Untamed Runner

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.

I’ve written a few posts on winter running but following this week’s speed workout, I have a new bit to add. It generally needs to be extremely cold, under twenty degrees and/or blowing snow, for me to cover my face with a Buff or neck gaiter. Now, I have an exception.

For my speed work, the temperature was in the upper twenties and I wouldn’t have considered wearing a face wrap except that since I was pushing myself at a faster pace, I was going to be breathing in a lot harder than a normal training run. In a 5K several years ago, it was twenty-three degrees at the start of the race. I didn’t wear a face wrap and after red-lining my lungs for three point one miles, I could feel the cold deep down in them. I rarely drink hot tea but I had some when I got home that day to help thaw out. It was a couple of hours before I felt normal again.

Remembering that experience plus several others, I didn’t want to freeze my lungs this week but I also didn’t want to cover my face during the speed work as that restricts my breathing and slows me down. I experimented with a compromise. I wore the face wrap on my warm-up run, discarded it for the track work (4X800 with one-minute rests between them) and then put it back on for the cool-down run. When I got back home, my lungs felt normal. While I did the most intense running without the wrap, I think wearing it ahead of time and afterwards prevented the deep-cold feeling in the lungs, while allowing me to hit my goal times.

Going forward, for a race or speed work I’ll err on the side of a face wrap when the temperatures are cold with the same pattern: wearing it during the warm-up and cool-down segments. Feeling a chill deep in the lungs isn’t much fun, and there’s an easy solution.

Taper, or resting before a race, is a key component of training and preparation. It basically means giving your legs and body a break during the week (or weeks, for longer races) before your event. In short, you run fewer miles than what you were doing during your peak training.

How much taper you need depends on the length of the race you’re attempting. For a marathon, it usually starts three to four weeks before race day, depending on your training plan. For a 5K or 10K, it means lighter mileage in the week leading up to it with possibly an extra day off. Since I include speed work in my training, for the week of a race I reduce the intensity of that workout, and/or do it earlier in the week, or skip it altogether.

How much does the taper help? If you’re not adhering to it with precision, what’s the impact? There are obvious don’ts. Doing a twenty-mile run during the week before a race will hinder your performance. What if you run an easy four miles the day before the race instead of two to three? That’s more difficult to say. I’ve done both and I don’t know that it had a significant impact on my race performance.

Some taper depends on personal preference. If your race is Saturday and you want to take a day off right before it, whether that’s Thursday or Friday is up to you. I like to get a few miles in the day before to stay loose but I try to make that run at least twenty-four hours before the start time. 

If you’re training for a specific 5K or 10K time, you may be doing a few events during your season leading up to a specific race where you think you can hit your goal. For any of these preliminary events, I don’t want to back off too much on the miles for the week leading up to them because I am preparing for one down the road. What I will do is adjust my mileage so that I cover more miles earlier in the week and I can do shorter runs in the few days before the race. It’s a semi-taper, so to speak.

Taper doesn’t guarantee a fast performance, it just means your body is relatively rested heading into the event. My general philosophy on race week and tapering is that you can’t do much to improve your performance but you can do a lot to screw it up. It’s a tough week because if you’re holding back after weeks of hard training, your muscles will get more and more revved up through the week and ready to bolt. But, the taper is a significant factor in giving you your best shot at hitting your time or distance goal. 

For races, it’s helpful to check out a course map and an elevation profile ahead of time, if they’re available. Especially with hills it’s useful to know where they are, even if they’re gradual or barely discernible, so you can strategize appropriately.

In a couple of 5Ks I’ve run, though the area didn’t look hilly, the third mile was significantly net downhill. I didn’t realize this for one of them and when I crossed the two-mile mark behind my goal pace I was close to spent, figured I was toast, and kept up at a reasonable pace, focusing on keeping my place. However, with a quarter mile to go, I realized I was back on pace and it turned into a mad dash for the finish.

In the other 5K example, I knew the profile ahead of time. For that race, my first two miles were a little slower than my goal pace but I was able to pour in some speed on a long downhill stretch in the third mile towards the finish, and I hit the time I planned on.

Understanding the terrain profile is also useful for training runs. When I did a 4X800 speed workout several weeks ago, the first and third 800s were net uphill and the second and fourth were net down. I put a lot of energy into the second 800 and went well under my goal time of 2:59, hitting a 2:53. This likely prevented me from hitting all four in 2:59 or faster. I pushed hard to keep number three at 2:59 and for the fourth one, I was so out of gas that I got 3:01. The purpose of the speed workout is to maximize effort and I wasn’t far off of my planned pace. However, it was a good lesson that while the downhill gave me an advantage, I probably gave too much too early. One could argue that the six seconds I gained on number two compensated for the two seconds lost on number four, but maybe not. On the same route three weeks later, I held back a little on #2 hitting it in 2:59. #3 was 2:57, #4 was 2:53. More miles and speed work between the workouts probably had something to do with the faster overall times but going too fast early in the run does have an impact.

So how do you balance pushing hard with hills, even subtle inclines or declines? I don’t think there’s a magic formula. For my own training and racing, on downhills I let gravity do a lot of the work, especially on the first half. If I’m in the second half, I’ll push harder on the downhills. Up is tricky. I keep an eye on my watch and try to make sure I’m not falling too far off my pace but also not clobbering my legs and lungs too early. Any time gained could be offset by depleting your body. Towards the end, especially within the last quarter mile, boosting my effort up a hill may be necessary, either to snag the good time or stay ahead of the next competitor.

My approach is to understand the terrain and attempt to maintain patience. Doing so goes a long way to making my energy output as efficient as possible and minimizing my time on the course.

Kipchoge came and went at Berlin in 2:01:09, 30 seconds faster than his previous world record. His time is seventy seconds from a ratified sub-two finish. More speculation on his future plans and possibilities in a future post, as this is not what greed and ambition refers to…

Following unplanned time off earlier this summer, I focused my training on getting my 5K time back down to the high nineteens, if not faster. In a race in late July, I posted a 20:13 and knew that with a few more weeks of training, I could probably get to my time goal.

The Dry Creek Striders did a 5K time trial in early September and a formal race two weeks after that. My goal for the trial was to go under twenty minutes. If I could do that, I felt reasonably confident that with two more weeks of preparation, I could post nineteen-something in the next race. If there’s any suspense about whether I went under twenty for either, I’ll cut that off and say I happily went 19:31 and 19:11 for the trial and race, respectively. This is where the greed or ambition debate comes in.

Both the trial and race were out-and-back courses, net uphill for the first 1.55K and then net down for the second half. On a course like this, assuming you haven’t completely burned yourself out on the opening half, you can use the way back to pick up some speed. In the time trial, I hit the two-mile mark at 12:46 and in the race, at 12:35. Sub-twenty, or 19:59, is basically a 6:25/mile pace, or 12:50 at the two-mile mark. In addition to being under that, I had paced myself well enough that I knew my chances of staying under twenty were very high. In fact, I felt so good in both races that I considered whether I should push for an 18:59. Was this greed or ambition?

Hitting an 18:59 in the time trial would have meant running a 5:29 final mile. My mid-race math wasn’t that precise but it was close enough that I knew my chances were absurdly low. My time in the Mile High Mile was 5:42. That was a single mile on a flat surface. Though I was technically going downhill, running thirteen seconds faster than that was not reasonable so I stuck with my goal as part of the larger plan. I likely left a little on the course but felt comfortable about the race in two weeks.

During the 5K race, I would have needed a 5:40 final mile for 18:59. My mid-race math remained a little imprecise but I knew again that my chances were absurdly low. Not only did I not want to fall apart and come up short on my time goal, I was in third place which meant a spot on the podium. My usual checking methods told me I had a good lead on fourth place, but I didn’t want to lose that.

Was 18:59 greed? Probably, which is why I decided against it. While I wonder if I could have picked up more time, I also ended up with times I was pleased with.

When is it ambition and not greed? That will differ from person to person. In a ten-miler last year, around mile six I thought my chances of going under seventy minutes were shot and then with a mile to go, I realized I could probably make it, and then did. While I suspect my math was still imprecise, it was close enough to make the attempt reasonable, even if it was a substantial push. It’s also good to keep goals in mind. While you don’t want to leave time on the course, in theory you set the goal knowing your abilities and you don’t want to torpedo that by overreaching.


Source used: Eliud Kipchoge (2:01:09) Smashes World Record; Tigist Assefa (2:15:37) Stuns World at 2022 Berlin Marathon – LetsRun.com

With the rancorous cacophony that is our recent news cycle, one could be inclined to believe that Washington, D.C. is currently an anger-filled swamp of hell.

I grew up in central Virginia, have friends who live in D.C., and my wife worked for a contractor at a federal agency for a year, right in the heart of the city. Because of all of that, I’ve spent a decent amount of time there for work and vacation and I’ve gotten to log a number miles in the city and surrounding communities. Though it’s a heavily developed and urban area, there are pleasant places to run, even today.

On my most recent trip, I stayed in Arlington for a conference and my hotel was a quarter mile from the Mt. Vernon trail. Ahead of my visit, I wondered whether this was a good running path or if it had turned into an urban camping corridor. It was the former. The section I was on ran near the Potomac and in some spots, provided wonderful views of several monuments on the National Mall. Other users were consistently courteous, such as cyclists waiting to pass until there was no oncoming pedestrian/bicycle traffic, and people not running or cycling in a way where they were hogging the middle of the path. In one spot, the trail ran through an on-ramp to the George Washington Parkway. When I saw it from a little ways back, I figured I would have to make a mad dash across it to avoid traffic. Instead, the cars were remarkably patient and allowed everyone to cross.

I’ve run on the National Mall and it was a good way to see some of the city’s highlights. Over a five-mile run, there are close-up views of the Capitol, White House, Washington Monument, and Lincoln Memorial, among other buildings. The pathways on the Mall are a relatively soft, light tan dirt and gravel mix (the federal government must have trillions of tons of this stuff locked away for resurfacing/repair because it’s been the exact same for as long as I can remember) and I usually see other runners on it. While there are a few street crossings, it’s a pleasant experience.

Maybe it’s nostalgia but I like to think that my enjoyment of running there is due to good design and people there using the paths in a reasonable way. There are likely pockets of angst in the city these days, maybe big ones, but the running miles are still enjoyable.

I get frequent questions about running shoes, even from seasoned runners. Initially, this surprised me. However, given how frequently shoe technology changes and how much manufacturers tinker with their designs, it’s not uncommon for runners to change brands from time to time when their go-to model doesn’t work any longer. When that happens to me, I’ll be curious about what other shoe models are out there and how they compare to what I’ve been wearing. The shoe types that were similar to yours in the past may not be any more and when you’re brought out brands or models you’ve never considered, naturally you want to know more. Since I’m not a shoe engineering expert, I’ll rely on the product knowledge of the folks working at the store.

I’ve written on shoes in the past and much of that information still holds true. The main difference now from four years ago, besides the technology, is price–currently standard models are in the $140-180 range. But, as the most important piece of gear for running, it’s good to invest in something that will work well.

There are many different vendors, models, and shoe shapes. Many companies have, in varying degrees, stayed with the traditional higher drop, where the sole at the heel is taller than at the forefoot. Following the barefoot running trend from several years ago, some shoe companies have focused on creating zero drop soles and still others have gone to more extreme cushioning. The best way to know where you fit on this scale is to go and try several on.

My decisions are based on comfort and feel. If I go to a local running store and buy something in the aforementioned price range, I’m confident that the cushioning and stability is well-designed and that the shoe will last within the standard range of 400-500 miles.

How do you know whether you’re a 400, 450, or 500 mile person? I’ve not seen a formula and I’ve gone with the assumption it’s something learned. One subtle way to determine this it to recognize how you’re feeling during and after the run. Setting aside outlier factors like long runs or high-intensity speed workouts that will wear you down more than a standard run, if you’re feeling more muscle strain or fatigue than normal, it’s possible a new pair of shoes will help.

You can also test it in reverse. Once you’ve gotten a new pair, after a couple weeks take a run in the former pair. I did this the other day and when I started the run, I could tell the cushion and support were shot. Not only did I feel it during the run, I felt it the next day, too. Clearly I had switched in time, and I’d possibly stretched the old pair a little too long. Had it been the opposite feeling, I would have planned to alternate them with my new pair for a couple of weeks until I’d fully worn them out.

Often you can use a model of a shoe for a long period of time and just switch out for the latest model when you’re done. It’s likely you’ll need to change at some point. When that occurs, there are plenty of options to keep yourself logging miles.

A couple of weeks ago, a friend of mine sent me a link for the Mile High Mile, a one-mile track race being held at a local high school. It featured many different heats including youth, high school, masters, elite, etc. Some readers of my blog may recall that in late 2019, I was planning to focus on training for and racing the mile during the upcoming year. Part of my reasoning was to engage with different styles of training including short, speed-focused efforts. I started on this endeavor, I bought a pair of racing flats, and then Covid slammed us. While the pandemic didn’t prevent me from making changes to my workouts, without any formal mile races on the calendar, I continued running my traditional distances.

When this mile race came up, I jumped on the opportunity. I’ve not been tailoring my workouts for shorter distances so I didn’t feel fully prepared but I figured I didn’t have much to lose. And, I still had the race flats.

There were unfamiliar things for me. The race was at night, as opposed to in the morning like most others, but I did a night 5K a few years ago in Phoenix so I had some relatively recent experience. The last time I did an organized track race was twenty-five years ago. I’ve run plenty on tracks but doing so in a tight space with other people is different. The shortest distance I’ve raced outside of time trials in the last twenty-five years is a 5K, so this was less than one-third of that distance.

With all of this in mind, the sun behind the horizon, and the stadium lights fully illuminating the track and stands, the starter fired her pistol. Off the line and through the first quarter, I felt like there was no way I’d be able to maintain my planned place. Yet, as I crossed the line to conclude the first lap, it hit me that I had three laps to go, not seven or eleven and a half. This is what happens when you run a distance outside of your normal repertoire. While I was still red-lining and straining, the size of the task became more manageable.

One thing that I’ve appreciated about speed work and time trials on a track is that you can easily check your pace every 100 meters and, if needed, adjust. As I finished the first 809 meters and headed into the final 800, I had maintained a good pace with some small tweaks here and there and felt solid. I couldn’t have picked up the speed but I felt confident I could hold it and maybe push a little.

There was one runner in front of me who was making the same adjustments I was, meaning my chances of catching him were small. I also suspected someone was right behind me but, per my last post, I focused on the heels of the next runner. By the end, we’d all maintained our places. My goal going into the race was 5:49 and I finished at 5:43. This was likely a combination of a conservative estimate combined with race flats. More importantly, it was fun, at least the kind of fun you have when running as hard as you can for roughly 1,080 steps. And, it was good to finally do a race distance I’d hoped to do nearly three years ago.

The track club that put this event on hosts meets during the summer. I’ve always intended to try one but this may be the nudge I needed to actually go to more of them next year. Even if you’re not perfectly prepared for an event, and whether or not you plan to run it again, doing something different can bring a little joy.

During my formative running years a friend of mine said that in a race, the only person who has any business checking behind them is the one in first place. Everyone else should be focusing on the next runner ahead. Besides the symbolic value of focusing on gaining time and catching people ahead of you, there are multiple reasons for this.

Turning your head and looking over your shoulder can slow you down just a fraction of a second. This may not be a big deal in a longer race but to look back repeatedly will add time. (Even the person in first place should minimize their checking.)

If someone turns and checks over their shoulder it can mean two things. It’s possible they feel fine and want to see whether they need to kick it up a gear or keep cruising. Or, they’re running out of gas and are concerned that they’ll get caught. If I look back, I figure I’m giving away information that I don’t want to reveal. While anyone behind me will be trying to catch me anyway, why give them extra motivation?

For these reasons, I almost always keep my eyes looking forward but there are scenarios where I may need to see who’s behind me. A few years ago, I was running a 10K and it was ridiculously hot outside. I’d run the opening half of the race way too fast and with a mile to go, I was in fourth place but struggling. It was obvious that I was not going to catch the person ahead of me so in the interest of maintaining my place, I checked over my shoulder several times in the last mile to see where the next runner was. I gauged what I needed to do to stay ahead of the next folks without falling apart, hoping that I had the energy to do so. I did, and in this situation breaking the rule was, in my mind, justified.

While looking ahead is better, if there are times I need to know who’s behind me there are a few simple ways to do this without actually fully checking over my shoulder.

If the course has turns, especially ones that swing you more than 90 degrees in one direction, once I’m on that turn, I’ll swivel my head just a bit to see who’s behind me. If it’s a 180 degree turn, I won’t even need to turn my head.

If the course goes underneath any roads and thus puts me in a small tunnel, if someone is close behind me, I’ll be able to hear them clearly with the echoes, assuming they enter the tunnel while I’m in there. If I don’t hear anything, I at least have a gap of the tunnel length on them.

Spectators along the course will often give a few claps or small cheers for any runners who come by. If I pass a group of spectators, I listen for when they’re making noise for the next runner and I then know where that person is.

As runners, we want to focus on going faster and, if we’re not in first place, then getting as close to that person as possible. While checking behind you is a natural temptation, minimizing it conserves time, doesn’t reveal how you might be feeling, and keeps you in a better position to improve your time and place.