Tuesday, November 23, 2010

The First Marathon

I wanted to write an detailed play-by-play of my first marathon-distance run, but never got around to it.  So I'm going to record some thoughts and observations before it fades into oblivion.

I've been wanting to do this run for a while - running from my folks' house in Reseda to work in Pasadena.  It just sounded so cool and ridiculous to run from the Valley to Pasadena!!!

The run was initially 26.4 mi - pretty much exactly a Marathon - but I extended it to 27.5 mi by running on well-lit Ventura instead of the sketchy Vanowen.

I started running at 5:10 thinking it'd take 4.5 hours and I could be at work around 9:30.  The first 7-8 miles were cake and I was making pretty good time.  By my preliminary calculations, I may have been running below 9 minute pace (I need to run at 9:10 pace to beat Palin).  It was dark, there were few cars and even fewer people around.  It was kind of cool running on a deserted street along dark storefronts past the occasional commuter huddled in their coat at a bus stop.

The sun started creeping up as I got to Moorpark in about an hour.  That's when I figured I will really see if I'm running at 9 minute pace or my more normal 10 minute pace for long runs.  I started hitting my first little wall about 1-2 miles into the Moorpark stretch.

My left knee was twinging with pain - pain not nearly strong enough to be concerning, but distracting and irritating.  Overall my legs were feeling less springy and more complainy.  I noticed a slowdown in pace.  That wasn't good, so early into the run - about mile 8-9.

So I slowed down to a walk, took out a Clif bar and drank a bunch of water.  This is OK - some of the best marathon runners walk past aid stations and still finish with times in low 2 hours.  This seemed to help.  I think food's really important.  And while I can eat a Clif bar while running, it's really unpleasant, so walking for a bit to do it was OK.

After that I got some of the springiness back and kept going.  I was feeling good and said "Good Morning" to a few people standing about.

The next wall was much bigger... right around the industrial area between Glendale and the Valley at around mile 15-16.  That was killer.  My legs were hurting a lot more and they just felt stiff.  Various muscles felt like they wanted to start spasming - butt, hip flexors, hamstring... luckily they didn't.  While my left knee felt better, the ligaments behind it were more stiff and were complaining.

And that's when it hit me.

SHIT I HAVE 10 MORE MILES TO RUN.

UGH.

I also had to pee.  And I needed fluids badly.  So I looked up the nearest gas station on my phone - an Arco. And the vision of going into a dirty toilet while chugging Gatorade helped me along the next mile or so until I got to promised land.

The Gatorade helped a bit - I knew I wasn't drinking quite as much water as I would have liked - I didn't want to have to refill my 2L Camelbak.  That would require taking it off my sweaty back and taking time to fill it up.

Then, still feeling stiff, I pushed on.  At that point I wasn't feeling particularly light or springy.  Everytime I stopped, getting going again was tough.  I just felt increasingly stiff.  I also noticed I started heel-striking more.  Not all the way landing on the heel, but definitely more weight on the heel.  So I had to watch that.

It was grinding.  In fact, what kept me going was the thought of:

"Just grind it out, just grind it out" over and over and over.

I was able to get some mini-second winds, but they kept being interrupted by lights (UGH) or me deciding to eat a piece of Clif bar.

*NOTE to self: when feeling light and springy and second-windy, don't break it by eating, just keep going until it starts going away or I'm stopped by something else*

So the last 10 miles went about this way.  There were some killer hills at the end, as Glendale became Pasadena.

The best part were the last 7-8 blocks.  I thought back to some of the best runners described in Born To Run, who finished the toughest 100 mile races with a smile on their face... in fact kept the smile on the whole way, just happy to be running.  I started thinking of that while picking up the pace.  And this feeling came over me where the pain and hurt and complaints of my legs became abstracted from me.  It was like floating above my legs, feeling them remotely, while they did the running under me, and the rest of me just glided along.

Honestly, I think it looked much more awkward than gliding to an outside observer, but that feeling of going fast while subduing the pain and fatigue felt wonderful.  Just knowing that I could go fast right when I thought I had nothing left felt wonderful.

I finished in 4:45.  If I try to see what my actual race time would have been, I would subtract 15 minute for the extra 1.3 miles beyond the marathon, about 10 minutes for lights, distractions, finding my way, buying Gatorade.   So that's 4:20, or 10 minute miles.  LA marathon is also all downhill, so I probably could have squeezed a 4:15.  Still need to be 15 minutes faster to beat Palin.

Other thoughts:

I decided I'm not a huge fan of running through the city.  While getting places is certainly fun, all the lights and obstacles could get really irritating and they really break my rhythm.  Towards the end as I got stiffer, getting going again got harder.  I don't mind running on roads and it's kind of fun to be around people... I just don't like all the lights.

I wasn't super sore and was able to work a full day at First Wilshire no problem.  I was certainly sore and drained, but nothing beyond repair.  This was Wednesday morning and I went skiing on Friday in Utah and did another run on Sunday.  My left knee was probably the most sore up front, but still not bad overall.  One place that was surprisingly sore were the balls of my feet.  They felt bruised from the impact.  I guess the good thing is that my heels weren't sore at all - so I wasn't heel striking.  But this also went away in a couple of days.

Finally, I dislike feeling like I have something to do when I'm done or having a time constraint.  Like for this run, the thought of getting into work right after the run, having to shower and put on stuffy business clothes was not exciting at all.  I would rather just sit down and relax on my own or with friends.  Not that my co-workers are not friends, but I felt like I should get in and work hard since I already missed 2 hours of work.  I imagine this would change as runs like these become routine and I don't quite feel so drained.  To my credit, despite feeling drained, I also felt elated and surprisingly calm and had a productive day at work.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

10k!

at 8:31 pace! Way below the 9:10 pace I need to keep to beat Sarah Palin.

- sent from my Droid

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

24:04!

New best time around the Rose Bowl 5K which translates to around 7:45 min/mi pace.  Howard and I ran.  I wasn't even tired or short of breath at the end... which means I probably could have done it in 23? 22??  21???

Maybe 6 minute mile is within reach after all...

I'm improving?

Two things recently:
1) I seem to have recovered from the 20 miler way faster than I expected given how shitty I felt the night of.  The next day I ran up and down the stairs no problem, and a day later (yesterday) I ran a 5K with my coworkers at around 8:10 pace, which is fast for me, and it felt good.  Maybe it's a fluke and it'll take me longer to recover from the next big run, or maybe I'm really improving.  

2) Last Thursday had to run about 1/3 mile from my car to the terminal as I was cutting it way too close to make my flight (I parked the car at like 20-25 minutes pre-flight).  I had on a heavy leather jacket, a reasonably full backpack, and work shoes.  Before I wouldn't even try running in non-running shoes.  But now, using my forefoot landing technique, I completed the run quickly (didn't time it, but ran the whole way without stopping) and made my flight.  Wasn't even short of breath.

Monday, November 8, 2010

20 Muir Beach Trail Run – One Day Later

So as I sit here on my balcony, feeling cold and thinking about yesterday… what comes to mind? 

Running long trail runs is really really hard!  Neither Sarah nor I have felt so utterly broken and destroyed after a run (including Sarah’s sub 4 hour marathon a few years earlier).  Sitting at the dinner table yesterday, showered and in comfy, frumpy clothes… we didn’t want to get up!  Just going to get some hot water from the teapot was a mission accompanied by “ih, oh, ih oh.”

Nothing really hurt in particular – except for a modest soreness in my left knee and a little bit in the lower calf/Achilles region of both legs.  It’s just my whole body felt drained and stiff.  Like an old rusted, un-oiled grandfather’s clock that was done ticking, yet was being forced to tick some more by some inconsiderate bastard. 

20 miles took just over 5 hours.  Not a time we’re proud of, but good enough given the conditions and our own states of being.  I’m still battling some sort of throat bug that comes and goes and Sarah’s recovering from bronchitis and ear infection.  And speaking of conditions…

When I saw the weather forecast that it was going to rain, I didn’t anticipate the biblical deluge that was going to dump on us.  At one point, running on a hillside that normally faces the ocean (in our case it faced a wall of fog and clouds), we got barraged by buckets of water being flung at us by the crisp “breeze” from the ocean.  I at one point was running one-handed with my right hand covering my face and eye.  Luckily by that point I was feeling good and had my runner’s high and rhythm going which made it all OK.

I think running in the cold makes it that much more difficult for me.  My muscles just don’t quite get warm the same way and feel stiffer.  I think it makes them hurt sooner and makes me less flexible/agile during the run.  It seems my minimum comfortable temperature is got to be in the 60s.  Or maybe I just need to wear tights. 

The other thing we didn’t anticipate is the mudwrestling.  Not wrestling each other in the mud, but literally wrestling the mud itself.  I still recall Sarah exclaiming “Trail runners are ridiculous!” in reference to the race organizers putting the most intense uphill/downhill in the very beginning of the course.  It’s the sort of climb that you will not see at a popular city race even if it didn’t involve wrestling mud along with hundreds of other people.  The mud was so bad that most of us opted to walk up the hill on the side of the trail (which at that place was as wide as a road).  Those brave souls trying to run moved only marginally faster despite their best efforts.  The mud was so wet, sticky, and slick that just standing in one place, one starts to slide down.  The stickiness makes it harder to lift your shoes out once they’re in, requiring even more energy for every step. Though the fun part was going downhill the same route.  At first I went slower, being afraid to slip.  But then I got the hang of it and rolled with the punches - taking huge steps, sometimes jumps, and just sliding down on the mud, screaming "WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE" like a little kid.  

What else can I say?  Having a community of people out there was really cool.  There were a bunch of volunteers that came out to man the aid stations.  Not being used to being so cared for, I remember looking bewildered when a guy at the final aid station sought me with “What do you need?  What can I get you?”  “Umm………”  “Sports drink!” Sarah cut in who apparently was more on the ball.  It was organized by Pacific Coast Trail Runs. 

It was cool getting some varied food that we wouldn’t pack on our own necessarily, like boiled potatoes and salt, cookies and gummy bears.  They also had stuff like Cliff Energy Shots disgusting-tasting-but-apparently-really-good-for-you-gummy-cubes.  And it was cool knowing we’re not the only crazy fuckers running around in the rain and 50 degree cold.  We’d pass a person every once in a while and say Hi.  Ask how they’re doing, how long they’re running, etc. 

We also met these two dudes who were training for the North Face 50 miler in December which will happen in that area.  We waved at them thinking they were from the race, and they wound up joining us.  I picked their brain a bit about downhill running technique as they were clearly faster than us and looked like they knew what they were doing.  They suggested taking way smaller steps and making it more frequent – something I was already doing or trying to – and combine that with kind of zig-zagging it skiing style.  Using the terrain and stepping slightly sideways to brake.  Makes a lot of sense as it doesn’t put direct braking pressure on the knees, so I’ll play with a bit.  Sounds like a ton of fun!

Finally, big props to Sarah who manned up and pushed through despite being clearly in worse shape than me (as far as recovery from her sickness).  We had a moment at the first aid station where we almost turned back.  I told Sarah I will be fine with whatever decision she made and that’s it.  I knew that the only person who could convince her to do it was herself.  It reminded me of a time when Scott Jurek in Born To Run was laying face down on the ground during the Badwater Ultramarathon… thinking about quitting.  His wife didn’t say anything because whatever happened had to come from Scott.  He got up and won it.  Sarah got back into it and we finished, which is victory as far as we’re concerned.

So I continue to gain respect for the 100 milers, particularly on trails.  They use a variety of muscles and skills beyond just running on roads.  I think to do one requires years of training and skill.  I’m still really excited at the prospect and the journey to get there!