Untamed Runner

Much of my running is relatively consistent. I stick to around 30 miles per week on a mixture of urban dirt trails and sidewalks/roads. The way I achieve the 30 miles is mostly consistent, doing basically four to six miles per day, six days per week. My schedule may dictate whether I do a six or four-mile run on any given day. If I know things are going to be busy some weeks and I’ll be limited to shorter runs most days, on a day when I have a little extra time I may stretch my run to seven or ten miles to ensure I hit the 30.

My speed work is a wild card. The goal is to get one day of speed in per week but I often may not make my final decision on the specifics of the workout until day of. It can range from 4X800 to 3X1000 and some weeks, I’ll substitute in an all-out six or seven-mile run for the speed.

A couple of weeks ago, I was waffling all over the place deciding among an all-out six-mile run on various courses and true speed work on the track, when I remembered a concept I came up with several years ago. My idea was to go out at a goal pace for a 5K and run until I either hit my goal time, or I fell off of it, whichever happened first. In a decision that was untamed, or at the very least unplanned, I decided it was time to try that out. A side bonus would be emphasizing to my body what that exact pace feels like. Per an earlier post, knowing your pace can be challenging so this would help.

I went to the track knowing two things were working against me: I was alone and it was hot. Off of the line, I suspected I was in trouble. Usually the first couple of laps feel okay and at some point past that it gets ugly. I basically held sub-19:00 through 2500M, gave it another 500M to see if I could get my time back, then knew I wouldn’t. Instead of struggling through, I took a 30 second pause, ran another 1000M all-out, took another 30-second pause, and ran the final 1000M all-out to round out the 5K.

The workout was tough but educational. I don’t know if I’m really that far off of sub-19:00, or if the two factors above held me way back. I’ll know more at my next race.

In the meantime, it was a new type of workout I’d never tried. In spite of not getting as close to my goal as I wanted, I think it was mentally and physically beneficial so I’ll take it as a positive, then give it another go at some point down the road.

One other quick note. You may have noticed a new menu item on the Untamed Runner page, Dry Creek Striders. If you click on that or here, there’s a brief write-up of the team.

There’s an out-and-back six-mile run along the trail near my house that I thoroughly enjoy. It includes one steep hill in the middle but otherwise is slightly net uphill on the way out and then slightly net downhill on the way back. Here’s what’s funny, and it may explain why I’m not a cartographer.

The ascent/descent at the turnaround doesn’t look that dramatic. However, when I make that turn, even if I don’t feel like I’m starting to push the pace harder, my per-mile pace noticeably drops, even if I don’t feel that different. Despite the gradual appearance, it makes a huge impact. On the flip side, the first mile out looks pancake flat but my time shows that it’s definitely not. I’ll feel like I’m running at a decent clip but my time is a bit slower than what I think it should be.

The moral of the story? The slightly visible/invisible changes in elevation may have a major impact on your time. Don’t get too rattled if your time is slower on an invisible climb, and don’t be too shocked if your pace plummets on a nearly invisible decline. Gravity actually works.

One thing athletes across all sports have in common is wanting success. There are obvious ways to measure this, such as winning a championship or an MVP award. There are also not-so-obvious ways. In Major League Baseball, every team wants to win the World Series but it’s not a reasonable expectation for most of them. ESPN put out an interesting list a couple of seasons ago identifying an achievable goal for every team and it included many outcomes including winning the World Series win, making the playoffs, or just having a winning record, among others.

For my race team, the Dry Creek Striders, of course we would enjoy sweeping a podium at a major marathon but that’s not reasonable. However, a couple of us did a race in the spring of 2022 and after it was over, we realized that had we all shown up, we would have swept the top three spots. In that moment, the idea of the team sweeping the podium in a race became a goal.

Of course, to create a sweep the top three finishers for the team have to be faster than the rest of the field. Over the following months, it didn’t happen for different reasons. There was at least one race where we could have swept but only two of us showed up, and a few races where a couple of other fast people thwarted our attempt.

We did a race this past Saturday, the Weld your Mettle 7K, where we hoped it might finally happen. As the race began, our two fastest runners, Collin Knaub and D.J. Hummel, took the lead. A third runner pushed them for a short bit but quickly fell back and it seemed apparent that they would hold the top two spots. However, the third-place person and one other runner were between them and me and the sweep was immediately in doubt.

I had projected a 28:00 time for the 7K, or 6:26 per mile. I knew the course was slightly downhill on the way out and thus slightly uphill on the way back. Not knowing the course and the 7K being an unfamiliar distance (I had never run it before; the closest for me was a 7.77K last year) I was determined to stick to my pace so as not to flame out early or have too much left. While I didn’t enjoy hanging back in fifth, I was patient and passed fourth place at around the half-mile point and then third place a little after the mile mark. I was then on my own.

At the turnaround, Collin and D.J. held a solid command of first and second so barring a complete meltdown, they would hold those spots. When I turned around, I made a note of how far behind me the next runner was. This was where I got concerned again. I did have thirty seconds on them but they were not one of the two that I had passed earlier. The now-fourth-place runner had worked his way up in the pack and I was wondering just how much fuel he had left. I increased my speed a little to immediately create a bigger gap, then settled back in to my planned pace.

At that pace, 30 seconds is a little over 120 meters and I kept two things in mind to keep from shifting into panic mode. The person behind me would have to run thirty seconds faster than me in order to catch me. Also, as I was starting to feel the effects of the net uphill, I kept in mind that they were also having to deal with the same elevation gain.

The result? I ended up crossing the line in 27:35 in third place and we finally got the sweep we wanted. We’ll enjoy it because like any success in athletics, you don’t know when or even if you’ll get the same result again.



Photo credits: Rob Knaub

My two fastest 5Ks were years ago but I remember they had one thing in common: in both cases I went out at a more conservative pace and then finished strong. I’ve attempted to mimic this strategy in recent races but it’s challenging for a couple of reasons. It’s wise to go out fast immediately off the line to get ahead of the scrum at the beginning of the race so you don’t get blocked in, especially in a big race and/or one where the course narrows in the first quarter or half mile. It’s then important to shift back into race pace but this isn’t the easiest discipline.

The other reason is that many runners like to bank their time to create some flexibility in their pace at the end. This is natural. It’s also risky and for me, it usually hasn’t worked. The occasions where I blasted an opening mile in a pace faster than what I planned for my overall time turned into a longer, disappointing race.

Let’s say my goal is to go under 19:00 in a 5K, or a 6:05 per mile pace. By the last part of a race, I normally feel sapped. It would feel much better to come through mile two in 12:00, knowing I can run a 6:15 third mile and make my goal, than to come through in 12:10 and still having to run yet another mile at that same pace, meaning I’ll actually have to push harder since I’m fatigued.

Ironically, this is why banking time can be a problem. If I’ve calculated my ability accurately and I’m actually in 18:59 shape, if I run my first two miles in 12:00, then I’m actually running 18:45 pace for that part of the race. I’ve pushed myself at a pace that I may be able to hold for 2.5 miles, instead of 3.1. While I do have extra time to work with, I’ve likely sapped my strength enough that even holding a slightly slower pace will be challenging, at best.

If I manage to hold the 12:10 pace exactly, it’ll mean a grueling finish. If I come through in a bit over that, say 12:15, it will still be grueling but I’ll probably have a little more fuel in the tank and I tend to believe that the extra fuel I have left against a little time I need to gain outbalances the time I’ve saved against the energy I’ve lost with banking time.

Of course, as readers of one of my recent posts know, you can go out too conservatively and not be in a position to make up time lost in the first mile. In my last race, when I crossed the two-mile mark at 12:52 instead of the 12:10 I needed for a sub-19:00 pace, even though I still felt fairly good, there was little to no chance of my ripping off a fast enough final 1.1 mile to get my goal.

It’s a delicate balance and given the challenge of pacing in general, it’s difficult to run the exact way you plan. But, still feeling a little zing in my legs tends to work better than having nothing left for the last push.

*Updated on 20 May to correct faulty URL link in text.

Race season is starting up for me and with that, learning a couple of new things. On a quick recap for The Dry Creek Striders, we’ve been at a few races already and we’ve enjoyed two overall wins, three podium finishes, and an age group win. At the Beat the Heat 5K last weekend, Collin Knaub earned both the win and a new course record.

Some of us ran at the Lucky Brew 5K in Windsor in March. When we arrived, the conditions were windier than had been forecast and while the course was flat and fast, there’s no real way to get around wind. Factoring all of that in, I went in expecting a 19:45 and ended up with a 19:20. Buoyed by this success, I figured another month of track work plus mileage would mean I could possibly dip under 19:00 at Beat the Heat. I ended up in 19:26. What happened? The course had a little more elevation gain and loss than Lucky Brew but I also was overly reliant on my watch.

My Garmin will show my per-mile pace but I’ve learned, especially when aiming for a very specific time, that when changing speed, the pace my watch displays takes a few moments to match what I’m actually running. I went out quickly to get ahead of the pack, settled in, and by the quarter mile point, I was showing a 6:00/6:05 mile pace, which is good enough for sub-19:00. I felt okay and I was ready to believe I could feel okay at that speed. In retrospect I should have known that it felt too good. By the time I realized it, my watch had leaped up to 6:35 pace and I was going uphill.

My first mile ended up being 6:25, which is just barely sub-20:00 pace. I knew I shouldn’t try to get it all back in the next mile so I didn’t go all-out and with more incline, I ended up with a 6:27 second mile. At this point, any thought of sub-19:00 was toast unless I was prepared to drop a 5:20 third mile. Even in the desperation of in-race-thinking, I knew this was not reasonable—my time at the Mile High Mile last summer was 5:41 and that was in an open race, not after having run two miles already. I did run mile three in 6:09 and got across the line in the aforementioned 19:26. Considering the difference in the courses, it was roughly comparable to Lucky Brew.

What lessons do I take away? Even if I am at the edge of sub-19:00, it would be close and I’ll need more training to get there. Probably more importantly, it was brutally reinforced that pacing is tough, even at professional levels. I’ll spend some time on the track and treadmill running my planned race pace and perhaps that will allow my body to have a better sense of my speed. In my next race, without going bonkers, I’ll know that 6:00/6:05 should feel a little more challenging than I thought. I’ll still need the watch to give me a reality check, but it will help counter any lag the watch is having. On to more training, and the next race…

There’s a reason sports teams have preseasons or spring trainings. When you jump off the line the first time after an extended period of not racing, you’re not exactly sure what may happen. Getting a sense of your speed and how you’re feeling in a semi-race environment is valuable, even beyond the raw number.

The Dry Creek Striders began our 2023 race season with a 3200M time trial on a track, or roughly two miles. The conditions weren’t ideal with a low temperature and some spots on the track that weren’t dry. They weren’t straight-up icy, but you couldn’t land on them with 100% certainty you wouldn’t lose your footing a little. In a 3200M, normally I can start to settle in within the first two laps and have a sense of how things are likely to play out. It wasn’t until the end of the third lap on this one that I got into a good rhythm.

I’d predicted a 12:10-12:20 for myself and I crossed the line in 12:04. I was pleased I was a little ahead of my prediction. And, as a comparison, when I was in 19-flat 5K shape I would post an 11:53-11:54 3200M. 10-11 seconds off, or roughly 45-50M, is not an inconsequential amount of time (though it’s also not overwhelming) and while I picked my time knowing that I’m planning to ramp up my mileage and speed work (and while the unpredictable spots on the track may have been worth a few seconds), it confirmed that I’ll need to do just that to get to the times I want.

It also reinforced the wisdom of getting races under my feet before going for one where I have a fast goal in mind. Aside from the fact I knew I needed more miles to increase my speed, being away from racing for a few months also means relearning the mental part of racing, too. The best way to accomplish that is to race; I’ve not found a good substitute for that yet. On to more miles, and races…

With the consistent and significant snowfall and longer-than-usual stretches of bitter cold that the Denver metro area has experienced this winter, running outside has proven to be more challenging than in past years.

Trails have been snow-packed for weeks and the surface has varied from soft or firm, to knobby, gnarled, and slick. Sidewalks still have patches of ice and snowpack along them and intersections still have mounds of snow and/or large ice-water puddles. Keeping a steady pace is not reasonable as I have to periodically slow down, navigate a slick/icy patch, and then pick it back up. Apparently, snow and ice don’t melt quickly off of synthetic track surfaces as I went to the local middle school to run a few laps on theirs and it still had a few inches of snow. With all of these obstacles, yesterday I decided it was a good time to throw my usual routes out the window and try something different.

99% of the times I run, I pick a distance and route ahead of time and I go with it. Heading out with an unknown distance and route is very, very unusual. I’d covered a decent part of the route I chose in the past so it wasn’t all new. However, I didn’t map it out ahead of time for the total distance or for the exact route so it would be a surprise in terms of distance and how I would cover the middle portion.

I wanted to cover six miles and when I got to three, I hesitated. I’d already done a chunk of the run over an unfamiliar trail. I had two options: consider it adventurous enough and head back home the way I came, or continue into new territory, gradually heading in the direction I needed to go by going over new ground and through unfamiliar sections of town for a bit longer. While I didn’t know exactly how I would get back to the main road or how long it would take me, I chose to continue the new route.

Logically, I knew the geography and layout of the area so by no stretch of the imagination was this a daring feat of exploration. And, it was a little fun to head into a new section of town without fully knowing where I would go. I found my way through a couple of neighborhoods, looped back to the main road, and then all was familiar.

If you’re trying new areas, obviously you don’t want to put yourself in an unpleasant situation, including adding on lots of extra miles you hadn’t planned on. But, I’d like to think that if there’s a reasonable opportunity to do so, it’s at least good preparation for the unexpected things that will undoubtedly creep up in races. Maybe it’s also a healthy way to keep your running brain alert and engaged.

I enjoy having a treadmill. A couple of weeks ago when it was -16 and slick outside, I ran on it instead of putting on YakTrax and extra layers and grinding my way to a thirty minute run in terrible conditions. However, while I’m not dependent on scenery for enjoying a run, staring at a wall and a clock for several miles while on the treadmill is not exciting. I could watch a video on my phone or put in earbuds for music, but I don’t like having things on my head or ears while running and getting the audio loud enough to enjoy a video on my phone would disturb the rest of the house and possibly blow my phone’s speakers.

I found a way to cut down on the boredom on the treadmill and as a possible bonus, I think it might help with pacing for races. Let’s say I’m planning to run four miles. I’ll set up a target time at the beginning of the run, say 29:00 or a 7:15 per mile pace. If I was going to run outside, I would attempt to start out at 7:15, hold that, and if I was still feeling good by mile three, kick up the pace and try to blast the rest of the way home.

On the treadmill, with the aforementioned pace, I’ll start at 7.0 miles per hour, or roughly 8:30 per mile. As I run, I’ll periodically, every 100M-400M, nudge the pace up by .1 miles per hour through the first couple of miles until I hit 8.3, which is my target pace. Of course, I’m still behind my overall target because I was under pace for a while. At this point, I have to run faster than my goal pace to hit 29:00. Depending on when I got to 8.3, I not only have to go above the pace but I have to continually do mental math to determine the speed I need to go to cruise in at 28:59, or faster.

My treadmill goes up to 12.0 miles per hour so it would be possible to push the speed way up for a quarter mile or so, then back it down and essentially do an interval workout. However, there’s a much bigger thrill to gradually increasing the pace, wondering if I’ll be able to hold it, but knowing I have to do so or even push it a bit higher for the last half mile to mile.

The boredom is now alleviated with this tactic and here’s where the possible bonus comes in. I’ve mentioned the challenge of pacing in races, especially when aiming for a specific time. There’s temptation to create a time cushion so that I’m not right on the edge for the last chunk of the race and having to push for a goal time when I’m running out of gas. Of course, I’ve seen plenty of times that even pacing is the most effective way to reach a goal time so creating the cushion is not a good plan. While I wouldn’t want to start a race too slow and create too much time to make up, my hope is that by using this game to avoid boredom on the treadmill, I’m also reinforcing a more effective pacing strategy. This is different than even pacing, but it does condition my legs and brain to trust myself to continue to push hard at the end of a race, even when it’s extraordinarily challenging to so do.

I don’t think I’ve ever made a New Year’s resolution. However, since I don’t race very often between late November and early March (four times in that span in the last eight years), recently I have found myself setting up loose racing and training plans in the December/January time block. It’s possible I outline my running year during that time frame because I have better perspective when I’m not in the middle of race preparation or higher-mileage training, where recent performances may unduly affect decision-making. I can look at how things have played out in the past, adjusting for anomalies, and strategize a little better. Also, since this is the time of year where we’re starting to make more firm plans around summer and the kids’ camps, it allows me to factor in the races to whatever else we’re doing.

By the end of this past year, I noticed that my finishing times tended to be faster in the fall. With that in mind, I have penciled in a couple of 10Ks for the spring, with a handful of 5Ks and shorter track events for the summer that I’ll train through, meaning race with no taper. I can then scout out a couple of flat, fast 5Ks for the fall in the hopes of hitting fast times. In theory, these would come after a stretch of higher mileage with speed work, and then an appropriate taper.

Of course, I stay open to unexpected possibilities. The Mile High Mile this past summer is one example of taking on something not in the plans at the last minute. So was the 5K I ran in Evans, CO in the spring. However, both of those were within, or close enough to, my overall plans that I knew they wouldn’t throw me off too much. Taking on something unexpected that’s far out of the range, especially something that involves long miles, may not be wise to do. I was briefly tempted to try the Cheyenne Marathon last fall on super-short training but wisely backed off. I mention that partly to illustrate that it can be very alluring to try something different on a whim but that keeping perspective is valuable.

Good luck as you embark on your 2023 running. If you do have a period of time during the year with less racing or intense running miles, it may be a good time to outline what you want to do for your race calendar, or for your running in general.

For my final race of the season, I signed up for the “Pumpkin Pie 5K” in Denver’s City Park. We got a decent sized snowstorm the Thursday before the race and the temperature stayed frigid. On Saturday, the day of the race, it was barely above twenty degrees and a significant portion of the course was covered in ice. Not good running conditions.

I came in with hopes of running under 19:00, especially since the field was crowded and I was likely to have people to work off of. Through the first half of the race, I stayed on pace for that and felt good. Past the halfway point, I picked up the speed a bit and still felt good.

And then, at 1.75 miles my pace was falling off. Strangely, I didn’t feel like I was backing off but my watch was telling me otherwise. I repeatedly tried to increase my speed and it was like pushing against a brick wall. Short of being reckless, I simply couldn’t make myself move faster.

Frustration was mounting but I managed to keep my head enough to notice that I was mostly passing other people as we got closer to the end. I finished with a 19:58, well off my goal and my times from earlier this fall.

In the aftermath of this frigid mess, I did a quick evaluation. Talking with a few runners afterwards, it turned out we all were roughly one minute below our expected times. The course was basically flat and its profile shouldn’t have led to a major slowdown over the second half. What I think happened is that many of us attempted to keep our goal pace during the first half. Doing so in cold temperatures and on slick surfaces took a lot more out of us than we realized.

This may seem obvious but when you’re keeping pace and feeling good, adrenaline can clearly mask how much gas you’re really burning. While I think I’ve developed a decent sense of when I’m overreaching on my pace and can adjust, in this case, it didn’t quite feel like that kind of a situation. It may be because I would have been able to maintain my goal pace on a dry road but my effort to do so on the ice wasn’t enough of an overreach to trigger the “Caution!” part of my brain.

I’m not sure what I would do differently in a future race with similar conditions. The ice slowed me down but I don’t know whether taking a more moderate pace at the beginning would have allowed me to pick up any time at the end. In fact, given how many people I was passing over the last mile, I think my strategy may have been fine. On a positive note, I followed my own advice from my last post and wore a neck gaiter for the warm-up and cool-down runs before and after the race. That at least kept my lungs from feeling too chilled.

The moral of story? I’m not sure if there is one. If I have a future race with similar conditions, I’ll just run hard and hope for the best.