For about 5 years I was a “real” vegetarian. No beef, chicken, turkey, seafood, or anything that once had a face. And I was pretty strict about avoiding even traces of animal parts like broths and gelatin. Then, for about 3 years I re-introduced seafood but still stayed “meat-free”.
Until a couple of weeks ago I’d had genuine land-based animal flesh just a couple of times, mainly out of desperation, like when veggie options were limited at the week-long 2009 TransRockies Run and once in Ireland, when a free-range chicken sandwich was begging to get in my belly. But this summer I’ve made some changes to my diet and eating meat has been one of the big ones. I still have some guidelines, like the meat has to be from ethically raised animals and organic/anti-biotic- and hormone-free. And generally healthy, i.e. lean, lacking gristle and in reasonable quantities.
My reasoning for returning to my omnivorous ways are many but the main one is health. Yes, I know that with thoughtful preparation and plenty of advanced planning, a purely vegetarian (or at least pescatarian) diet can provide all the nutrition needed, even for an athlete. But, even with all sorts of culinary effort, I have lost as much weight – or possibly more weight – as I am comfortable with. At 6’0″, I just don’t ever want to see 140-something on the scale. And that’s not far off, as I’ve recently been as low as 150 even post-run. I need calories, iron, and protein and I just don’t know that I am willing to jump through the hoops anymore to try to get enough of all of it without meat.
Oh, and I absolutely LOVE meat. Always have and it the roughly 8 years I basically went without it, I missed it every day. Every single day. And one of the things I missed the most was jerky. Spicy, smokey, peppery jerky. Surprisingly, despite Alison’s greater dedication to be meat-free, that has been one of the few things she’s missed. Today, after a stop at a down-home-y roadside stand, I came home with this:
And life will never be the same.
Yesterday Sagan helped me harvest some of the veggies from the garden at the home where we are staying for most of the New Mexico part of our Randall Summer Travel Extravaganza, 2011 Edition. HomeExchange continues to be a truly life changing (at least lifestyle changing) opportunity for us. Thanks to the owners of our current digs, Tim and Kelli, we had the making for a homegrown, tasty, and beautiful salad to take to our other Taos HomeExchanger family for dinner:
Today was my first legitimate mountain run for the current Santa Fe-Taos-Boulder training camp/road trip/family vacation/lifestyle adjustment. I’ve now been in the mountains for over a week and while I’ve run quite a bit and the elevation has been for real, the terrain was more hills than mountains.
I found just what I needed today: a real leg-and-heart-and-lung-busting outing with some peaks and trekking poles and just a bit of highly sought after uncertainty as to whether or not I’d find myself stranded off in the middle of nowhere. I know I’m always at the risk of boring my dedicated but meager readership with too many stats and names and specificity of all kinds of running-centric details, so this time around I will try to just hit the main itinerary from the day.
At 11am, starting a bit later than intended (too often the case), I started at the Taos Ski Valley trailhead near The Bavarian restaurant, elevation 10,200 feet. (Photo below from The Bavarian website – it is sadly not open on Tuesdays during the summer.)
The first place on my route was William’s Lake, about 2 miles steadily uphill. Here’s what it looks like in winter (this one from January 2008, my first time to the lake):
And here’s what it looked like today:
Stark difference. It sure is faster – and less intimidating – in trail running shoes than in snow shoes but the snowy route will always hold an extra special place in my heart.
From William’s Lake, elevation 11,040 feet, my next stage was the serious climb up the side of a “real” mountain, to hit Wheeler Peak, the highest point in New Mexico. Over 2000 feet of climbing in about a mile and a half. For those who aren’t mountaineers or ultra-trail runners, that’s serious business. Before starting the day I thought that I might just be able to run, very slowly, the whole way to the peak. No way, I quickly found out, as my hard effort turned out to be something along the lines of a 25+ minute/mile pace for most of the way up.
Just a few weeks ago the kind and hard working folks from the Forest Service or some similar group cut switchbacks up the mountain side, meaning that I wouldn’t have the try to navigate the more direct but sanity-questioning scrabble up the face over loose scree. When I was near the top I had a 50-50 choice to make, as there are two similarly high peaks. I made the “wrong” choice and found myself as the just slightly lower Mount Walter peak.
So, I turned around and went the other way to make sure I bagged that other peak that surely has been a thorn in the side of multiple generations of Walters.
Wheeler Peak, elevation 13,161:
And the obligatory shot of me, there:
Rather than retrace my steps and again passing by William’s Lake, I opted to descend along the Bull of the Woods trail, an 8-mile, significantly easier but significantly longer return to the village at Taos Ski Valley. It was smooth going, with a few relatively small climbs but a mostly gentle downhill profile, with lots of nice, smooth switchbacks.
There were lots of critter sightings, including plenty of marmots, chipmunks, a snake, and a few dozen big horn sheep including these:
Making my way off the mountain trail, I arrived at the parking lot at the ski village – roughly 2 miles and a 1000 vertical feet downhill from where my car was parked. This was expected and I knew I’d have to make the trek back up. So, I traded the mostly rough trail for the slightly less rough road, making it back to my starting point 4 hours after I started. With the few minor detours like going off trail to make a snowball in July and to see if I could get a beer at The Bavarian post-run (I couldn’t, they were closed), I was at right about 14 miles. So, yeah, 4 hours for 14 miles. In ideal, made-for-speed conditions (flat or slightly downhill road, without a pack, at 50 degrees, well rested, etc), I think I could probably cover 30+ miles in the same amount of time. While it might be twice as far, it wouldn’t be half as fun.
“High mileage” is a relative term in the world of distance running. There are plenty of ultra-marathoners who routinely race distances of 100 miles or more in a single, non-stop race. The fastest of those folks usually cover 100 miles in less than 15 hours, sometimes even under 13. They tend to look like these guys (Geoff Roes and Anton Krupicka, two of the greatest in the sport):
There is also a growing contingent of ultra-ultra-marathoners who do things like run across entire continents, ticking off 40-60+ miles a day, day after day after day. Such feats are popular enough to now warrant dedicated websites just to keep up with the finishers and those on their way. As of today, eight people have already done so this year here in the U.S.
I recently heard that there are upwards of 1000 Kenyan runners training 200 miles per week. And I’m guessing that some of those are pretty hard miles. There are even “normal” people, with friends , and families, and jobs and plenty of non-running interests, who think little of dropping a 100 mile week now and then. [Olga, I’m talking about you.]
However, for most competitive but non-professional distance runners, marathon training schedules tend to peak at 50-60 miles. Less experienced runners training to run 26.2 often run no more than 35-40 miles on their longest week. Over the last few years, depending on the race goal and my level of running enthusiasm, I’ve probably average about 40 miles a week, sometimes getting up near 70 and, maybe once, hitting somewhere in the low 80s. For me, anything above about 60 weekly miles qualifies as “high mileage” but I have been eager to see what my body can handle, to see if 60 can be become the “no big deal” that 30 is now.
Today, with my 8th run in 7 days, I hit my 90th weekly mile for the first time. I had expected I might be able to fit in 80 miles this week but a few days ago I made a deal with myself: assuming no injuries or genuine sickness, I’d push through to see how 90 feels. Though my legs feel a little heavy, nothing hurts. Despite 3 runs in the last 24 hours, all’s well. And I was able to do my final 5 miles of the week in just under 46 minutes.
Some quick stats, mostly for me to reflect on when this week is a distant memory. Of the 90 miles, run in 8 sessions over in 5 days over the course of 7/16-7/22:
- 70+ at over 6800 ft elevation
- 74 on trail, very little of which was flat
- Average time about 11 minutes/mile
- Average temperature 80+ degrees
This running week pales in comparison statistically with the 2009 TransRockies Run (113 miles in 6 days across the Rocky Mountains) and may not seem to rise to the same level of hardcoredness but this week was meaningful in a different way. This time it was all me. No teammate to push me, no family to cheer me on, no other runners to key off of, no mile markers or aid stations or daily finish lines. I had to make myself keep running even when cutting a run short or allowing myself to alter my goal remained a constant option. I had to rely on myself to take care of my body and nutrition, carry enough water (about 60 miles I ran with my pack), and push through the discomfort of the unrelenting heat, dust, hills, and solitude.
Much to my surprise, outside of the 30K race that kicked off the 90 miles, I saw a total of 2 people running over the final 70+ miles, and that was a couple I who passed going the other direction this morning. There were a handful of mountain bikers, a few hikers, but that’s about it.
This morning’s 10 miles along the Santa Fe Rail Trail was sort of a chore but running roughly in parallel with active train tracks does offer some nice sights like this:
For my lunch break I had another first as a serious runner. I ate chicken. Since swearing off meat of all kinds about 8 years ago, I’ve gone back to eating seafood regularly and red meat on very rare occasions. But I haven’t had any chicken since I really dedicated myself to running far and, whenever possible, fast.
There are quite a few high profile athletes, especially endurance athletes, who are vegetarian or vegan but the more I work out, the more difficulty I have keeping a healthy amount of muscle. I’m long past caring about big arms or how much I can bench press but I do believe that strength is important to all-around fitness. And try as I might with beans and nuts and all manner of crunchy things, maintaining weight is tough.
That means some easing back into the most healthy cuts of meat, ideally about once a week, provided it is all the things meat should be: from ethically raised animals, ideally with room to roam and allowed to eat what their bodies naturally evolved to eat, without hormones or otherwise pumped full of medicine that gets passed on to us via our bellies. All the better if said meat can be jerkied.
So, 85 miles into my week, when I found a African restaurant that serves healthy and hearty food, including organic chicken kabobs, I was done. I must say, even if I’m only going to eat chicken once every 8 years, this is what it should be:
I woke up this morning later than planned. No, that’s not exactly right, since I didn’t really have a time in mind to get up. As often as possible, I sleep until I wake up on my own, which is typically 9.5 hours. That holds true whether I fall asleep at 8pm or 2am. Between the evening run the night before and then digging into Bill Bryson’s A Walk in the Woods, I didn’t get to sleep until about midnight.
Image via Wikipedia
That meant up at 9:30am, having missed any chance of hitting the trails before the heat. But, it isn’t like anyone is making me run and I’m really happy that, after roughly 60 miles over the preceding few days I still had the energy (or at least the will) to head out for more. So, I suited up and made it to the Rift Valley Trail by 11am with sun blazing, ran/plodded through the 10M loop in what felt at times fast but was actually some of my slowest miles in months, and was back home, showered, and fed by 2pm.
Now up to 70 miles in 6 days, my legs were feeling ok but some sporadically intense fatigue hit me. I rarely take naps but figured I better be caught up on rest before Al and Sagan arrive tomorrow. With that in mind, I crashed hard for a couple hours. Up at 4pm, I started the day for the second time. This “new” day included a short-term relocation to Santa Fe, about an hour-and-a-half south of Taos, to be ready to reunite with the Austin Randalls. Rolling into town about 7pm, I figured since it was sort of like a new day, no reason not to get in a run. Which is just what I did. I got in another 5M on the roads near the plaza, quickly showered, and headed out for a late, solo, painfully mediocre dinner at Il Vicino, a pizza joint with a line out the door for reasons still unclear to me. At least it looks cool and I had a chance to get back to Bryson’s most excellent story while dining.
It was a good day. Or two. With my 5th run in 3 days and up to 75 miles so far this week, I’m looking forward to taking a day off soon. But not tomorrow.
I haven’t given up on solid foods completely, yet. When there’s a lot to do in a day, and a lot of calories to ingest without junk food, there’s nothing like a good blender to get the job done. I take that back. There’s nothing like a VITAMIX 5200 to get the job done. Yes, I got mine just last week after much anticipation and it is very much living up to my rather high expectations. It has quickly become an essential road trip product, having logged two states in its first week out of the box. I think it is really looking forward to spending time in Colorado next month..
A big part of training a lot is eating a lot. That may sound great but it can really be something of a chore. Running on a belly full of solid anything can be uncomfortable and after a workout I’m usually more nauseous than hungry. If I’m not eating much before running and not eating much after running, there is a near certainty that I will lose weight. This is a problem, assuming I would like to maintain enough muscle to be able to still support my bones and organs and hair and stuff.
What I can do, however, is drink my calories. That, for many of you, makes sense. Just slam a few beers before the run and a few more after the run. That might, in fact, help me get the calories I need but there are a couple of problems with the plan. First, I kind of need things like protein and iron and the alphabet of vitamins, many of which aren’t found in barley and hops, even when fermented. Second, my still-fully-coherent tolerance level for beer is between 8 and 23 ounces and something close to full coherence is helpful for someone who gets lost in the woods at least 3 times a week.
From as far back as my high school weight-lifting days, I’ve been able to choke down the better part of a blender full of whatever can be liquefied. With the Vitamix, just about anything that goes in can be fined ground beyond recognition – and with a little added liquid, drinkable. My two “meals” so far today were quick, easy, super healthy, and helped me completely avoid any temptation to masticate:
Breakfast: low fat vanilla yogurt, coconut milk, strawberries (with stems), blueberries, kale, spinach, a carrot, broccoli, whey powder, ground flax seed, and ice.
Lunch/post-run recovery: coconut milk, orange juice, strawberries (more stems!, a peach, spinach, a carrot, broccoli, whey powder, and ice.
If it can be cut by knife, the Vitamix can blend it. And, if it can’t be cut by a knife, the Vitamix can probably blend it. If nothing else, I’m doing a hell of a job preparing my body and mind for a broken jaw sometime down the line.
I was going to carefully assemble the horn-o’-plenty of smoothie ingredients into a single photo so you can see just how green my greens are, and maybe even catch a glimpse of my strawberry stems. But my iPhone decided it absolutely MUST be restored to factory settings – technological adventures ahead, for sure – so my camera isn’t currently available. If you are curious as to what my counter top looks like these days, take a picture of the supplements aisles at Whole Foods and superimpose it over one from a farmer’s market. That’s about right.
Now, for something that has nothing to do with anything: my favorite urinals in all of Scotland, and maybe the world…
The last couple days have been just what I needed. I made it to Taos on Monday. Unfortunately, the weather had me turn back for my Day 1 run. Right when I got to the trail head the rain started. That’s no problem but the lighting was striking all around me and that is one of the few weather phenomenons that will cause me to skip a run.
After Saturday’s race I was eager to get right back on trail to see how many miles I could pile up in the week I’m apart from Al and Sagan. I got 18.6 Saturday, drove Sunday and Monday, and was really itching to get to it Tuesday. Northern New Mexico has been dealing with major forest fires and hot, dry conditions across the state. So, sadly, the entire Carson National Forest – the big one out here – is basically closed. That means the trails are off limits, including many of the most challenging and iconic ones. So, not as much true mountain running is available but that doesn’t mean there aren’t plenty of places to get in miles, and there is still lots of isolation and long, jaw-dropping scenic views for those willing to look.
Tuesday morning I set off on the Rio Grande Gorge Trail (West Rim Trail), completing the 18.5M round-trip in 3:20.
It is one I know well, having run all of it back in March and sections of it a number of other times. The actual trail is slightly rolling and has lots of twisting but it isn’t too technical. It parallels a crazy steep, nearly vertical, 500+ foot high valley of rock carved by the Rio Grande. I started at the north end by the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge, ran south to the turnaround at the Orilla Verde Recreation Area, and back.
On the run I started at the same time as four folks on mountain bikes. It seemed to be a guide, and tourist father and teenage daughters. It created an interesting challenge on the way out: could I beat them to the end point (my halfway point)? We leapfrogged each other for over an hour an a half but, due to their occasional breaks along the way, I was able to finish the 9+ miles about 3 minutes ahead of the group. Pretty cool.
And that was even after stopping twice, not really by choice, due to big horn sheep blocking the trail. It is desolate and dry out on the mesa and I usually don’t see much wildlife other than lizards and, in winter, jackrabbits and maybe some elk way off in the distance. But these sheep were, at one point when I was trying to be brave and inch forward towards them for a photo, only about 25 feet away. They call them “big horn” for a reason and I wasn’t sure if they were prone to charging if they felt threatened by a menacing potential predator. Or a skinny, confused looking me.
I found out later from a local that they are not at all interested in hanging out with people, either for fighting or snuggling. They often hang out near the gorge rim because they can, somehow, flee down the side of the cliff if they need to get away from danger. I’m not sure what danger that might be or how, without carabiners and climbing ropes, they can make it down any section of the cliffs.
Sheep don’t need stair climber machines is this is what they go up and down to be more “safe”:
After some blended refueling – more on that in an upcoming post – and a good night’s sleep, I was back out this morning, this time on some new-to-me trails about 20 miles south of Taos, right where I had my turn-around point yesterday. First I ran the Petaca Point Trail, which offered some nice views, including this:
I tacked on the short but technically tough half mile of a neighboring trail to get up to 9 miles, then got in another 6 on the West Rim trail that is starting to feel like a home course for me. 15 miles all together, in 2:55. I was ready to get out of the heat, which has been close to 90 at the tail end of these recent runs, and clean up. The heat isn’t horrible and the low humidity is fantastic but after 3 hours or more of running my clothes are crunchy, my body sticky (gels, dammit), and I just kind of have to knock the trail off of me. But, clean, cooled, and rested, I’ll head back out this evening if the lightening stays away.
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Just got back from run #2 for the day. This one was a bit less ambitious: a 6M out-and-back on the road from the strikingly cool HomeExchange house that is base camp for the Taos portion of the trip. I managed to finish these 6 miles in under an hour, which I’ll score as a win given the toll of the other 34 miles I accumulated in the previous 33 hours.
Of all my favorite places to run, rural back roads lined with trash-strew-hillbilly-infested-junk-pile-shacks is low on the list. Those are the spots that come one of a runner’s least favorite sights: many angry dogs who object mightily to anyone the can see, hear, or smell within about a mile. After a couple of close calls with dogs on multiple trips to Taos, I now always carry both pepper spray and, should that not do the trick, my knife. I’d hate to use either and usually the loud “back!” is enough to avoid further confrontation but I just don’t know what to do when running in rural areas. The dogs are tough and intimidating and can close on a runner from across the street in just a couple of seconds. I welcome advice from fellow runners, dog lovers, and/or anyone not wanting their groin ripped out.
I’ve never intentionally run on trails at night. Yeah, I’ve found myself pulling out a flashlight a few times at the end of an unexpectedly long run that ended up in the dark. And I’ve started quite a few long runs and a handful of races in the very early morning, before sunrise. But heading into a race with the full knowledge that the majority of it will be after the sun goes down wasn’t something I had experienced. Until Capt’n Karls 30K Endurance Race.
The event, which had both 30K and 60K races, was a 10K kind-of-a-loop course, which participants ran either 3 or 6 times. I was quite sure that 3 times would be enough for me, for now, and the distance fit well into my long run progression on my current marathon plan.
The 60Kers set of at 7pm; the 30Kers at 7:15pm. With all the literal ups and downs in trail races (this one had a lot of them, along with plenty of loose rock underfoot and low branches overhead), and their often longish distances and harsh conditions, runners spread out pretty fast. That means long stretches of solitary running, which can sometimes be peaceful but can also reduce the “this is a race” feel. Since this one included multiple loops, different starting times, and an out-and-back to an aid station at the midway point, we were able to cross paths with fellow runners more often than usual. That was really nice, as I often otherwise find myself running completely alone without even seeing anyone for long stretches in other races.
My first lap, which took just under an hour (58 minutes, I think), had me on track for a sub-3 hour race. I knew that was unlikely. Even if my waning energy didn’t slow my pace, the imminent darkness would. By the time I reached the midway point of the race, it was headlamp and flashlight time. This was much anticipated but not entirely wonderful news. The good part was that the near-100 degree race start temps would really start falling (ALL the way to the 80s by the end of the race!).
The less-good part was that now, after running reasonably hard up and down hills in the sun for over an hour-and-a-half, I now had to do it all over again in the dark. But, that’s what I signed up for and I was happy with where I was at, even allowing myself to smile when nobody was looking.
With a gel every 20 minutes and a salt pill every 30 minutes, my stomach felt good, my legs felt strong, and my spirits were up. No cramping, no dehydration, no bonk. All that remained true all race long, with only a twinge of leg cramp for a moment close to the end. But that’s not to say that the race went entirely smoothly.
After that first lap, coming through the start/finish area, I was so surprised how quickly I was moving and how great I felt that I didn’t stop at my drop bag (a cooler with stuff I’d need during the race). I just ran right back on the course for lap two. Only about 30 seconds later, I realized I didn’t grab my headlamp and flashlight, which I’d certainly need at some point on the upcoming lap. So, I ran back, grabbed the almost-forgotten lights, and was quickly back on the trail. But, that minute or so got me a bit out of the zone I was so happy to be in, and it lost me about a minute on the race. Still, not big deal in a multi-hour race.
Just after the halfway point right it was fully dark I made a wrong turn, as did another runner or two, and ended up somehow heading back towards the aid station we had just come from, rather that onward on the loop. This was a short back-track, ,aybe 2 minutes, and luckily the runners coming towards us were able to get us going the right way again. Back heading the correct way again, I was glad that the couple of mistakes were minor. There’s nothing like being really off course, knowing that you are losing time, wasting energy, and dealing with an unproductive adrenaline spike that comes with the realization that you will possibly remain lost for a long time. Luckily that wasn’t the case.
At least for another 20 minutes. Nearing the end of loop 2, I believe now at either the point marked “d” or “e” on the course map, I missed a turn. Of course, I didn’t think I missed a turn or I’d have gone back. And I didn’t realize it for a while. I was running alone and no longer could locate the course markings. The “confidence ribbons” (thin strips of pink plastic hung from trees with clothespins) just stopped. I was still on a trail but it soon became clear it was not the trail. I didn’t figure out where I was until the Park Entrance came into view and that was decidedly bad news. While I knew where I needed to go to return to the race route, I immediately knew I lost some real time for this mistake. My guess is that this one cost me 5 minutes or more.
Finally back on course, I was both relieved and frustrated with myself. But, if I’m going to make a wrong turn, I’d rather it add distance than cut the course so I knew, at least, my eventual finish time wouldn’t need an asterisk or explanation. Passing through the start/finish area, I was at least feeling strong and I think the second lap took me about 7 minutes longer than the first, most of the added time due to the extra half mile or more of screw ups.
I bolted (ok, just kept moving forward) into the 3rd lap. At roughly the same spot where, about an hour before, I realized I needed to turn back for my lights, I realized I didn’t replenish my supply of gels. Turning around yet again I made it back to my bags. The comedy of errors put a smirky grin on my face – this wasn’t an “A” race and I’m glad I was, even in the moment, able to keep perspective. That’s not ordinarily a strength of mine but I think endurance sports have helped me better deal with life’s little fuck ups, at least when my heart rate is above 130 beats per minute.
The last lap was largely uneventful. I steadily moved up in the field throughout the race and though I slowed on the last lap, I still felt good and was passing people. My legs weren’t steady enough and my mind not confident enough in the dark to attack the downhills like I normally really like to but I was able to keep running and finished in 3:23:25.
My time was initially good enough for 16th place out of 150 entrants. But, when a number of 60Kers dropped at the halfway point in their race, the results were amended to add them to the 30K race. [I’m not sure how I feel about this – part of me says if you don’t finish the race you signed up for, you should get a DNF but I do realize that those affected did run the same course I did and on the same day so it isn’t unreasonable to include them in the 30K list.] That bumped me down to 19th out of 174. Still a decent showing and it was nice to finish without feeling gutted.
Notably, Andres Capra, my crazy running partner and friend, finished in 3:06:06, good for 9th place. And his friend, Ted Larison, who is quickly becoming my friend, too, finished in 3:59:34, good for 53rd place. Andres may have run faster but Ted’s performance was arguably more impressive. Ted started running regularly only a few months ago. This was his first running race ever and he chose to start with a hard course in the heat and in the dark, at a distance longer than he had ever run in his life. Good job to both of them and I look forward to a lot more trail time together soon.
I was going to pay for a digital pic or two from Enduro Photo, the company that captured the event. They, like many of the race photographers, do a good job, often under harsh and unpredictable conditions. But, I just can’t justify spending $30 PER PICTURE for a digital download. $5-10 each, probably. $20-25 for the package of the ones I’m in, possibly. But something is out of whack with the pricing model. If you’d like to view the conspicuously water-marked proofs, they can be seen here.
My last couple of runs sound pretty similar. Both 8 milers, both on the treadmill, both averaging a bit of 8mph but the “high level of perceived exertion” (better known as “pain” outside of endurance sports world) was significantly more intense in the second of the two runs. The first, on Tuesday, was a “downhill” treadmill run with about 7% decline, where I was able to cover the 8M in about 56 minutes, continuing to accelerate and feeling strong throughout. The second, a marathon-pace run earlier today, was mostly flat, with a number of short stretches up to about 3% incline in the first half. Today’s 8M took 59:42 and hurt even in the early miles. I was able to run it all, though I did allow myself to slow to a jog for about the first minute of the 8th mile. Even so, I’ll need to gain quite a bit more fitness over the next 10-12 weeks to be able to sustain that sort of effort for over 3 hours.
I skipped my Monday recovery run due to some heel pain but was able to do a solid 1M swim, which I repeated on Wednesday. Overall, I feel like my swimming is getting stronger and marginally more natural but I think any big leaps in performance will have to wait until I get some proper instruction. I still enjoy the swim workouts most of the time, though I don’t see myself ever itching to get out for a swim like I do with running. But, swimming is a good workout and it doesn’t beat my body up. My usual 36 laps (just over a mile, actually) takes 36-38 minutes with touch turns and the sessions feel sort of like a cross between repetitive easy stretches and very high rep strength training. Like running, swimming can simultaneously be mentally relaxing and physically taxing. Unlike running, there’s little to play off of for inspiration or motivation. No music (or movies/shows like I get on the treadmill), no scenery, no conversation, no landmarks in the distance to shoot for. Sometimes it’s nice to just have the time in my head but more often I find myself eager for the workout to end after 20-30 minutes.
I decided to enter a 30K race this coming Saturday, in lieu of my previously scheduled 18M for Friday. It is a rare night-time race, starting at 7pm and likely going (for me, at least) until 10:30pm or later. We’re in the midst of a typical Austin-in-July heat wave, with daily high temps reaching 103-105 degrees. So, a hot 30K trail race on an unknown course the night before I depart for some high mileage altitude training in New Mexico and Colorado seems like a good way to get my legs, lungs and heart ready for what comes next.
The 30K will be the first of what I expect to be about a week of long runs, most of which will be in the Sangre de Cristo mountains in northern New Mexico. The race will immediately precede the 2-day solo drive, where I’m hoping to get in a run somewhere exotic like the Holiday Inn Lubbock. I’ll likely forego some of the “race specific” training while in the mountains, instead enjoying what the conditions and terrain give me. I’ve been ticking off quite a few quality running sessions these last 6+ weeks and will pick up the more structured training schedule no later than mid-August. But for 3-4 weeks, I’m going to let myself do what I love most – head out for long, meandering back country trails in the mountains, in the valleys, and on the mesas.
I’m sure every visitor to this blog wants to read every minute detail about my training. But, in case I’m wrong and there is someone out there who is just scanning for a cute or interesting photo, I’m going to try to include one on each post going forward. When I have one that is relevant, that’s what I’ll go with. Otherwise, it could be one as random as this:
I’m 36. It’s a good age to be. I have the benefit of nearly two decades of adulthood, with a strong likelihood of at least a handful more decades to continue to experience the world and determine who I will become. I find myself stronger and healthier, physically, emotionally, and psychologically, than I was at 30 or 25 or 20. And more confident and satisfied with life, having been able to productively channel a lifetime of neuroses, insecurities, and anxieties about who I am and who I want to be.
That’s some of what I was thinking about right before my physician asked me to turn around, rest my arms on the table, and place my right foot on the step stool. Then, without any fanfare, her well-trained and thankfully slender finger quickly verified that my prostate is, as one would hope, both smooth and petite. And that was that.
It had been about 5 years since I’d had a proper physical exam and, with so much training and racing ahead this year, and no longer being a “healthy young man” (I think “young” stops sometime before your first-born child’s 5th birthday), it was time to get checked out. So I got poked and prodded and jiggled, in the name of being a responsible adult. All went well – nothing worrisome inside or outside, despite some minor rips and tears (shoulder, ribs) that I’ll have indefinitely, or until I get annoyed enough to warrant further action.
The really uncomfortable part of the process came the next morning, when I went to have my blood drawn. Normally, this is no big deal. I’m super veiny and not particularly squeamish about needles, blood, or controlled pain. But, for reasons never made clear to me, the kind lady with the needle bypassed a number of eager, engorged veins, instead seemingly looking to challenge herself to extract blood from some deep and unseen magical pool of blood buried in the crook of my arm.
It hurt in a way that drawing blood normally does not and, after digging around just enough to fill one of the two vials, she relented and went with one of the more prominent veins in my other arm. The second attempt went well – no pain, quick and uneventful exit of blood. But in the minutes after I left the lab the first poke (far worse than any of the previous day’s poking), started hurting, as if often said, like a mother-fucker. My somewhat contorted elbow self-portraits don’t do artistic justice to the scene of the accident but here’s what I came away with:
The swollen mass of mess was about the dimension of a good-sized super-ball, with a similar rigidity. I found out, just a little later the same day, that neither pull-ups nor swimming do much to reduce swelling or pain.
Good news from the lab report is that whatever numbers the doctor wanted to see, she saw. I guess I have good blood. The report was solid enough that I was instructed to “keep doing whatever it is you’re doing” and I can come back in a few years to do this all again.
Another step up in my speed work progression. I had 5 X 1M scheduled but wanted to push a bit harder to see where I’m at. Getting the 6th rep wasn’t easy but wasn’t horribly painful, either. I figured adding these reps would really test my cardio but I’m finding the greater challenge to be the strain/fatigue on my legs. Thumping chest and heaving lungs aside, it is just tough moving my already-tired legs that fast for rep after rep. But, each time I get through one of these sessions, both my confidence and fitness improve and it shows me that it is ok to hurt a little and I am, in fact, getting faster and stronger each week.
This Thursday’s 8M marathon-pace session will be another solid test, as will the 30K night-time trail race on Saturday. Running fast on tired legs, week in, week out, is sort of retraining my body to keep moving even when (especially when) I’m less than fully rested. It should make similar speeds feel downright comfy after a taper come marathon time.
Kind of Like Fun 