Training Rules

I have these training rules posted on a cabinet in our kitchen where I can easily reference them.  I never read them, and never use them, but they’re there just in case I have a rare random moment of sanity.  They probably came from Joe, who is very scientific in his training, or from Joe’s coach, or a running magazine that knows what they are talking about.  The rules have little relevance to the real purpose of this post, but I thought of them while pondering the point I will eventually make.  Of course I transcribed them down to something short and manageable that I might understand rather than the original voluminous wording.

• Hard track workouts only once a week.  Easy days before and after.
• Tempo runs can be done again after 4 days.  Speed development or easy days before and after.
• Long runs can be done every 4 days.  Speed development before, but recovery after.
• Speed development/hills – 200 meters or under repeats.  Anything before and after except hard workout.
• Hard workout on Tuesday before a Saturday race hurts the race.

Just because I have these rules does not mean I follow them.  At my age (61) I take at least one, and often two, easy days before and after anything difficult.  Also, I can’t remember the last time I did speed work.  All too often my long run includes a race-pace tempo run, so there is nothing sane and sensible there.

When I feel good, and even when I don’t feel good, like today, if it has been several days since I've run hard and taken my body close to its limits, I throw something hard at it.  Hills, long miles, or fast miles, it doesn't much matter to me.  It just needs to be so difficult that it takes a significant amount of effort and concentration.  I simply want to get accustomed to being uncomfortable and fatigued over increasing periods of time and distance.  I am a training barbarian.  Work is work and I am not too particular how it is configured.  Whatever my training buddies want to do is fine with me.  If it is a solo run, I will make something up on my own that strains me, but never, ever, breaks me, which is almost the point I wanted to make.

Runners train with the firm belief that they will win if they train harder and longer than an equally talented competitor.  Everybody believes that.  We also believe that hard training may also allow us to beat a more talented, but less disciplined, competitor.  So runners are motivated to run long, or fast, or long and fast, in order to beat the competition.  We tend toward straining rather than training.

So last Saturday I did a 10-mile run, which was comprised of a rather quick 6-mile warm-up, a race-pace 3-mile pick-up, and a 1-mile warm down.  It was brutally hard.  On Sunday, the day after the 10-mile run, I did an easy 5 miles, which didn't feel easy at all, and at the end of the run I thought about doing one extra mile.  But I was so tired, and so sore, and it was at that point that I realized, not for the first time I might add, that the most important run is tomorrow’s run.  For running fanatics, sometimes less is more.

Today’s run, whatever it might be, is too much if I cannot run tomorrow, or if I don’t want to run tomorrow, or I injure my sorry self.  I must leave enough in my legs, in my tank, in my heart and soul, however you want to put it, that I still want to run, and am able to run, tomorrow.  I have to be in charge of my own morale and maintaining my body’s health.  Tomorrow’s run is much more important than whatever extra work I intend to heap on myself if that work puts tomorrow's run at risk.

Less is more, fellow fanatics.  Less is more.

Success

I recently read that the secret to success in life
is not getting what you want,
but being satisfied with what you get.

Of course this immediately reminded me of the Rolling Stones lyrics from the 1960’s
You can’t always get what you want
But if you try
Sometimes you just might find
You get what you need

Both statements remind me of pseudo-philosophical discussions about
the glass being half empty, or
the glass being half full,
when actually
the glass is simply twice as big as it needs to be.

And when I ponder this collection of statements I come to realize that
All that I need,
and all that I want,
is at home.

So I guess it isn’t much of an “AHA” moment to say that success is really all about your own personal definition of the term. Though I never spent any time seriously thinking about success growing up, my definition of success never had anything to do with work, salary, position, or title. And since my life never revolved around work, retirement hasn’t been some big traumatic event. The truth is I never loved my job or saw it as something I was called to do. My job never was my definition of success. My job did not define me. My job didn’t give me self-value; I already had that.

My job simply filled its purpose.
It put a roof over our heads,
and put food on the table,
and permitted me the time to pursue what I really loved:
Jean,
Ann and John,
running,
and reading good books.

(and playing computer games)


What is success?
To laugh often and much;
To win the respect of intelligent people
and the affection of children;
To earn the appreciation of honest critics
and endure the betrayal of false friends;
To appreciate beauty;
To find the best in others;
To leave the world a bit better, whether by
a healthy child, a garden patch
or a redeemed social condition;
To know even one life has breathed
easier because you have lived;
This is to have succeeded.

-- Ralph Waldo Emerson 1803-1882

Boogers – October 28, 2012

When I was a kid my dad used to work in the yard on weekends.  I remember him digging peat moss into flower beds before planting stuff.  Inevitably he’d end up with sweat and boogers dripping from the tip of his roman nose.  It was disgusting and I asked him how he could stand having that stuff just hanging there from the end of his nose, and why didn’t he wipe it away.  He said he’d never get anything done if he was continually wiping at the sweat (and boogers) dripping from the tip of his nose.

And so today I found myself working in the front yard digging up volunteer bridal wreath spirea shoots, and unidentified disgusting things were hanging from the tip of my nose, and a spider was rappelling from the tip of my hat and blocking my vision, and mosquitoes were buzzing my ears, and I was doing a pretty good job of ignoring it all until I realized I resembled my father, and I had to laugh.

A little bit later, as I was struggling to remove a tangle of roots from the soil, I exclaimed in frustration, “Come out of there you sons of bitches!”, and laughed again, because it was exactly the kind of curse my dad would have used. 

That's all - I just thought it was funny that I reminded me of my dad.

Randy Pausch

Many universities have what’s commonly known as the “Last Lecture” series. Students are asked to nominate their favorite professors to speak during the lecture series. The faculty member speaks on whatever topic they wish. The intention is that the faculty will cover topics that are near and dear to their hearts given the premise that this is their last lecture.

Randy Pausch was an extremely accomplished young man and popular computer science professor at Carnegie Mellon University. Randy Pausch was invited to be the inaugural speaker at CMU’s “Last Lecture” series when it was discovered that he had a terminal case of pancreatic cancer. His lecture is extremely entertaining once you get through the lengthy introductions. The lecture eventually found its way to YouTube and went viral. The lecture became so popular that he was invited to perform a condensed version on the Oprah television show.

You can find the lecture at the following website.
http://www.cmu.edu/uls/journeys/2007-2008/randy-pausch/index.html

The first 8 minutes are laborious introductions, but are necessary to set the stage. The next 1 hour and 17 minutes is the lecture by Randy Pausch. The last 20 minutes are emotional tributes to Randy Pausch. I HIGHLY recommend this video. It is really worth watching.

If you don’t have the time or inclination to watch, here are my notes from Randy Pausch’s last lecture –

Wait long enough and people will surprise and impress you; even the dim and objectionable

Instead of “no”, say “I don’t know, but tell me more”

Be careful what you wish for

Help others

Let your kids paint their bedrooms

Respect authority while questioning

Integrity in everything you do

Find someone better than you to hand over your favorite project to

Decide if you are Pooh’s friend Tigger, or are you Eeyore

Loyalty is a two way street

Never give up

You can’t get there alone

Tell the truth

Be earnest

Apologize when you screw up

Focus on others

Brick walls let us show our dedication

Brick walls are there to find out how badly we want something

Experience is what you get when you didn’t get what you wanted

Get a feedback loop from others and listen to it

Show gratitude

Don’t complain; just work harder

Be good at something

When they are still talking to you, even negatively, there is still hope for you

When they don’t talk to you anymore, that’s when they’ve given up on you

Pants on Fire

Okay, in this one I sound like a raving lunatic, but I am really ticked with the constant dishonesty exhibited on the public stage.

________________________________________________________


We elect people who tell us the lies we want to hear, and then are surprised when they turn out to be liars. – unknown

As I was shaving this morning I listened to the news on the radio. There was a short interview with a man from PolitiFact Georgia. It was one of many interviews over the past year discussing and revealing the facts and fiction of statements made by politicians. It isn’t important who the highlighted politicians were this morning. They happened to be the two presidential candidates, but it could have been, as it has been in the past, almost any of our leaders at the local, state, or national levels. At one time or another they all seem to come up on PolitiFact’s radar.

The disturbing part of the interview was that the two politician’s statements, unsurprisingly, for the umpteenth time, day after week after month, had been judged respectively “false” and “pants on fire”. What I found sad was that I wasn’t surprised, because it was exactly what I had come to expect from past experience. That realization aggravated me.

Our country’s emotional climate right now is that our politicians cannot be trusted, and our government cannot be trusted, both locally and nationally. Also, we don’t trust the media to give us unbiased news. I could easily digress into a rant about our distrust of the banking industry and corporate America who all too often have abandoned honesty and ethics in pursuit of profits. Each individual’s pursuit of self-interest has devolved into behaviors that resemble adherence to Machiavelli’s principle – The end justifies the means.

I feel like a citizen in China or the former Soviet Union. I know the politicians are lying to me. Our government doesn’t intentionally lie as a policy, but individual politicians and their election campaigns do intentionally lie.

Getting back on point, the question I want to pose is how do we as citizens become informed voters and make good decisions on issues when we are placed in a position of relative ignorance and fed a constant stream of misinformation, outright lies, and contradictory statements. No doubt there are some truths within that stream, but as an ordinary citizen it’s hard to discern the truth from the fiction.

It is obvious that I have become jaded about our political discourse, but given our current environment, I don’t see how anyone could not be jaded. And what depresses me even more; I don’t see a way for me or my country to recover from the affliction of universal distrust.

I would oh so much like to have just one person on the national scene who never lies, never misleads, never misquotes, doesn’t allow their campaign staff to do so, and truly has the nation’s best interests in mind rather than getting elected. I’d even settle for almost never.

I just want somebody worthy of my trust.

5k

I ran an ATC 5k that started in the downtown area near the Georgia Aquarium and World of Coca-Cola and ran a loop up to Georgia Tech and back. Moderately hilly - ran a 21:55 which is 7:03 pace.

TB is a tall old-looking poop in my age group who has beaten me by 15 seconds and 6 seconds in the last two races. The first race I didn’t know who he was, but the second race I did know him, and he beat me in the last mile. I was so exhausted and beaten in the last race that I had given up trying to catch him a half mile from the finish. I was disappointed in myself. What a quitter.

So today I got to the starting line kind of late and surreptitiously placed myself several rows behind TB. I vowed NOT to let him get away.  He got away from me a bit the first half mile due to slower traffic, but I eventually got on his six and stayed there. He got 20 yards ahead on two up hills, and I was so empty that I was fully prepared to concede the race, but each time on the following downhill I recovered the gap and got some life back in my legs.

There were several turns in the last mile and no place to hide, and so he knew I was there, so I moved up and ran side-by side with him, which caused him to jack up the pace. Ouch. As if I wasn’t already hurting to the max.

In the last third of a mile there were three 90-degree turns, right-left-right, to the finish line. I knew this in advance, and knew that each turn would take a toll on strength and speed, so I was mentally prepared to attack coming out of each turn with whatever I had left. I dropped him after the first turn, but kept charging hard the last 400 yards figuring he wouldn’t let me get away easily that late in the race. I beat him to the line, and don’t know how close he was as I didn’t want to turn around and have it misinterpreted as gloating or some other negative connotation.

I hope I don’t see him again anytime soon because that 5k really hurt. I hate the 5k; too dang short and painful.

Kisses Sweeter than Wine

On my way home from work last night I was listening to Jean’s playlist of favorite songs. I was skipping through them quickly, listening only to the first few measures until recognition and fond memories put a smile on my face, and then skipped on to the next tune.

I must have skipped through dozens of songs when I was captivated by the lyrics of a Peter, Paul, and Mary rendition of Kisses Sweeter than Wine. I was surprised by the wave of emotion that poured over me. As a teenager I’d heard the song, and thought it quite pleasant, but I never had a reaction like last night. There is a whole new perspective on life at age 60 versus age 18. While I could comprehend the lyrics as a youngster, I hadn’t yet LIVED the lyrics, and that makes all the difference in listening to the song now. The song now generates a feeling of nostalgia, wistfulness, and melancholy that is both pleasant and painful at the same time. Indescribable - music is indeed the language of the soul.

Don’t underestimate perspective.


Kisses Sweeter Than Wine

When I was a young man and never been kissed
I got to thinking over what I had missed.
I got me a girl, I kissed her and then
Oh Lord, I kissed her again.

Chorus:
Oh, kisses sweeter than wine,
Oh, kisses sweeter than wine

I asked her to marry and be my sweet wife,
And we would be so happy the rest of our lives.
I begged and I pleaded like a natural man,
And then, Oh Lord, she gave me her hand.

(Chorus)

I worked mighty hard and so did my wife,
Workin' hand in hand to make a good life.
With corn in the field and wheat in the bins,
I was, Oh Lord, the father of twins.

(Chorus)

Our children they numbered just about four,
They all had sweethearts knockin' at the door.
They all got married and they didn't hesitate;
I was, Oh Lord, the grandfather of eight.

(Chorus)

Now that we're old, and ready to go,
We get to thinkin' what happened a long time ago.
We had a lot of kids, trouble and pain,
But, Oh Lord, We'd do it again.

That's Just Mean

I was reading the Chronicle of Higher Education and read this reader comment at the bottom of an article –


“Yet again Mr. ZZZZ evinces unfamiliarity with English. For example, he writes ADVOCATED FOR THE ELIMINATION rather than ADVOCATED THE ELIMINATION. He writes ARGUING AGAINST THE FLAGSHIP SO MUCH AS HE IS ARGUING THAT rather than ARGUING AGAINST THE FLAGSHIP SO MUCH AS ARGUING THAT.

Perhaps at his "university" grammar counts for nothing. Clearly, Mr. ZZZZ's professional success at YYYYY University has not been impeded. But his employer, not to mention the CHRONICLE, should politely suggest to him that he master basic English, which I assume is the sole language he commands.”


To criticize the author for his English is mean. For all I know my English is also poor. So what? I am also ugly. Would he criticize me for that? His comments do not constitute a civil discussion of the ideas presented by the author.

I don’t know who this guy is, but I know I don’t want him as my enemy, so I am not posting a comment to his comment. The guy is a rabid dog who should be avoided. I wish there was a dislike button I could anonymously hit on his comment. Oh hell, I am going to put the word “dislike” out there as a comment anyway and risk his wrath.

I wonder if his mother knows he behaves like this.
I’d be ashamed if he was my spawn.

Nostalgia

I’ve been trying to write this piece for years and never successfully completed the mission. My difficulty lies in my desire to tell the truth without telling the whole truth, and I’ve never found a way to do both that pleased me. I think I may have found a way.

I am at home in Cedar Rapids for a few days visiting my mother. As I travel around town every street is familiar to me and has a memory associated with it. There are plenty of good memories, but it is the bad ones that haunt me. The memories aren’t “somebody done me wrong” stories; I think I’ve pretty much forgiven anybody who did me wrong years ago. The stores that haunt me are when I did wrong, and I have not forgiven myself.

At one moment I am castigating myself for how I behaved. I should have known better. I should have done better. How could I be such a dumbass? And then I try to cut myself some slack by acknowledging that I was just a kid, and I didn’t know any better, and therefore couldn’t have done any better, and hindsight is 20/20. And then I swing back the other direction again thinking that any fool should have known better and done better. Back and forth it goes, neither side ever winning the argument, and never achieving peace.

My memories are all the typical “young person coming of age” stories that we see all the time in “teen” movies. We laugh with embarrassment at the characters in the movies because we recognize ourselves in them. They (we) are so young, foolish, and insensitive that their actions are hilarious. Well, it isn’t so funny when you are the subject of your own story.

Lest I give you the wrong impression, I did okay.  It's just that in hindsight I realize I should have done so much better.  I wasn’t a criminal. I was simply guilty of the typical naïve stuff depicted in teen movies; at least I hope it is typical stuff and try to reassure myself that that is so. I think most of the stories fall into one or more of these teen-angst movie topics.

Young person seeking acceptance from his peers
Young person and cliques
Young person experiencing acceptance and exclusion
Young person managing first close personal relationships
Young person acting foolishly
Young person seeking athletic achievement
Young person seeking musical achievement
Young person meets success
Young person meets failure
          and handling it all like a rookie, which was eminently true.

I could spend a good deal of space here continuing the exercise in verbal self-flagellation in an attempt to convince you, and myself, that my remorse is real, but then you’d want to know my specific screw-ups, and I am not going to torture myself with the specifics. I do enough of that to myself already. The truth is that none of us is born with all the skills we need. I just want the kids to know that none of us is born fully formed and we all make mistakes in our learning years.


         “Good decisions    come   from  experience,
   and experience           comes  from  bad decisions.”


Keep that in mind.


Anyway, that is why I don't like going home, because I am forced to remember who I used to be, and that guy embarrasses me.

Justice

Can you draw up in your mind the image of one of those statues of a blindfolded Lady Liberty holding up the scales of justice that seem to occupy every courthouse in America?  Do you remember your high school civics classes about the concept of “innocent until proven guilty”?  Remember the need for both prosecution and defense, and an unbiased judge and jury?  Do you recall the process is designed to reveal the truth, and ultimately deliver justice?

We have this well established, but not perfect, system of justice where the burden of proof lies with the prosecution and an underlying principle that it is "better that ten guilty persons escape than that one innocent suffer".  (Blackstone’s formulation)  (Don’t be impressed; I had to look it up)  Hold those thoughts in your mind for just a moment plus any other principles and platitudes that come to mind.

 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blackstone's_formulation

Now recall the recent incident involving George Zimmerman and Trayvon Martin.  

Something happened between the two of them that night that resulted in the death of Trayvon Martin.  I don’t know what happened.  I know what it looks like, and I can speculate, but I can’t really know the truth base solely on what the news presents.

Around the little bit that is known it is easy enough to construct a story where Zimmerman is solely responsible for the death of Martin.  On the other hand it is also possible to imagine an incident where the two exchange words, and that Martin is partially responsible for the escalation of that verbal exchange into a physical altercation that tragically turns deadly.

What concerns me is the assumption of the masses that the first scenario is true based on the few facts readily available to us in the media.  We like neat and tidy stories.  We also like to make our judgments once and avoid the inconvenience of reconsidering our opinions as new evidence is revealed.  It allows us to simplify the clutter in our minds.

So I had a hard time when I saw the masses demonstrating in front of the police station demanding that Zimmerman be charged and tried for murder.  After seeing that vigilante justice doesn’t work in the form of an apparently overzealous neighborhood watchman, they now want mob justice in its place?  I thought there was supposed to be a thorough investigation.  I thought the prosecutor (and not the mob) was supposed to look at the evidence collected during the investigation.  I thought it was the prosecutor’s job (and not the mob’s) to decide if there is sufficient evidence to support an indictment.  It looked to me that the mob wanted to skip all of that.

And don’t kid yourself into thinking that the police chief, prosecutor, defense, judge, and jury are all unaffected by a mob of protestors outside the courthouse.  You can bet that they are all well aware of the protestors and are affected despite their best attempts to pretend otherwise.  And that is the protester’s intent, to influence the outcome of the justice system, and I think that is just plain wrong.

I know that if I am ever accused of a crime, I don’t want a mob trying to influence the outcome of my right to due process.  Wouldn't you?

Marathon Training

I am generally afraid to give anyone running advice. I don’t want the responsibility for leading anyone astray. I am not a coach, and I am not a scientist, but I guess I have read a zillion articles since I started running in 1967. I’ve run roughly 2,000 miles a year for almost 45 years, so I ought to at least know a few things first-hand. All I really know is what has worked moderately well for me. It might be that what I did was exactly right. It also might be that if I’d trained differently I would have had much better results. Anyway, here is what I think I know.

Mileage

I’ve never met anyone who felt fully prepared for any race, let alone a marathon. Everyone on the starting line is thinking they should have done more miles, more tempo runs, more preparatory races, and more speed work. That is the runner’s typical answer to all problems; more miles. If the runner cannot fit in more miles, then his answer is HARDER miles. We runners are a sick group of obsessive-compulsives.

Tempo Runs

Not sure how the big names define a tempo run, but I think of it as run of some moderate distance at roughly 80% of my maximum effort; faster than a recovery run, but slower than my max for the distance. Usually a distance of less than 12 miles, it is likely to be faster than my ultimate marathon pace. Still, I am running according to my perceived effort. I might look at my watch afterwards or during to see what I did, but I don’t use it to dictate my pace. My body tells me what I can/can’t do, not my watch. One a week ought to be sufficient.

I often use races in place of my tempo runs or use a segment of my long run as a tempo run. When racing I try to control myself during the bulk of the distance, but during the last miles, I let it rip without injuring myself. Okay, I often cheat when it comes to the 80% effort. Work is work, and I figure it is all good for me if I am up to it that day.

The ATC used to have a 10-mile race in September, a 20K in October, and a 30K the first Saturday in November that I would race at whatever I could manage for the distance. Given that I had another three weeks of training after the 30K race, and I would therefore have increased fitness and speed for the marathon, I figured my 30K pace would roughly be my marathon pace.

I think 3-4 races, no more than one per month, of increasing distance if possible, are good preparation for the marathon. Half marathons aren’t too hard to find. Entering a local 10K or 15K race works if I run the course pretty firmly prior to race start, and then again with the pack of runners, maintaining the best pace I can manage.

Long Runs

Most of my colleagues worked up to 22 miles for their long run, but I only managed 18. Some articles say the miles after 18 are damaging to your muscle fibers and does more harm than good. I tend to believe that. I think 18 miles is enough for the long run.

But I also believe in the need for speed. I like to have a speed day on Tuesdays where I run 4 x 1-mile repeats with a 400 meter rest; or a ladder workout starting at 800 meters as the shortest repeat. Or make this a “short” tempo run of 4-7 miles with a mile warm-up. I want to have the speed to knock out the first 15 miles of the marathon pretty quickly so I am not on my feet too long. No more than half the distance for a recovery when doing repeats or ladders. I prefer just a 400 for the recovery. I don’t want to get too much rest during the workout.

Whether it’s a long run or a speed workout, it’s hard to do it on your own. A training partner really helps.

Sleep

Nobody sleeps well the night before a race. Everybody is nervous given the huge investment of time and effort in preparation for the marathon. I’m lucky to get 6 hours of sleep in, and it's usually fitful sleep where I am constantly looking at the clock to see if I can get up and go. One small glass of wine the night before is relaxing, but I would not have any more than that on the night before the race. No sleeping pills or anything else. No extraordinary eating either. Just eat a normal meal. Too many people go crazy with the pasta loading and feel bloated or heavy for the race. Less is more the days leading into the race. There is nothing worse than needing to defecate in the middle of a race. I cannot hit the can too many times the morning of the race, if for no other reason than I don’t want to carry any extra ounces during the 26.2 miles.

Racing the Marathon

I think there is cumulative damage to your body during the marathon simply by being on your feet too long. If it takes too long to run the first 18 miles of the marathon, your body is going to be hamburger from taking so many pounding steps, and then there is the exposure to the weather, dehydration and I don’t know what all. The speed work and the racing helps give you the speed to get the first 15 miles done without too many foot strikes and too much damage to your body. I want to be able to rock and roll pretty quickly the first 15 miles of the marathon roughly 15-20 seconds per mile below my overall marathon pace knowing all the while that my pace will degrade at mile 18 and thereafter.

During the first 12 miles I don’t mind the adrenaline taking me a bit faster than I can maintain, and mentally telling myself to slow down and take it easy, but not actually doing it all that much. I try to mentally build an inner aura of glee at all the money (seconds) I am putting in the bank, and enjoying feeling so good (having rested) for the first time in months, and hoping I am going to have a good day, but knowing all along that it will be tough at 18 onward and I will have to give some of those seconds back.

From 12 to 18 I try to be right on my target mile pace, and by paying careful attention to my running form, maybe even maintain it longer. I know sometime I will have to pay the price, but I want to pay it as late as possible, so I manage my energy very carefully.

Chatting up some folks and collecting a running pack for the first half is also helpful. Having a group to take turns maintaining the pace is good, especially on a windy day. Gathering the critical mass of folks to sustain an interesting conversation is an excellent distraction from the increasing discomfort. Around 15 and later nobody is interested in chatting. Everyone is conserving their energy and wrestling with their increasing discomfort.

The mental effort of maintaining a pace is not insignificant. There is mental fatigue in addition to physical fatigue. If I find somebody who is running roughly my pace on both up hills and down hills, I am willing to pick it up just a bit in order to slipstream behind them. I am also willing to cut them loose and pick another victim, slower or faster, as need be.

Training

I like a weekly routine so I don’t cop-out on my hard workouts and long runs, and my cop-out days (rest) are built into my schedule. My speed/tempo run on Tuesdays would be a companion to my long run or race on Saturday, while being careful to listen to my body so I don’t injure myself. Sunday and Monday are recovery runs of 5-8 miles from the long run or race on Saturday. Wednesday is likewise a recovery run of 5-7 miles depending on how I feel after the speed on Tuesday. Thursday is generally 7 miles of generic miles, speed-play, speed-play on the up-hills on my route, or whatever I feel like doing that will not diminish my long run or race on Saturday. Friday is my day off from running – my reward for having survived the work week and the running week, and my rest day before Saturday’s big run, whatever it may be.

I am my own coach, so I am in charge of my morale. I want all of my runs to be positive experiences that build my confidence and morale. I don’t want to do too many miles too fast so that I get tired, beat-up, and depressed, but I want to do enough miles and speed that I am constantly proud and impressed with what I have accomplished. I am the horse, and the jockey, and the trainer. The jockey and the trainer have to take good care of the horse. It’s all up to me.

When to begin

My long run right now is 12. If I was to start training for a marathon my Saturdays might go

12, 13, 10 or race,
13, 14, 10 or race,
14, 15, 10 or race,
15, 16, 10 or race,
16, 17, 10 or race,
17, 18, 10 or race,
18, 10, and finally the marathon.

When I race instead of the drop-back 10, I take it easy during the week so I have something to give on race day and don’t injure myself. I want races to be fun and not a drag.

There is nothing sacred about this progression of miles. I just made it up on the fly. Anyone can come up with their own progression of miles, but it should increase gradually for several weeks, and then have a drop back in mileage for recovery. Interrupt the sequence at will for important races or family events, and resume the sequence immediately thereafter. Some folks make their drop-back week minus 4 or minus 5 from their most recent long run. That works too. The principle is to occasionally give yourself a break. Runners are accused of being obsessive-compulsive, so the breaks are important.

What was that, 21 weeks of training? Sounds like 5 months for me to get ready for the Atlanta Track Club marathon on Sunday, October 28, 2012; if so, I need to get 12 miles done on June 09. Given that there are several races along the way that I want to do, along with a wedding and a summer vacation, maybe I should start jacking up my mileage now, but don’t tell Mom.

Mind over matter

From 13 to 18 miles my body starts sending me signals of increasing strength that a full rebellion will be forthcoming. It usually occurs after 18 miles. What happens after 18 is just plain miserable, but it is interesting to find out how much misery I can tolerate and not die. I’ve had plenty of will in all of my marathons, but my body just couldn’t obey. My mind can force my body to move, but that is the most that it can accomplish. Weeks later, I always wished I could have run faster, but during miles 18-26, I just wanted the torture to end. During the earlier miles I didn’t want to embarrass myself; during those closing miles I no longer cared whether I did embarrass myself.

During those final miles I always made promises to God that I had no way of keeping.

She’s been quite tolerant about it so far.

Emulating Indians

As a child I saw a movie that depicted a battle between two Indian tribes. In this battle a senior member of one tribe drove a stake into the ground and affixed a 15-foot length of rawhide from the stake to his ankle. The warrior would battle any enemy who came within his 15-foot radius, and would fight to the death rather than run. I’ve always interpreted the practice as a statement of commitment, bravery, and honor. The movie depicted the younger warriors scoffing at the old warrior and his out-dated code of conduct. Presumably this was in the days of hand-to-hand combat and preceded firearms.

For years I’ve been captivated by the depiction, and wondered if the custom had some historical basis. The invention of the internet makes such an inquiry easy nowadays, and I have found references to the Cheyenne, Sioux, Lakota, and Mandan tribes.

When I run a road race I am mentally pulled back to this old movie and the old Indian warrior custom.

During a race I often I find myself scanning the people around me and trying to determine which, if any, are in my age group and need to be engaged, and beaten if possible. Some of my running buddies simply think you should run your best in every race regardless of who is close by, and I mostly agree with them on that point, but there is something missing in that judgment.

Randy is a good friend and occasional training partner who runs in my age group and usually at my speed. We often find ourselves fighting it out for 4th place in our age group. If I see Randy 20 yards ahead of me in the race, or if I simply know that Randy is in the race, it makes a significant difference over some nebulous dude up ahead who has a touch of grey in his hair and may actually be 15 years my junior. If Randy is in the race I will summon every bit of energy and resolve I have in order to beat him and have bragging rights until the next time we race. In the case of the nebulous dude, it is difficult to summon the same levels of passion.

So here’s the thing. Several years ago I watched a triathlon at Stone Mountain Park and noticed that the participants had their age groups written with magic marker on the backs of their calves, and I thought, “Ingenious!” Why aren’t we doing this in road races so we know who we are competing with? Even if race organizers aren’t doing this, why aren’t I doing this? Why aren’t I, in effect, emulating the early Sioux Indians by writing my age group on my calf, or wearing a readable “60-64” on the back of my singlet?

I look younger than I am, or so I’ve been told. It seems dishonorable to slip by some old fart in the later stages of a race and not be challenged because he doesn’t think I am his competition. I certainly can’t waste oxygen telling my age to each elderly man I pass, or who passes me; they’d think I was nuts, and they’d be right. But, what about writing “60-64” on my calf and letting my fellow old farts know that we are at war? If I am the competitive SOB I pretend to be, I should put it all out there and engage these guys head to head, by figuratively tethering myself to a stake and driving it into the ground.


Maybe I’ll start a trend.

Walk a Mile

I really enjoy the game of soccer. Watching on TV is okay, but I really love being in a small high school stadium watching a talented team of kids. Jean and I used to watch the local high school team play all the time. We liked to sit near the top of the stands so we could easily take in the whole field and the flow of the game. I don’t know why we stopped going; either too old or too lazy to make the trip I suppose.

During these games I’d get wrapped up in the action on the field and would, well, to put it politely, get a bit too verbally involved. After an errant play I might say a bit too loudly, “Get the ball down!” or “At least put it between the posts!”

There was this one game where I was particularly engaged in the action on the field and allowed my frustrations to percolate out my mouth even more than normal. Eventually the grandfatherly gentleman sitting next to me smiled and leaned over to say, “It looks easy from up here, doesn’t it?”

I had to laugh to cover my embarrassment, but I immediately realized he was so right. He was essentially stating the old adage, “Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes.” I knew I couldn’t do any better, so who was I to criticize?  I was silent for the remainder of that game, and have attempted, with modest success, to muzzle myself ever since.

As I approach retirement I am constantly reminded of this grandfather's comment at the soccer game. I know that as my final workday approaches that there will be colleagues who will review my career, or what little portion they are familiar with, and make some assessment of my abilities, successes and failures over the years. I wish that soccer grandfather could be present in such moments, and say in my defense, “It looks easy, doesn’t it?”

Surveys

A brief rant –

I have a friend who works for an organization that lacks a backbone. Whenever an issue arises, his organization inevitably proposes to do a survey of the competition. They claim that they want to determine, and follow, best practices for the industry, but to me this rings hollow. My friend tells me that they want to be a world-class organization, but simply following the trend makes you part of the trend, and not a trend-setter.

In their defense, the desire to survey the competition is completely understandable. Maybe somebody out there is doing something unique you had not thought of. That would be an admirable motivation. But there is a risk in conducting the survey in that it might influence you rather than informing you. There is the risk of lost opportunity in that you fail to engage in informed thinking. There is the risk that you instead take the easy route, and are influenced to conform by the survey, and become, well, average and indistinct.

There is a joke about two French radicals observing a mob boiling down a Paris street during the French Revolution. The one radical said to the other, “Come, my friend, we must see where this mob is going so we can lead them!” Whether at the front of the mob, or the back of the mob, it is self-deluding for these radicals to think they are leading anything.

Imagine what the world would have been like if back in history a few more individuals had the backbone to think independently rather than following the “best practices” of their time. Imagine what my friend’s organization could accomplish if they were willing to think independently rather than simply following their competition.

More Excuses

When I write these reminiscences I often find that I second-guess myself and wonder why I did this and didn’t do that. Until recently there were three events that I’ve never recognized as occurring during the same extended year. Having failed to recognize these events individually, or to put them together in a string, I’ve never pondered whether they had individual effects, or a cumulative effect. Yes, they sound like, look like, and smell like excuses. Still, I feel compelled to throw them out there. Perhaps I should have just thrown them out. You judge.

In the summer of 1969 I cut the bottom of my foot on something sharp in the Mississippi river that required several stitches. I could not run for several weeks that summer and lost whatever fitness I had. As a result I was underprepared as I went into the cross country season of my senior year.

In the winter of 1969-1970 I separated my shoulder in a wrestling match. (I won.) I could not wrestle for the remainder of the season and could not run for several weeks. Again, fitness was lost. As a result I was underprepared as I went into the track season of my senior year.

In the summer of 1970 I contracted mononucleosis and was sick in bed for several weeks and could not run. Again, fitness was lost and I didn’t feel normal again for an entire year. As a result I was underprepared as I went into the college cross country season of my freshman year.

Honestly, I really don’t mean to imply could-a, would-a, should-a. I am extremely happy with the end result. It was all good. Overcoming obstacles makes an accomplishment meaningful.

Injuries

I’ve had my fair share of injuries over the years. Wrestling in my younger years gave me two separated shoulders, a wrenched knee, and a cauliflower ear. Bloody noses and bruises were too frequent to note. Running has also given me injuries, but all of them have been muscles and tendons; nothing skeletal. I’ve pulled muscles or tendons in my buttocks, back, neck, calves, hamstrings, and ankles. Yeah, you’d think it would only be the legs. There have been plenty of skinned knees and bloody palms from falls, and countless blisters on the feet, but no occasions that are memorable given the high frequency.

Now that I am 60 I find that these running injuries have become more frequent. It seems as if I am injured for more weeks of the year than I am healthy. As I am headed out the door to go run Jean often reminds me to take it easy and not get injured. When the kids are visiting they do the same. But what fun is it to take it easy?

Doing something within my limits isn’t the least bit entertaining. I’ve run short and slow plenty of times and it’s boring. What’s fun is doing something at the boundary of my limits. The challenge of running a long distance, or running fast over a long distance, is fun. To do better than I think I can; to surprise myself; to find the upper limits of my running ability; to find how much misery I can tolerate and not break. There is a satisfaction that comes from being the mental master of your own body. Is that too Zen-like, and is that necessarily a bad thing? I think not.

Wikipedia says that “Zen emphasizes experiential wisdom in the attainment of enlightenment.”

But let’s get back to the injuries. If I’d known that racing for 15 miles on the road this fall would injure me, then I would not have done it; I’d have raced the 10-mile, or the 5, or not at all. If I’d known that one step in the middle of a 9-mile workout was one step too many and would cause a muscle pull in my calf, I wouldn’t have taken that final fatal step. I would have stopped and walked one step short of that injury. If my body had warned me I would have stopped earlier. I need a dashboard like a car.

But my body doesn’t give me useful warnings. Sure I’m tired. Sure I’m sore. It happens after every workout and every race. If I let fatigue and small aches and pains keep me from running I’d only run every other day. My adversaries would kick my butt easily in races because I’d never get in racing shape. The aches and pains are indicators, but not useful indicators. They are indicators that most runners ignore regularly. We have to if we want to be competitive.

Every runner has at least one story of going to the doctor for a running injury. Inevitably the doctor prescribes rest – the exact thing the runner wishes to avoid. So the end result is that runners avoid doctors when injured. Runners instead trade home remedies for all manner of injuries and advise each other NOT to waste time or money on a doctor because, “He’ll just tell you to stop running.”

I was looking at the results of a recent 10K road race (6.2 miles) and noticed that there were

13   60-64 year-old men,
06   65-69 year-old men,
03   70-74 year-old men, and
01   75-79 year-old man.

Okay math and statistics geeks, this may be a stretch of logic from precious little data, but I think a reasonable mind would grant that the following is in the neighborhood of truth –

The drop-out rate, due to deaths or career-ending injuries, is pretty severe.  Notice that each 5 year increment has no more than half of the previous 5-year group. The running future looks pretty grim.

From these results I guesstimate that there is

a 46% chance that I will still be running 05 years from today (6/13= 0.46),
a 23% chance that I will still be running 10 years from today (3/13= 0.23), and
a 08% chance that I will still be running 15 years from today (1/13= 0.46).

Clearly my running is going to come to an end someday due to death or injury. Still, it is difficult to imagine an injury that would keep me from running. I predict it will be death that stops me. I certainly hope it is death, as a career-ending injury would kill me.

Tom
February 2012

Cell Phones

I have meetings where some of my colleagues will read emails and text during the meeting. Sometimes they accept phone calls and walk out of the meeting for long periods of time. Nobody says anything about it, but I feel it is rude. For some bizarre reason I find myself feeling embarrassed by their bad behavior. Perhaps I am embarrassed because I never speak up about their behavior and I feel some responsibility to do so. Even so, I don’t speak up because I don’t want to put our tenuous working relationships at risk.

In my own defense, I am not chairing this meeting and I am not their boss. I am also not their mother, relative, or friend; but if not me, who should do it? Whose responsibility is it to call them out?

Yet another excuse is the attitude of general permissiveness within our society that makes me reluctant to speak out. There is this “do your own thing” attitude that was instigated by the 1960’s hippies who were into drugs and free love. Anything was okay so long as there was no victim. Anything was okay between consenting adults. No blood, no foul. Not that I can do anything about the laissez-faire attitude of society, but it just doesn’t suit me. I want to call out “Bad dog!” when I see rude cell phone use, reckless drivers, litterers, teens misbehaving at the mall, and other crimes and misdemeanors.

But getting back to the phone usage, I know it’s not a crime. It probably doesn’t even infringe on anybody’s rights. It does violate cell phone etiquette, which is either poorly understood, or widely ignored. I found the following rules of cell phone etiquette in a Computerworld article online.
Not bad. Not bad at all.

http://www.computerworld.com/s/article/9147558/Here_comes_the_new_cell_phone_etiquette

1. Lower your voice when taking calls in public.
2. Avoid personal topics when others can hear you.
3. Avoid taking calls when you're already engaged in a face-to-face conversation.
4. If you do take a call, ask permission of the people with you.
5. Avoid texting during face-to-face conversations.
6. Put your phone's ringer on "silent" in theaters and restaurants.
7. Don't light up your phone's screen in a dark theater.
8. Hang up and drive.