Author: 36jonraessler50

For 2022, I ‘m on the Dry Creek Striders racing team. It was started a couple of years ago by a friend of mine with two people and it’s now four. While most of us have run longer races including marathons, we primarily enter 5Ks and 10Ks and our individual training plans revolve around those distances. (We also do light training runs together, followed by heavy burritos.) We’ve not done any official races yet this year, but we did a 5K time trial this weekend on the Dry Creek Trail. This is an east-west suburban trail system that runs from Standley Lake in Westminster to I-25. And, it’s obviously the source of our team name.

Our 5K course was out-and-back on the central portion of the trail and its advantage is that it’s very flat. We did it last year and a ridiculous headwind on the out portion ruined the trial, though it did nearly guarantee a negative split on the return portion.

It’s important to clarify these as time trials. Not only are they not official races but the only variable is our individual times. To mix things up, we’ll sometimes do waterfall starts, where we start in reverse order of how we usually finish. We depart the line one at a time, separated by the amount of time we think we’ll be behind the next person. If we’re all accurate on our predictions, we should have everyone finishing at the same time and pushing each other as we sprint towards the line.

This weekend, with no wind in the forecast, a good, flat run was in the works. As it was the first time we’d all run at race pace in some months, no one figured to have a personal best. In a dramatic and unwelcome twist, the wind showed up right before we started, pretty much guaranteeing a slower day. We’d considered a waterfall start but bagged that at the last minute for a traditional one.

At first, the wind didn’t seem too bad. As we ran further along the course, the wind intensified, leading us to wonder if this course is cursed. By the turnaround, our paces all dropped to levels we barely felt comfortable acknowledging. We did still enjoy the benefits of a tailwind on the way back, but it never seems like that perfectly balances out the headwind going out.

The times at the end? Suffice to say it’s probably a good thing we did a trial instead of a formal race. It can teach you quite a bit about where you are speed-wise, and what needs to happen so that the next race is better. Generally it’s not rocket science (one needs more miles and/or more speed) but the stark reminder is useful.

Next up for the team? Most likely an official race in mid-March that’s 7.77K in celebration of St. Patrick’s day. Possibly heavy burritos afterwards.

The majority of my running years and miles have been in Colorado and I’ve realized that while everything here can still feel new, I simultaneously find the trails and roads here familiar. It’s an odd contrast, but the sensation of being settled is reinforced when I travel and return. Running here feels natural.

My first years of running were in the town where I grew up, Lynchburg, Virginia. The miles and routes I covered there are my formative ones and I feel a certain kinship with them given how they helped form my running foundation. My parents still live in Lynchburg but when they said they were moving, I decided to go back for a few days to help them prep their house to put it on the market. I also wanted to hit a couple of my old favorite running routes.

I’ve not lived in Virginia for quite some time and it’s interesting to see the area with a different perspective. Many things appear smaller, such as local businesses and other buildings. The massive, yawning ravines in the wooded areas along the roads still look as if they could easily swallow me up if I were to stumble into them. In a running context, the routes I did before feel smaller, yet they still carry the thrill that I felt when I ran them before. The memories of where they’re particularly difficult, or where I had noteworthy triumphant or lousy moments, are vivid. And, when I go along them, in many ways it feels like I’ve never stopped training there.

There were two specific routes I wanted to run: a six miler with some good climbs and an eight miler with ridiculous hills in the middle. Both served as staple training runs and despite the difficulties of each, I enjoyed the challenge and preparation they provided.

At the 2.5-mile point on the six-mile loop, the road crests after a long climb and there was a view there that I always enjoyed of the hills rolling away into the distance. Especially right around or after sunrise, it was pleasant to see. It’s also the point where you hit roughly a mile of downhill and flat and can pick up good speed. As I hit the crest this time, I was greeted with a new, tall thicket of growth that obstructed all of the former view. Instead of rolling hills, it was a scraggly bunch of something. I still had the downhill and flat to look forward to so I forged ahead.

On the eight mile loop, the brutal hills start at mile two and it’s not until mile five that the course levels out for a bit. I always felt a sense of relief when I would make the turn there and that hasn’t changed a bit. The hills are still nasty and that route still pushes me in a way that I both loathe and relish.

Doing the routes again was a healthy reminder of the nature of change, at least of one view, and there was enough of the same from the past that they didn’t feel very different. Though I still can easily run faster at sea level, and though the roads and sidewalks there felt comfortable, when I got back I was reminded of how acclimated I’ve gotten to running in Colorado. I went for a run the day I returned and it felt perfectly natural. Good (likely) farewell miles in Lynchburg, continue to move forward.

Picking a spring race is challenging given that winter training tends to have more weather-related interruptions.

We had a couple of decent-sized snowstorms in the past few weeks. Often in our area, snow is followed by sun and we’re quickly back to our running routines. Frigid weather came on the heels of these storms. Our sidewalks and trails still have residual snow and ice pack along them. While running the other night, looking at my watch brought consistent frustration as my per-mile pace was below what I prefer. I then reminded myself that I was dodging and slowing down frequently for snow and ice patches.

This is not to dissuade anyone from aiming for a spring race. Rather, it’s to point out that there could be a number of factors that impact your training and that if you do choose a significant spring race, to roll with them.

If you’re training for a marathon and an impending snowstorm is forecast to collide with your long run, consider moving it up a day. It’s not likely to clobber your schedule (though you do want to consult the plan you’ve chosen) and you can still get the run in. You can have a similar approach for shorter race preparation if you had a key speed workout that would fall on a snow day.

If you’re uncomfortable switching the day, consider a shorter route that you can repeat near your house. One contingency plan I made for the virtual marathon this past fall was that if the weather had been crummy, I would run loops in my neighborhood so I could switch out socks and clothes quickly if needed. Or, if you feel that being close to your home would make it too tempting to call it off early, consider carrying an extra dry hat and other clothes in a small backpack or drawstring bag. It can feel burdensome but the times I’ve used one in snowy conditions, when I needed dry gear, I had it.

When you’re training in wintry conditions, it’s likely that your pace will be slower. That’s something of a “duh” statement but it’s important to keep in mind, which can reduce the frustration. Also, you’re still logging the miles and if you’re training for a longer distance, you may be on your feet longer which can help you on race day.

There are benefits to winter training, too. Slogging it out through some nasty stuff between December and March will give your mental fortitude a boost. Some people enjoy having running paths and trails to themselves and on nasty weather days, far fewer runners are out on them.

If you’re going for a key spring race, it’s often a good time of year as the weather is likely to be decent and it serves as a reward after months of winter training. It just requires a little physical and mental flexibility.

This past Wednesday, I had hoped to go to my local run club but in the mid-afternoon, heavy snow started coming down and it became apparent that getting to the store where we meet would be a challenge. Along with the snow, the temperatures were frigid. At 3:45 it was twelve degrees and forecast to go down from there.

I texted a friend of mine and we agreed to run to a lake close to our houses to do some loops there. I figured we’d keep it short due to the conditions but when I got home, I’d logged nine miles. Time flies when you’re having fun.

A few years ago, I mentioned that I use YakTrax when running in slick conditions and they continue to work well. While I still need to exercise some care and they don’t allow me to take off at a dead sprint or even run at a fast clip, they do help keep me upright. The only times I started to lose footing were the occasional ice patch or if I was on a slight slope. In those cases, if I slowed down all was well. The only downside is that while they’re excellent on snow, if you hit any concrete or asphalt surfaces, you definitely feel the impact on your legs. I prefer to use them if I’m sure that the vast majority of the run will be on snow or ice. The latter is also hard but I’ll take the impact over falling.

I also continued to appreciate the durability of my heavy pullover. Unfortunately, I can’t point to a website where it’s for sale because it appears that the manufacturer no longer exists. I bought the pullover in the fall of 1998 while training for the Columbus Marathon. While I don’t use it exclusively throughout the winter, I do wear it quite a bit and twenty-three years later, it is going strong. In fact, unless it’s in the low teens or colder, I can get away with just a short sleeve shirt underneath it. The brand name is Tri-Fit and at least for that product, they hit a grand slam. (I did find a company called Tri-Fit but it was formed in 2013 so I don’t think it’s the same one.)

Mentioning a jacket from a company that isn’t around any longer doesn’t help anyone in their search for solid winter gear. However, it is a reminder to hold onto good gear. Some will wear out or it may be that new technology dictates a replacement. If it doesn’t, don’t ditch it.

I reviewed my Nathan visibility light earlier this year. This can serve as a re-endorsement. I used it that night for the full nine miles and while it was six degrees and the light was partially caked with snow when I cruised back into my driveway, it was still blinking.

I’ve not posted regular running food reviews for a while but I did try a new gel recently, Gatorade Endurance. The one I had was strawberry and included caffeine. When I used it, I felt pretty good even though I’d done a decently fast six-miler the prior day. The taste was fine and it didn’t cause any GI disruptions so I was pleased.

On a related note, Honey Stinger’s gels used to be fairly thick. However, I ended up with a few packs recently and when using them, I noticed they’re much thinner and easier to take down than before.

While Gu is still my go-to gel for any critical long run or race, knowing these others work, especially if they’re being handed out during an event, is useful.

A few days ago, someone asked me what my favorite race was during this past year. I tend to look at accomplishments on their own and not within the context of a year or a season. Not having considered my races in an annual kind of framework, I was unprepared to answer. However, I racked my brain and realized that with the build-up for the marathon this past fall, followed by a few shorter races since that time, I’d mostly forgotten the ten-mile race I ran in June. In my quick analysis, I realized that was probably my best one since I met my optimal goal time for it and my pacing and strategy were solid. While I don’t foresee my view on best races changing because of this question, I appreciated that it helped bring a good race back to the surface.

I suspect my next official race will be sometime in the spring. Where we live, winter can be mild and spring can be wintry but if I’m paying for a race, I prefer for the conditions to be good for a fast time and I’ll take my odds on the warmer part of the year. At this point, I’m most likely looking at 5Ks and 10Ks for the coming year, with perhaps another ten-miler in there. In the meantime, I’ll keep preparing and logging miles.

I’ve written on making schedule adjustments to handle running and training during the busier holiday season. While we’re not quite back to pre-COVID holiday gatherings and activities, we’re also not as scaled back as we were in December 2020. I’ve included two links (2018 and 2020) to tips from prior posts.

On a somewhat related note, with less sunlight during this part of the year, you may find yourself running in the dark more frequently. This morning, I was out before sunrise picking up a box of donuts. A couple of runners were on a sidewalk along the road I was driving on and had headlamps, making them very easy to see. This is good for them, and for drivers around them.

There are plenty of ways to make yourself visible. Running headlamps are available and tend to be lightweight. Also, you can get inexpensive headlamps at places like Home Depot. While they can be bulkier than running-specific ones, for shorter runs they’re fine. I also carry a second light, normally a small flashlight, in case the batteries run out on the headlamp. The other benefit with a second light is that if you’re on a particularly busy street, you can have both of them on to make yourself extra visible.

There are plenty of reflective clothes and light-up vests to choose from on the market. These are an easy and built-in way to improve the chances of being seen. I also have a small blinking light that I can clip on the back of any shirt or jacket. The brand I have is Nathan and it’s $10. The one thing to watch out for is to make sure it’s secured and that if you go to adjust your collar or a hat, that it doesn’t fall off. I lost one in a pretty good snowstorm last year and as the white stuff was piling up, running back along my route to try and find it would have been futile.

Making yourself visible isn’t too hard and not only is it appreciated by everyone else on the road or trail, it’s safer for you, too.

Enjoy the countdown to 2022.

Course measurement is a critical part of any race and with the proliferation of GPS watches, is something that sparks plenty of post-race discussion. Prior to these watches becoming a relatively common asset, there was no easy way to see how far you ran compared to the published distance. Now, it’s easy for us to stop the watch at the finish line and check, and it’s not uncommon for the GPS to be close but a bit different.

I created a 5K course last spring for a few of us to do for a time trial. In the couple of weeks leading up to it, I ran the course multiple times and always came up with 3.1 miles. When we ran it, the course came up short. This baffled me. It was along a trail that I use frequently and in the days following the time trial, I noticed that my measurements were showing differently: long, short, and spot-on, depending on the day.

Similarly, when I ran the virtual marathon earlier this fall, I had the course picked out based on past measurements. On the day of, my watch and phone were giving me different mileage and neither matched the prior distance marks. When a few of us did a time trial on a track and ran the exact same distance, our watches were all slightly different.

If my watch doesn’t match the published distance, either long or short, then unless a course is way off, I’ll just go with the advertised length but acknowledge the caveat of the measurement. It’s possible my watch was right, it’s possible their measurement was right.

One way to know with certainty that you’re covering the full distance is to run a certified road race course. The one downside here is that these are measured to be at least the race distance. The organizers take the course and measure the shortest possible way someone can cover the 5K or marathon or whatever distance is advertised. This is important because if someone does set a record, they need to have covered the full distance and not be even a little bit shy of it. It also means that unless you’re able to run the shortest possible version of it, you’re going to be a bit long on your final mileage. The easiest way to cover your exact distance is to go to a track. If you stick to the inside line (and don’t step over it) the entire time, you will go the precise number of miles or kilometers you’re aiming for.

I ran a 5K yesterday. The weekend prior to the race, a friend of mine and I had run the course twice to get familiar with it and plot out our race strategy. When I got there and saw where the finish line was set up, I was surprised to see that it was a little short of where we figured it should have been. At the end of the race, my watch showed 3.06, or .04 miles off of the full 3.1.

My time goal had been a 19:55 with mile splits of 6:20/6:40/6:10. I ended up with a 19:25 and 6:23/6:38/6:03 on my watch. It’s possible the course wasn’t quite 3.1. On the other hand, I felt better than expected in the last mile and was pushing hard, so maybe it was a good day. Given that the time difference wouldn’t have pushed me past any major threshold and that the difference was within a reasonable margin of error, I’ll take the time.

At my run club a couple of weeks ago, the coordinator asked if we would be interested in a time trial at the following week’s club. I told her “definitely” and right after, I regretted my response. Having not done any speed work in nearly a year and being on the tail end of marathon recovery, as the week wore on and the time trial drew closer, my sense of regret grew exponentially.

When run club arrived, I’d hoped that maybe the coordinator had forgotten about the time trial or decided she didn’t want to bother with it. Instead, she announced that there would be a one-mile race following the regular run. Since I had nudged this idea into action, I felt obligated to participate. I ran a light three miles to loosen up, then made my way to the starting line.

Only seven of us (out of roughly forty at run club) lined up and based on what I knew about everyone else’s speed, I figured I’d finish somewhere between third and fifth. The course was on a mostly deserted road behind the store and would be out and back, with the first half uphill and the second half down. Chalk marks on the pavement indicated the start, turnaround, and finish.

The race started. As usual, the first 100 meters felt great. The speed was good, I was in fourth, and the thrill of the race was strong. And then you get 100 meters in and realize, “This is terrible.” The breathing becomes awful and, especially if you’re on an uphill start, you’re already feeling a slight burn. About twenty seconds after that gut punch, I dropped from fourth to sixth and could only think “I’m almost to the quarter-mile point.”

As we made our way from the quarter to the turnaround, “This is terrible” reverberated more and more strongly, and I glanced at my watch to see how close we were to the turnaround. If I could only get there, I thought I could possibly handle this thing.

A near knockout bout of “This is terrible” hit me, the turnaround appeared, and then something happened. I could see the next two runners ahead of me start to let up a little bit and I thought I might have a shot at passing them. When this happens in a race or time trial, it can serve as a boost of energy. We started our way back and downhill, and I made my move to pass them.

Once I’d passed them and gotten back into fourth, “This is terrible” quickly came back as I realized it would not be easy to keep them behind me. I started leaning on the idea that we had less than half the race to go. As I heard the footsteps behind me, I kept pushing harder and harder. The footsteps never relented, and I began to wonder if I’d surged too soon. I felt maxed out and there was no next gear to kick into. I checked my watch. A quarter mile to go.

From this point, I could see the finish line and I kept upping my speed. I was about 60% convinced I could hold on to my spot at this point, until we reached the “finish line” and were told that the course was short. We had another 150 meters to go. I hadn’t let up, thank goodness, and kept churning my legs, waiting for the glorious “beep” from my watch that would signal the one-mile point. By now, I was 90% sure I would keep my place but no matter, I pressed a bit harder.

Crossing the line was nothing short of relief. All of our lungs were burning and it would take a while to feel back to normal, but we were done. I’d barely held onto fourth with a 5:47. Not my fastest ever or even in recent years but given where my training stands, I’ll take it.

Even if you’re not prepared, a time trial can be a lot of fun. I suspect pride was fueling my reluctance to participate. Who wants to botch a race? “This is terrible” can be a common theme in any distance race and while it may seem odd that runners continue to race, there is an adrenaline factor that pushes us. Despite my lack of preparation and regret, the thrill of the race won out. Ultimately, it was fun.

Seasonal transition is often evident on the running trail. In these photos, one moment you’re enjoying a crisp and clear autumn day and a half mile later, you see storm clouds brewing over the mountains. While our area is still not expecting frigid temperatures for a little while, they are coming and it’s a good time to check out the winter wardrobe.

I’ve written two posts on winter running gear in the past so I’ve linked to those in the interest of not being overly repetitive.

The cold weather may slow us down but it shouldn’t prevent us from getting out onto the road or trail in the first place. Plan ahead now and when those storm clouds finally show up, you’ll be ready.

A note on race recovery time. I’m twenty-six days out from my marathon and during that time, I’ve been able to tell that the recommendations of one recovery day for every mile of the race distance are spot on. I’ve been running but my longest distance has been six and through all of them, I can tell that taking it easy is the right thing to do. Though on a technicality I’ll be past the recovery time by tomorrow, I’ll still build back up slowly.

A few years ago I posted that I’d run in 28 different states and since that time, I’ve added three more: Nevada, Arizona, and this past week, Oregon.

I travelled to Portland for a work conference and upon arriving, I initially figured that my Oregon miles would need to be logged by running loops in a nearby parking lot. Downtowns are usually tricky for running and though I’d gone to Google maps and found a path along the Willamette River which was about a half mile from my hotel, while walking to the conference the first day, I spent a little while looking for an access point to that path and couldn’t find one, at least one that didn’t involve going through rail yards or over concrete barricades.

While setting up the conference at the convention center, one of the warehouse foremen heard me lamenting the lack of running options in the area. It turned out he was a runner and knew the way to the river. Using his instructions, I set out the next morning and voila, there was the path.

Downtown Portland has acquired a less-than-savory reputation over the past eighteen months but since I was there for a total of six days, I doubt I have deep enough knowledge to fully comment on the city. However, though I had found a way to the river, I kept my hopes moderate for what I would find.

The river path was a small gem in the city. The first morning I ran, it was post-sunrise and running along the water was quite pleasant. A group of us met well before sunrise the next morning and wound our way down to the path. The lights from the city provided a vibrant backdrop for the run and cemented my view that the path was quite the find.

Often when travelling I keep my runs in the 30-minute range and there was a good turnaround point on the path that seemed designed for that length of run. Some chunks of basalt columns at this spot intrigued my geologist friends who were with me, who took a look at them before we started the trek back. While the path didn’t allow me to absorb the area as I might on other urban or rural routes when travelling, it was a relaxing stretch of running, a good getaway.

(One final note. Another gem of Portland is Powell’s City of Books. For any long-time Denver residents, it reminded me of the former Tattered Cover store at Cherry Creek. Multiple levels and shelves upon shelves of books. They don’t have just general sections. There are sections within sections of genres to help guide your search.)