Marathon training: Yassos

78 days until the Edinburgh Marathon.

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Friday, after a full day of teaching, I headed down to the track to do some Yassos (800 meter intervals).

It was a breezy March early evening, and still light out. I felt a touch cold as I started a warm-up mile.

After the mile, I stopped and stretched for a bit. I then started my chronometer on my watch and took off into my first of two hard laps around the track.

Yassos are a form of speed training, named after Bart Yasso. His book, My Life on the Run is an interesting account of the different places he's run throughout the world, and includes some training schedule. The Yasso 800 workout, if I recall correctly, consists of 10 x 800m runs, with a recovery in between each 800. It's said that your average time for the 800m runs, in minutes and seconds, predicts your marathon time in hours and minutes.

My first Yasso came in at 3:02.

I walked for a bit of the next lap, catching my breath, and then began a slow jog. There was one other guy on the track, but he left after a few laps.

When I returned to my start point, I stretched a little, felt my heart settling down, and then took off again.

My seconnd Yasso was 3:04. On this time, if maintained across the 10 repeats, I would be predicted to run a 3:04 marathon. However, I know that I'm not of that standard. My hope, though, is to run a 3:24 time at Edinburgh, to re-qualify for Boston.

After another recovery lap, I ran a 3:03 800. Again another recovery lap, and again another Yasso.

I don't know that I thought about much as I did these. I've been tossing around ideas for a book, and was wondering if something might be done on the psychology of running. However, it's possible that not much research has been done on this, and and also that some of the motivations for running are the same as for any other mass-participation event, and reflect social norms.

My remaining 800s were as follows:

4: 3:05
5: 3:04
6: 3:03
7: 3:01
8: 3:03
9: 3:04
10: 3:06? (my watch memory was full, so this is an estimate)

Interestingly, after my 5th 800, I started to feel pretty good. My heart didn't fully recover during my recovery lap, and I settled into allowing 3:00 for this lap. I wondered if my leg muscles were warm, and thus more effective, even though I'd expended energy on the preceding laps.

This was the first time I'd ever done 10 800s, and I was pleased to get through them, and run them relatively strongly.

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Lately, on the train-ride into work in the morning, I've been day-dreaming about a doing a hiking trip on the John Muir Trail. I pore over my maps of California and Yosemite (where the John Muir Trail starts), thinking about the logistics of doing a stretch of the trail. It's on my bucket-list of life ambitions, like the Appalachian Trail, but at some time - and I'm now 46 - you need to start knocking dipping into this bucket.




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The second hour of a long run is the hardest

91 days until the Edinburgh marathon

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I jogged down my street, and placed my water bottle and a gel in a tree on the corner. I sometimes wonder whether someone will take it, but so far it has been o.k.

From the corner I began my first "town loop", a 5.4 mile circular route that brings me back to this corner. For the past two weeks I have not been doing my long runs, as I had a hill race one weekend - which took everything out of me, and left my whole body sore for two days - and a longish cross country race the next.

These races are fine for helping with speed, but I now need to focus on building endurance.

My wife had taken the children out for the afternoon, so there were no excuses. My plan was for two town loops, and then a third, shorter loop, to get to 14.6 miles all in.

There was a feel of spring in the air, and some flowers were beginning to come up. I had the wind at my back for the first part of the loop, and then ran against it on the second half.

My first loop came in at 43:35. It didn't feel good - my legs had no spring - and it felt like a lot of effort in the second half. I stopped at the tree, had a drink of water, and grabbed my gel. As I began the second loop, I squeezed the gel into my mouth. It was orange flavour, sweet, and sticky. The gels are experiment for this marathon training programme.

Perhaps it was the gel, or maybe I had shaken off my tiredness, but in the second loop I began to feel better. I looked at my watch, and noted that I'd been running for 58 mins. Just a bit more to get to the second hour.

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Today, for whatever reason, I was focussed on this second hour. The next time I looked at my watch it read 1:02. Only 58 more mins to go to get this second hour in the books. I wanted to run strongly in this second hour, and see what I could get out of it. Most of my runs are 40-50 mins, and some are a bit over an hour. I need more time getting to this second hour, and embracing. Eventually, of course, I need to get into the third hour.

I didn't feel bad on the second half of my second loop, and it came in at 43:37. Again I had a swig of water at my tree. I was now at 1:28 in total, and so I was halfway through this second hour. Another short loop, and it should be full.

My hamstrings felt tight, and I was by no means fresh, but I felt o.k. I did my partial loop, and returned to my house at 2:00:16. I was pleased with a reasonable second hour of running. There is of course much more to be done.

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Last weekend - instead of running - I hiked to the top of a nearby mountain with my wife and children. From the top, a loch (Loch Katrine) was visible, and the sun caught some of the snow capped mountains to the north.

A moonlit, December run

168 days until the Edinburgh marathon.

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Last night my wife had plans to go out with some of the other local mums, and so, if I was to run, I needed to do it as soon as I got home from work.

It was cold, - 2 C (29 degrees F), and when I arrived home I didn't feel motivated to go out. Yet, I'd read a bit about Emil Zatopek in Why We Run by Robin Harvie, and this was inspiration enough to get me out of the door. Zatopek would run dozens of 400s on the track near his home, and his motivation was to do more than others were willing to do. For him, running fast was a matter of training the will. For me, getting out on a cold night was a step in this direction.

I donned my headband, a long-sleeve shirt and a short-sleeve shirt, gloves, running trousers, wool sox, and my running shoes. I carried a small Cateye bicycle light.

As soon as I stepped out into the night, I was glad I'd done so. I jogged through a nearby neigbourhood, picking my way carefully around icy bits of the road or sidewalk. My finger tips were a little numb, but my torso warmed quickly.

I followed the path around the loch in the center of our town. The trees on the side of the path were barren, and the moon was bright, so I didn't need my torch (flashlight) to see my way. Across the loch the ruins of a palace were visible, illuminated by the moon. The path was frozen, and occasionally crunched underfoot.

After the loch, I followed a road around some farms, and then looped back through town to my home.

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I'd meant for this blog to finish with the Boston marathon, and indeed, I haven't updated it since the race this spring.

But I want to restart it now. I want to go back to Boston. Posting about my runs, somehow, allows me to hold on the these experiences a little longer.

Now, to be honest, I think it will be a challenge to meet the new qualifying time for Boston. I have to do a sub 3:25 marathon to qualify. My best time was a 3:29:46 at Loch Ness last year - and I felt like I left everything on the road there. So, I need to run 5 minutes faster than that. I will try to do this in the Edinburgh marathon this spring.

Hmmm... wonder if I can go out with 7:40 miles, and hang on for as long as possible.

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Last week we had a terrrific windstorm here in Scotland, and it overturned the table on our deck. This morning, there was a inch or so of snow covereing everything. During the night, a cat must have checked out the disorder.

Picking them up and laying them down

The second wave of runners in the Boston marathon started slowly. The crowd was thick, and only a slow jog was possible as we crossed the start line. There was an ocean of bobbing heads on the road ahead.

I wore a synthetic t-shirt, running shorts, sox and shoes. The sun was bright, and as I ran along the right side of the road, I looked for a discarded cap that I might pick up to wear. It had been chilly at the runner's village, with a stiff breeze. On the road the wind was behind us, and the sun felt warm.

Mile 1 felt slow, and came in at 7:55.

I'd shared a seat on the school bus ride out to Hopkington with an E.R. doctor from Buffalo named Gregg. Like me, he had small children, and we talked about life in the midwest and running. He warned me to stay out of the sun at the athletes village, and recommended going easy on the first downhill miles of the race.

It was like this the whole weekend. I kept striking up conversation with cool, interesting people at every turn. It was like being on the Appalachian Trail with thru-hikers. Everyone was engaging in their passion, and as this was shared, there was an ease in chatting with strangers. Where are you from? What are you looking to do today?

Mile 2 was 7:30. Many people had discarded gloves and hats along the side of the road. I hadn't found a cap yet. The crowd was still dense, but the corral staging seemed reasonable - we were all running a similar pace.

3 was 7:45. The route passed in front of people's houses, and I slapped hands with children who were watching the race.

Mile 4 was 7:51. I was hot already.

5 was 7:47. I carried my usual fuel: small doughnuts and a brownie in a plastic bag. My forehead was sweaty. At a water stop I took water and ate a doughnut.

6,7, and 8 were 7:47, 7:45, and 7:55, respectively.

I didn't feel bad, but the running didn't feel effortless either. Had I done too much sight-seeing the day before? My legs felt a little tired.

Mile 9 was 8:10, but this included a pee break.

10 was 7:35. I took on more water, and had a bit of my brownie. I was back on pace, and in double digits.

11 was 7:53.

12 was slightly downhill in the approach to Wellesley. I saw a tall guy trip and fall here, though he was up and running again rapidly.

In mile 13 I could here the women of Wellesly college screaming their support to the runners. I'd read about the tradition of these women kissing runners, and now I saw that many students had signs indicating why you should kiss them: "Kiss me if you are from NYC"; "Kiss me if you are from Utah".

I was content to just slap hands.

But then I saw an unusual one: "Kiss me, I'm a neuroscientist".

I teach neuroscience. So I stopped and kissed a Wellesly neuroscientist wearing a green sweater.

Mile 13 was 7:40. I passed the half-marathon point in Wellesly at 1:42.

Now I was starting to tire a bit. My right achilles was tight, and my left quadricep felt sore.

15 was 7:56.

16, with the downhill to route 128, was 7:33.

17, with the first of the Newton hills, was tough. I was starting to suffer. My achilles and left leg were sore, and I was taking water now frequently. This mile came in at 8:19.

Mile 18 was 8:28. My pace had slipped, but this was a hilly mile.

19 was 8:08.

20 was 8:39.

21, with Heartbreak Hill, came in at 9:40. Now I was moving into survival mode. My legs felt spent. I started to think about just gettng to the next mile marker. The crowds were frenetic. I'd never run is such an atmosphere before.

22 was 9:31. Now on Beacon Street, I was entering a private world of exhaustion. I took water or Gatorade at every stop, and had to stop myself from downing the entire cup. I'd read somewhere a quote from an ultra-marathoner - Ann Trayson? - who said that it hurts up to a point, and then doesn't get any worse. I kept that in mind, but it seemed to be getting worse.

23 was 10:12. Yesterday I'd walked through Coolidge Corner, and now all I could do was shuffle through.

Mile 24 was 10:50. Many people were passing me. I had nothing left in my legs. If it had been an emergency, I probably could have sprinted another 100 meters, but that was all that was left.

I switched to run-walk. I'd run for a minute, then walk for 30 seconds. Now, my goal was to get to the finish line with the little bit of energy I had left.

This worked well for a bit. The walk breaks strengthend my run periods, and I'd catch the same people who'd run past me on the walk segments.

The small rise in the road over the highway caused my left calf suddenly felt like it had been put in a vice. I couldn't run. People shouted at me to keep going, but I could only hobble. Mile 25 took me 14:38.

My mother and sister were waiting for me at Kenmore Square. I started running again, and my sister snapped a photo.





I started running as the route headed towards Boylston Streeet. I was near a guy dressed as a cave-man, running barefoot. I saw the finish line and tried to run hard, but cramped again for a bit. This eased, and then I ran across the finish line, with the last 1.2 mile segment taking me 11:44.

I finished in 3:44:39.

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I'd started this blog two years ago as a way of documenting my attempts to qualify for and run the Boston marathon. I tried to qualify at the Edinburgh marathon, but failed. Later that same year, I was able to run a qualifying time at the Loch Ness marathon.

To finish this blog, I was hoping to describe was how, at Boston, I'd picked up the miles and layed them down.

But the race didn't go that way.

Still, I was there, and it was terrific.

Torn

5 days until the Boston marathon.

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The past 24 hours have been stressful. My father remains in the hospital, and his condition yesterday was extremely worrisome. I will be visiting next weekend, on a previously planned trip, but I have been torn whether I should leave as soon as possible.

For the moment I will stick with my original plan, and hope that things are ok.

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For the past few days I have been with my wife and children up in the Scottish highlands. The children are on their Easter break, and we rented a small cottage for the week.

There are trails just outside the cottage that wind through forests of Scots pine. These are great for running, and I had the chance to get in a few not-too-long runs.

A run in the woods

13 days until the Boston marathon.

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I'm tapering, I guess.

This past weekend I ran about 13 or so miles on a trail near my house. The trail is about 10 miles long in total; I just ran 6-7 miles and then headed back.

I ran to a place called "Wallace's Cave" (the dark bit on the right side of the photo). Apparently, William Wallace (Braveheart) hid there once. It's a small cave, but an interesting rock formation.

Encouragingly, I felt good on the run. After feeling slightly tired on my runs all week, I somehow had some bounce in my legs. Perhaps I do have some fitness.

Does everyone feel uneasy about tapering? OK, I buy that you don't want to arrive at the starting line tired. But it's hard to pull back. Nonetheless, I've been trying. I'm doing a moderate taper. With some hills.

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My father's condition has stabilised for the time being, which is encouraging. There were a few moments of real anxiety this past weekend, but it seems like he is pulling through.

Nature's first green is gold...

16 days until the Boston marathon.

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This will be a somewhat personal post, so if you aren't really interested in that type of stuff, please feel free to stop reading.

The marathon is just over two weeks away, and I have my number.

My excitement has been muted, however, by concern for my father.

He's 72, and his health has been declining in the past few years. Recently, because of his many problems, he's had difficulty walking, and as of two weeks ago he has obtained a wheelchair. There's been some discussion of him having to move to a nursing home.

But he's continuing to have other problems. Last week there was some problem with his feet. Yesterday he was taken to the hospital because he was weak and nauseous. He's back home, I think, but I don't have any details.

So I've had some background anxiety. When I get to work and check my e-mail, I half-expect some additional worrisome news from my family.

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Last weekend I did my last really long run - 22 miles. Most of this was along a canal that runs through our town all the way to Old City. It was slightly breezy, but the daffodils were out. Spring seems to be coming as slowly as possible this year.