Base miles

The snow that's been on the ground for nearly a month is melting in earnest now. Snow has been unusual in the UK since I've been here, so it's presence is a reminder of winters in the Ohio (where I grew up) and New England (where I worked for 6 years before moving to the UK). For my children, it's an opportunity for sleding - or sledging, as it's referred to here.

I've been following a modified McMillan running plan that I found in a helpful interactive feature on the New York Times web-site.

At the moment I'm doing base miles. But I'm trying to up my weekly miles a bit. Christmas week was a bit low, but we had family staying. I had a stomach bug two weeks after, so took that week easy as well.

Today I was scheduled for 10 miles. I ran from my house up to a local woodland park, where I met some running friends. We usually do a 6 mile loop through the woods, with a couple of good hills thrown in. Running from my house adds 2.5 miles, so call it 8.5 for the day.

And I'm tired. Maybe it's running through the snow and mud. I'm looking forward to a rest day tomorrow.

Even though the distance was a little less than I wanted, I ran for 1:38. My thinking is that this cross-country running is good for building toughness, even if the mileage isn't always there.


Tonight, I want to relax, have a beer, watch TV or read. Then go to bed early.

Running in the dark

Well, the dark season is upon us. It's dark as I write these words at just before 7 a.m., and it will be dark tonight by 4 p.m. And the days are still getting shorter.

At some level I like the starkness of November and December. The trees are bare. The leaves are in damp, disentegrating clumps here and there. In the woods, the ground is muddy underfoot from the incessant rain. When the sun is out the light is different - the shadows are long because the sun is lower in the sky even near mid-day. I'm content being inside, in my office at work, writing, or at home, making a stew or baking stuff.

Running in the winter means running in the dark. This began a few weeks ago when I was completing a run after work, and realised that having my torch (flashlight) would really have been useful. I have a bike-light with bright LEDs, and I power it with rechargeable batteries.

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On Dec. 1, after work, I set out for a long loop that I do that includes a section of The Road in the final few miles. On map-my-run it's 9.8 miles, but there's a bit extra from my office, so I call it 10.

It was dark, and cold, and raining when I started. As I gained elevation, the path became icy in patches, and the rain turned to snow. The first snow of the year! As I continued running up the road, the rain turned to snow and covered the road. I ran in the middle of the road (it's a farm road with no traffic), and the snow actually provided a little traction.

But it was cold. The wind was blowing hard, and the snow was horizontal. With the darkness and the empty terrain near The Road, it was easy to imagine one was running in Siberia. The side of my face was numb, and my right hand was numb within a soaking wet glove. Stupidly, I'd forgotten my mobile phone. If I turned my ankle, I'd be in trouble.

Finally I arrived at the junction with The Road. From here it was 4 miles back to where I work, and downhill. I sped up a bit to try and keep warm in the strong wind. At one point an SUV over-took me, and the driver stopped and asked whether I needed a lift. It was that kind of weather.

Eventually I made it back to campus. Here I joined friends for a welcome pint of Guinness in the pub.

It's raining again...

Man, this has been a wet summer, even by Scottish standards.

It's raining now, as I write these words, having just put the kids to bed.

It was raining earlier when, after work, I did a short speed work-out at the track, before picking up the kids.

I didn't have a lot of time, but was keen to get some running in. I did a mile on the track as a warm up, at a 7 min pace. I had my rain jacket on, but took it off after this warm-up, as it was mild out, and I would be wet with sweat if I left it on.

Next I tried the work-out suggested to me by an old guy I met at the track several months ago.

I ran 1000 meters, basically as fast as I could, and then walked. The idea is to run the distance and rest all within 5 mins. Then you start again.

I'm not quite capable of this. Basically, I run my 1k in just over 4 mins, and then walk 100 meters further on the track to recover. This takes a bit longer than a minute. I might try a stretch then, and then I'm off again. It's tough. Today I did 4 x 1000 meters. I was soaked by the end.

My hope is that some speed work will help me to run a good race at my local 10k later in September. I've run it for a handful of years now, and my best time was 41 something. However, it turns out that the course was a bit short that year, so I don't know what my best 10k really is. I haven't been able to touch this time since.

On the positive side, this year some of the splits in my longer races haven't been that far off 42 mins for 6 miles. So, perhaps I can run strong.

I've just got to shake off this lethargy that's engulfed me lately...

Running the Appalachian Trail

As I stated in the first post in this blog, one of my obsessions over the past few years has been idea of hiking the Appalachian Trail.

However, my situation (job; small children), precludes taking 4-6 months off to hike in the woods at the moment.

But the obsession still smolders on, and I've become an arm-chair hiker; I read any account of the trail I can find, both published and on a great web-site called Trail Journals.

This is enjoyable, but what I really want to do is to start chipping away at the 2,100 miles of the trail. So, whenever the opportunity arises, I try to get in a few miles on the trail. Last year, in exchange for agreeing to do the dishes for a year, I was able to do a week on the trail.

This year, as part of our family summer vacation, we stayed in a cottage near Rangelely, Maine. Not accidentally, the cottage was about 4 miles from the trail.

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The agreement with my wife is that I could peel off for a few hours and do a long run on the AT.

She dropped me off at a place where the AT crosses a road (Maine Route 17). My goal was to run from there to the next road crossing, a distance of 13 miles, where she would pick me up. Optimistically, I estimated that this would take 3 hours.

I didn't have the AT map for this section of trail, as I could only obtain it by buying the entire set of maps and the guidebook for the entire state. Though I was sorely tempted to do so, they would only see one use on this trip, and I couldn't justify this.

The view from my drop-off location, a lay by called "Height of Land", was terrific. You could see the unbroken northern Maine forest, and the impressive Megooselookmeguntic Lake below. Ominously, rain appeared to be sweeping up the lake towards us.

My wife, 6-year-old daughter, and I had a sandwich together at the lay by. My 4-year-old son napped in the back seat of our car. I waved to my wife and daughter, and started trotting towards the trail. Their plan was to go to the beach while I ran, weather permitting.

I carried a new, lightweight pack that I'd purchased at L.L. Bean in Freeport, Maine, earlier this week. In it I had a 1/2 liter bottle of water, and a 1/2 liter of Gatorade that I'd made up. I also had a rain jacket, hat, compass, map (covering just the last two miles of the section), and some chocolate doughnuts. I haven't encountered these doughnuts in the UK, and I know they are junk, but I remember them from growing up in the US.

The trail at the start was overgrown, and, typical of the AT, seemed to climb immediately. Within a few minutes it began to rain. I donned my jacket and hat and continued. Soon, the rain intensified, and I took shelter under a hemlock tree. At my feet the forest floor was covered with needles. The trees were mostly hemlock, pine, and birch.

The rain grew louder, and changed to hail. I considered turning back, but I thought that my wife would have left already. There was a rumble of thunder. I looked at my watch. I was 25 mins into the run, but had only run for a few of these minutes. I decided to wait 10 more minutes, and then push on. The rain clouds that I'd seen over the lake seemed to be moving quickly, so hopefully the rain would pass soon.

At about 35 mins into my "run", I moved back to the trail. The heavy rain had made the trail a bit of a stream in places. Large puddles formed in flat spots, and the muddy water in these eventually overflowed and flowed down the trail. Maine, apparently, had experienced a wet summer, and the trail already muddy. In addition, this particular section of the trail crossed many bogs, and the log posts bridging these were not always sufficient.

I ran/walked on. I wanted to keep my feet dry for as long as possible. Where the trail was under water or extremely muddy, I tried to skirt around its side, or pick my way over boulders and tree roots within the mud. This worked, but took time.

Eventually I came to a pond. It was like a post-card; a still body of water surrounded by trees. No moose however.

I tried to run when I could, but this would only be stretches of 100 meters or so. Then it was picking my way through the mud and water.

I came to a shelter (a bothy-like structure occurring every 10 or so miles on the trail). I signed the register, an AT-hiker tradition, and chatted with a couple who had started their hike several weeks ago in Vermont. They were debating about whether to continue today, or stay in this shelter for the evening. They opted to continue. At this point I was 1.5 hours into the run, but had only come about 4 miles. At this rate, I'd be quite late for my pick-up.

All I could do was keep moving. The sun came out occasionally, and I was able to take off my rain jacket. I drank my water, and ate my doughnuts. At one boggy stretch I stepped onto a log that moved, and a splash of cold bog water shot up my shorts. At another, I mis-judged the firmness of the ground and immersed my foot in mud. 3 hours and 20 mins into the run, I came to a campsite. A sign there indicated that it was 4.8 miles to the next road crossing. Could I do this in 40mins and only be an hour late?

Fortunately, the trail now featured longer runnable stretches. It was also somewhat downhill. I was tiring, and a song that I'd heard in the only radio station we could get in our cottage now ran through my head: I am woman, here me roar, in numbers to big to ignore. This wouldn't have been my first choice of songs, but it kept me going. I ran into a women hiker going the opposite direction on the trail, who said they'd seen my fan club a ways up the trail. I was encouraged by this, as it meant they might not just have been waiting for me, but getting in a little hike.

At 4 hours and 24 mins I emerged from the woods and entered the road-side parking lot. My family were waiting inside the car, as the rain had returned in earnest. I put my rain jacket on the car seat, to protect the upholstery from my muddy legs, and climbed in.

A tough 13 miles!

Red Moss Revolution hill race

I don't know how I did in this race yet, but I ran hard. It was another glorious, Scottish summer evening for this hill race.

It may look like I'm passing the woman in the picture with authority, however, she wasn't in the race (but just happened to be jogging on the race route), and she was running with a 3-legged dog.

It felt slow, but...

My strategy for the East Kilbride half-marathon, my third ever, was to go out slow.

My first mile was 7:09. The temperature was cool, and the skies overcast. It was a perfect day for racing. I chatted with a woman who's sister studied where I teach. It felt like I was just jogging, really, but I wanted to stick to my strategy. If I ran 7:15s or better for the race, I'd set a personal best time and break 1:35.

Mile two was slightly downhill, and came in at 13:54. However, I felt that the speed-up was due to the terrain, and not intrinsic.

3 was 21:12. I tried to keep the mental arithmetic of my time straight - on my goal pace, I should have hit mile 3 at 21:45. As long as I was under this, I would achieve my goal time.

Mile 4 was 28:20. The race route was made up of two loops. I wanted to stay in an easy pace for the first half of the race, and then see where I was.

5 was 35:32, but had a steady climb. 6 was 43:02.

I missed the sign for mile 7. Mile 8 seemed to feel very long, and I was thinking that I must, unfortunately, be tiring.

Then I saw the mile mark - 9! 1:03:21. I was feeling a little soreness in my knee, but was fine. I put my head down and concentrated on trying to catch the runner ahead of me. Once I'd real in him or her, I'd go for the next person.

As I passed on guy I asked him how it was going. "Terrible" he said, and he seemed to be struggling.

I didn't check my times at 10 or 11. At 12 I was 1:21:24. All I had to do is run the last 1.1 miles in less than 8:36 and I'd break 1:35. I tried to pick up the pace, although I was tired. However, in this race, unlike my previous two half-marathons, I wasn't shattered in the last miles.

I passed an incredibly thin guy who was stopped and bent over. He passed me and then stopped again. I passed him, and headed into the stadium. As I rounded the turn toward the finish on the track, I could see the clock 1:33:42... 43.. I sprinted, and finished at 1:33:47.

So, I'd beat my previous best time by almost 2 minutes. The conditions were great, and the course was relatively flat, so I don't know how much I can credit the strategy of going out slow... but I did feel much better in the final miles.

A new strategy for my upcoming half-maration

O.K. I've only run two half-marathons in my life, both this year. My first was a 1:35:38 finish; my second was 1:37:10.

My goal is to break 1:35.

In the previous two races I've started a little fast, and then faded a lot at the end.

Now what I'm thinking is going out a lot slower, and seeing if I have more gas in the tank for miles 11 and 12.

To run a 1:35, I need to run a 7:15/mile pace.

What I'm wondering is if I started slow... really, right at my overall pace average, instead of the sub-7 minute miles I typically start with, whether I'd finish a lot stronger.

So my empirical question is: will running 15s or so slower per mile at the start save me considerably more than 15s per mile in the final miles?

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This week:

I've been feeling pretty blah during my runs. I didn't get a chance for a long run this weekend, which I really wanted to do before next weekend's half-marathon race. I snuck in about 4 miles Sunday after lunch, on my way to pick up my daughter from one of her many activities. It was warm, I'd eaten too recently, and I didn't feel good.

Monday I wanted to go for my long run, but my wife didn't get home until late, so I just did my regular hill loop. This is about 6 miles with some elevation, and although I didn't feel strong at the start, I was ok at the end. Around 45mins total.

Tuesday I was going to do 10 miles on the track near work, but there was a children's track meet going on. I came home, my motivation dropped as it got later, and I ran 2-3 miles along a river path. My heart wasn't really into it.

Wednesday I had to pick up the children, but got to the track and tried for 4 miles at a sub-7 min pace. I finished at 27:45.

Now it's Thursday, and I'm not running. My thinking now, inspired by an article on this in the New York Times, is to get a lot of sleep tonight and for the next few nights. This, at some level, has an appeal: I haven't been feeling strong on my runs, and I've had some less-than-full sleep nights recently. I want to show up fo the race rested.

Tomorrow or Saturday I might go out for a jog just to keep loose. The race is Sunday morning.