Over the last 10+ months my focus has been more on passing bars than training for races. I predicted that this might be the case when I was profiled for my marathon running in the UC College of Law Alumni Magazine. What I said was definitely true: “Studying for a bar is like its own version of a marathon.”
So the good news is: I passed the Ohio Bar and I am feeling very confident about doing the same with the Kentucky Bar.
The bad news (at least as to running) is: Maintaining the mental intensity necessary to really train hard has been very hard for me over the last 10+ months. I’ve certainly had streaks where I’ve felt motivated and started to get after it, but ultimately those spurts of inspiration have dissipated with more pressing career-based landmarks on the horizon.
With bars out of my life for the near future, it’s time for me to get serious about running again. Not only because I feel like I have more to accomplish but also because I am just a better person when I’m training hard and getting after a big running goal!
I’ve decided that my next adventure is going to be training for the Mohican 50 Miler in June. This will be my first ever ultra-marathon, and I will be posting more about why I decided to do it, but for now, it’s all about getting in more volume and becoming more sure-footed on the trail!
I should have learned this lesson by now: the best laid training plans almost never come to fruition. Over the last few weeks I’ve laid out several ambitious training plans that have me flawlessly increasing my mileage from week to week while also increasing my intensity at an equal rate.
Then reality hit. There are works projects. There’s another bar exam waiting for me in February. There are holiday parties. In general, there’s life.
This week my specific reality was polar vortex #15 and a cough that just wouldn’t go away. On Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, I fought through the freezing temps and bronchial distress only to allow common sense to prevail and give myself a couple of days off.
Of course, a couple days off means that my mileage goal of 60 miles turned into 40 miles–and that’s where the lesson comes in: you’ve got to take what you can get.
Yesterday, I waited for the double digits to hit and did a tempo run–four miles at six minute pace. Definitely nothing to write home about as I hope to run 20 seconds per mile faster for 22 more miles, but it’s a start.
Today, I ran one of my longer long runs in recent memory–14 miles–at a steady pace–6:45. Again, in a couple of months I’ll hope to run 24 miles at 5:50 pace, but I’ve got to start somewhere.
So for that’s my credo for the next month–take what I can get. I just have to hope that sooner than later the “what I can get” is between 60 and 80 miles. We’ll see…
Well, my running since the Flying Pig Marathon the first weekend in May has been almost non-existent. When I say non-existent I guess I should qualify that. There have been weeks when I have run as many as 70 miles; however, those weeks have been few and far between, and there have been far more weeks when I have run 0-19 miles.
There have also been weeks when I’ve made it back up to 40-50 miles, but those have not been numerous.
As far as racing goes, I won a trail race over the summer on residual Flying Pig training. After that pretty much nothing other than the Detroit Marathon Relay where I had the fastest leg on a 6.4 mile course. That was kind of encouraging, but I really didn’t do much to build upon what I had.
Bottom-line: If I’m going to have any kind of success in 2015, I need to get back into the swing of things before its too late.
But what’s too late? That’s an ominous question for me right now. That’s because I basically have no clue about my current fitness level. I know I”m not in mid 2:20 marathon shape, but I don’t know if I would go out at run 2:40 or 2:50 or 3:20. I’m hoping that my current value is closer to the beginning of that list, and if it’s not, then I want to just pretend like it is.
So what’s next?
There’s no getting around the fact that I just need to start running more. Last week I was sick, and then this week I tried to come back on New Years Day for a 9 mile run. It didn’t go great and yesterday, I actually felt sick again from coming back too soon. Tomorrow I will try an easy 10 and hope that lights a fire for me.
Ideally my marathon training block would be a solid 10 weeks of training with a 3 week taper, but after some rough weather, a bout of what might have been the flu, and a generally busy life, I have modified my plan. The new plan is 9 weeks of solid training followed by a 2 week taper before I race the Flying Pig Marathon on May 4th.
That doesn’t seem like much of a change, and the coach half of my “self-coached-athlete” self tells me that it’s not a big change at all. In fact, throughout 9 weeks of specific marathon training I will be able to train more intensely.
Over these nine weeks one of my goals is to experiment with my approach by pushing the limits a little bit more than I have in the past. This is of course risky, but I think that I can learn a lot from mixing things up a little bit this time around.
Week One
I had two workouts planned, and I executed both of them successfully (never a guarantee with marathon training). One of those workouts was what ended up being a 23 mile long run at 6:25 pace.
When people asked me about my training, and I told them about that long run, I received some very skeptical looks. However, I chose this workout with a great deal of care and purpose. I also chose it realizing that every great training block requires a little bit of risk and this was a risk I was willing to take.
WO#1: 10 x 1km @ marathon pace or slightly faster + 1km @ moderate tempo pace
WO #2: 2:30 long run with the last 15 minutes steady
Week Two
Week Two was possibly even more successful than week one. I had two more solid workouts and kept my mileage over 80 despite feeling a little bit run down at the beginning of the week. (see 23 miler is a calculated risk).
WO #3: 16 X 400 meters @ 74 seconds w/ 1 minute rest @ 6:15 pace
WO #4: 17 miles w/ 10 miles in 55 minutes on the Pig Course
Up next I start my next two week cycle, which will include some 2 kilometer reps, a moderate 25 mile long run, and two races (Pleasant Ridge 3 miler and Heart Mini 15k).
It’s inevitable that if you run in the Midwest and have a modicum of common sense, you will eventually end up on the treadmill during the winter season. I used to lack this modicum of common sense. That is, I insisted that, no matter the conditions, I had to run outside. Then one icy January morning I attempted to run 8 x 1/2 mile around my freshly glazed suburban Detroit neighborhood.
The result: I slipped while taking a tight turn and screwed up my right hip and lower back for the better part of two years. Lesson learned.
Now, living in Cincinnati, over a decade removed from my youthful indiscretion, I can pretty much guarantee that I’ll be on the dreadmill for a few runs every winter. My most recent experience led me to consider what it takes to have the best treadmill experience possible:
1. Great Music
When it comes music and running, I generally abstain. The two exceptions are: (1) when it’s the only thing that will get me out the door, and (2) when I’m running on the treadmill.
This week I’ve been listening to the Notorious xx while logging my miles. This album is perfect for treadmill running, as the ethereal beats encourage the mind to wander and forget that the body is going nowhere. Add to this, the rugged rhymes of Notorious BIG and you’re sure to gain the necessary edge to gut out some miles.
2. Hit Some Buttons
I can’t think of anything worse than just getting on the treadmill, selecting a pace and then plodding along for an indeterminate amount of time without doing anything more.
To avoid this scenario, I try to spend every few minutes adjusting some aspect of the machine. Yesterday, I decided to speed up for one minute at the beginning of each mile. Other times, I adjust the incline and set the platform anywhere from Topeka, Kansas to Mt. Everest.
3. Have no Shame
This one is pretty easy. You’re going to be surrounded by people who are in the gym every day. They have an unspoken etiquette that mostly revolves around not sweating too much and keeping the machine at a comfortable pace.
Well, if you’re anything like me–a 30 year old white guy who sweats like a prancerciser in Hades–then people are going to stare at you as puddles of sweat accumulate around your machine. Embrace the awkwardness–you’re only going to be doing this for a couple of days.
4. Dress for Success
Did I mention this is going to be a sweatfest?
With that in mind, don’t be afraid to throw on some split shorts and a racing singlet. Any extra material is just going to end up drenched with sweat, so you might as well be comfortable. Of course people are going to stare and wonder what kind of crazy exhibitionist you are. Keep this in mind, if your gym is large enough, you’ll never see these people again, and, even if they do see you (fully dressed), they’ll never put 2 and 2 together. And even if they do put 2 and 2 together, you can tell them that you have an identical twin who is serving time for indecent exposure.
5. Stare at Yourself
Running on the treadmill can be a great opportunity to stare at yourself for hours. On one hand this could seem a little bit vain, but on the other, if you’re anything like me–a 30 year old white guy with the running form of a three-legged greyhound with arthritis–then you’ll jump at any opportunity to actually see what the hell is going on when you put one foot in front of the other.
If you put these 5 highly-specific tips to practice and you’ll be guaranteed (not really) to enjoy your next date with the dreadmill.
I took a long hiatus from reading books about the Running Boom of the 1970s and 1980s. There was a point where I just wasn’t sure what more there was to learn about the era. After reading Running with the Legends by Michael Sandrock, I had a great history lesson about the personalities of the top runners from this era as well as ththeir training. Add to that the Prefontaine library, which includes both film–Without Limits, Pre, and Fire on the Track–as well as text.
Starting Kings of the Road with the thought that I had very little to learn, but ultimately I was pleasantly surprised.
Stracher brings this book together through common geography. Namely, Stracher focuses on three men Frank Shorter, Bill Rodgers, and Alberto Salazar, who each hail from New England. Building from this region, Stracher explores the history of the Falmouth road race, which was started by bar owner and amateur runner, Tommy Leonard.
As Shorter, Rodgers and Salazar head in separate directions, Falmouth becomes the place to which they return each summer for competition. This level of interconnectedness between the three men was a new idea to me. That is to say, I had read about each man in isolation, but not so much in reference to the other. Making the most of this overlap, Stracher highlights great moments like one in which the upstart Salazar pulls alongside Rodgers and Rodgers tells Salazar to go ahead and take the lead.
There are also clear differences between the trajectory of the three men’s careers as well. Of the three, Shorter is the only Olympic medalist, taking the gold medal in the 1972 marathon. In contrast Rodgers seemed to always struggle when the Olympics came around and then suffered the impact of the 1980 Olympic boycott. Salazar also suffered from the boycott as it came when he was arguably at the height of his career.
My only criticism of this book has to do with a few editorial flourishes that come at the beginning of several chapters. Within these segments Stracher makes sweeping statements about physiology, the current state of the marathon, and the barefoot running fad. I could have done without these, as each topic could be a book in itself.
The last thing that I would say about this book is that its prose is flawless. Stracher is a graduate of the Iowa writing program, and that is clear through the level of precision that he exhibits throughout Kings of the Road.
At the height of the Lance Armstrong’s reign, I was a grumpy 20 year old hocking Livestrong bracelets at Fleet Feet Sports in Chicago. I certainly wasn’t a cycling fan and, mostly for selfish reasons, I found the hoopla over the bracelets to be slightly annoying (that sounds bad doesn’t it?). While the bands were for a good cause, their scarcity led to frequent discontent among the eager seekers who poured into the store day after day in search of what I couldn’t produce.
Personal grievances aside, looking at Lance Armstrong from a common sense perspective, even in the moment I found his success fishy. Here was a Texan dominating a sport that–apart from Greg LeMond–had as much to do with Americans as berets.
Of course, there was no debating that Lance was an endurance animal with a fierce competitive streak. To that end, during the summer of 2003 this epic moment won me over through the conclusion of that Tour:
In my eyes this maneuver captures the contradiction that is Lance Armstrong. On one hand, we have the resilient cancer survivor, who always finds a way to navigate daunting obstacles. Here rides a true American superhero.
Yet, another part of me wonders–could a dose of HGH have improved his reaction time so as to make this move possible? Did a round of EPO ward off fatigue so that he could be clear headed in that moment? Is it legal to cut the course like that?
Aside from the last question (yes), there are no easy answers when it comes to Lance Armstrong. Seeking at least a bit more clarity, I picked up Reed Albergotti and Vanessa O’Connell’s excellent book Wheelmen: Lance Armstrong, The Tour de France, and the Greatest Sports Conspiracy Ever.
The the book’s central message is clear: Lance Armstrong was an extreme doper and egomaniac who was one cog in the larger Lance, Inc., which included multinational corporations, government institutions, and finance bankers.
The overriding strength of Wheelmen is its careful analysis of the constellation of myths that makeup Lance Armstrong’s career. Some of these myths are confirmed while others are debunked.
As far as confirmation goes, Wheelmen confirms that Lance Armstrong is and always has been, an egomaniac–maybe a sociopath. Exhibit A: Lance completely cut off his earliest and most dedicated supporters. Counted among the excluded was his mother, Linda and his mentor/father figure J.T..
For me the height of Lance’s brashness came when he refused to take a call from his mother because he was too busy swinging on a rope across a ballroom.
Albergotti and O’Connell tactfully resist any outright response to the familiar refrain: “Everybody was doing it.” Instead they compose a piecemeal rejection by demonstrating the complexity of Lance’s doping regimen. Between the smuggling of syringes across international borders and blood bags hanging from hotel room walls, the United States Postal Service’s program was the veritable Mission Impossible of cycling. Another counter to the “everybody was doing it” claim is the information that the sports other dominant riders backed off their doping programs following the “Operation Puerto” bust in 2006.
Finally, the sophistication of the USPS program is juxtaposed with snippets from other teams. Some teams didn’t have programs in place, leaving the doping up to the individual athletes. At one point, we encounter Floyd Landis nearly killing himself after a bout of self-doping gone wrong.
With regards to doping, the conclusion becomes: Yes, everybody was doing it, but not as effectively as Lance. After all, Lance had Dr. Ferrari, a mad scientist with a long history of doping infractions and nefarious connections.
Wheelmen also takes on the cancer myths. Before reading Wheelmen, I had always taken for granted the sentiment that Lance wasn’t “very good” before he got cancer. While Lance wasn’t the most dominant cyclist in history before he got cancer, he did win a stage of the Tour de France as well as a world championship.
At the center of this pre-cancer doping, is the oft-referenced “hospital bed” confession in which, according to onlookers, Lance told doctors he had used performance enhancers.
The second part of the cancer myth was that Lance had reinvented his body post-cancer. Lacking formal physiology training, this was something I had also believed. However, at least one scientist suggests that this wasn’t the case, as according to medical records Lance’s body weight was never so dramatically lowered so as to suggest an absolute cellular reformation. Add to the mix the fact that Lance’s VO2 Max scores weren’t that far superior to other endurance athletes and you are led to search for some alternate explanation for Lance’s success.
One oddity of Wheelmen is the very close relationship that the authors had with this story as they wrote the book. At various points throughout Wheelmen the authors refer to themselves in the third-person and describe their involvement in the surrounding events. Not necessarily good or bad, these moments gave the story an unfinished feel, which is quite accurate given the fact that Lance continues to fight his competitive ban.
My other critique would be the author’s treatment of the other riders. In particular, Floyd Landis and Dave Zabrieski seem, at times, to serve merely as innocent foils to the evil Lance Armstrong. I didn’t know much about either rider before picking up the book, but finished it with questions as to whether they were as innocent as they were made out to be.
But, to be fair, Wheelmen isn’t a book about Landis or Zabrieske–it’s a book about Lance Armstrong, and when it comes to depicting the main character Wheelmen gave me all that I could hope for and then some.
What I’ll remember most about this race is showing up to the starting line with a mix of the fine Scotch the my brother gave me for Christmas and Saag Paneer sloshing in my stomach. You’re not going to find any Runner’s World articles suggesting that this is the ideal fuel for your next race, but I don’t think you can underestimate the positive effects of a great evening with friends.
As for the race, a good crew was at the start line, including Chris Herren, Ryan Hopper, Matt Frondorf and a handful of really talented high schoolers. I was impressed by how tough the high school guys hung around for much of the race. I was reminded of being in high school and racing the “old guys” on the roads over the summer. Of course, I’m now that “old guy.”
Once we set off, I decided to just test the waters for a couple of miles and not make any moves until at least halfway through the race. That ended up being a solid plan, as I felt very comfortable at the back of a small pack. Eventually, when it was time to rock and roll, I surged up a little hill to opening up a gap.
At Mile 4 I really started to regret my dietary choices. We made our way into a park that seemed to wind endlessly around the local armory. Deep inside my gut, Scotch and curry burned. I looked over my shoulder to see Ryan Hopper closing the gap.
I gave my self a little pep-talk and managed a final surge out of the park. From there I didn’t look back.
I crossed the line in 26:50 [5:20 pace]. I’ll take this as a satisfying early result and look forward to extending that pace over longer and longer distances as spring approaches.
There was a post-race awards ceremony that was complete with Pikes Place coffee–the perfect recovery drink for both the race and the New Year’s Eve festivities.
Next up will be three weeks of hard training with another Frostbite 5 (no relation) in Centerville on Superbowl Sunday. That race will be my final benchmark before I begin my all out marathon training.
I’ve always wanted to be a running writer, and over the last year Run 52 gave me a chance to do that on a weekly basis. Now that Kayla and I have seen Cincinnati, I find myself still wanting to write about running and anything else that comes to mind, so this is where I will be doing that.
I have to say that outside of a few exceptions my bias is that “running blogs” are (1) really boring and (2) an exercise in narcissism. So I am going to try and avoid those possibilities by (1) not droning on and on, and (2) staying self-deprecating.
Here’s what you can expect to read about: the training I am trying, the books I am reading, and other things that I think are generally related to life and/or miles. Basically, the title says it all.
The Life and Miles of D. Leroy Warner 