @ 9:38 PM
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