Armories, Lobbies, and Other Useful Ways to Avoid the Weather

It was likely the phrase uttered by most of the people in the Washington. It was a subject on everyone’s mind, and it hung like the cloud of its subject as we navigated the people and puddles to pick up our race packets at the marathon expo.

“God, I hope it’s not like this tomorrow.”

I’m referring to the weather on Saturday, of course. I do concede that the phrase was altered in various ways by the time the race rolled around—the most common of which was probably, “It’s a good thing they don’t run these things on Saturdays.” All the preoccupation with the weather was warranted, though, because Saturday stands as a wet, cold reminder of winter on the East Coast.

With my treadmill television stuck at the Weather Channel Saturday morning, I observed how the news coverage made a point to push the snow flurries out of the district. It was almost like they willed it so, to be honest. The line on their forecast screens did not maintain the arbitrary boundary I’m used to, but instead followed the geography of the city limits.

The weather cooperated with this for plan for some time. Waiting under an umbrella outside the Armory, I spoke with Lisa, a teammate from Fleet Feet Racing who regularly runs Marine Corps (MCM). She told of snow outside the city, cars being towed, and a certain degree of wonder at the whole mess Mother Nature seemed to be making. We did our best to stay dry, and were thankful to have the expo, even though it was largely pointless from a runner’s standpoint, since it shielded us from the rain.

We also took refuge in a terrific restaurant and bookstore called Busboys and Poets, a tribute to Langston Hughes and his time spent as, yes, a busboy in a D.C. hotel.

By the time we’d hoofed it to Sara’s apartment, the meaningless lines from the weather report had blown away. From the lobby of her building, we watched as the rain turned to sleet, then ultimately snow. It didn’t stick to the ground, but instead flurried and faded as it saw fit. It continued for most of the afternoon, and when we glanced out the windows from our fourth safe haven, the Portrait Gallery, we were treated to the sight of falling snow.

The winter storm sputtered to a close as we walked to dinner at a fantastic spot called Founding Fathers. We weren’t much paying attention to the weather, however, due to an overwhelming desire to eat everything on the menu. As far as pre-race dinners go, Founding Fathers is second to none. (It’s noteworthy to mention that the waitress did not completely botch the final payment, either.) By the time we exiting the restaurant, the stars were out and the wind had lost some of its consistency.

At one point I may have even said, “I can run in this.” It was a phrase I certainly felt happy to utter.

Down in the District

And by "down," I most certainly mean temperature. Here's a short rundown of the events thus far. We landed in Dulles around 3:15 EST to clouds and mid-50s temps and a sputtering, blustery wind.

After a lengthy taxi ride into Arlington and a quick hotel check-in area festooned by Sauconys and Asics and swag bags, we took the metro to find Sara and Dan, who had secured reservations at a swank spot called 1905.

We enjoyed socializing over a mostly decent meal (a fatty brisket special, an organic beef burger made with mushrooms, medium-rare [?] duck, and an order of folded spanakopita), but felt quite let down when our server's actions revealed that she didn't know how to logically divide a check between three parties. (We asked for the tab to be paid with some cash, then split the rest between two cards. On the first try, we received receipts for two cards that had been charged to split the entire bill, thus leaving the waitress with a cash tip at something like 55-60%. Once we prompted the host to correct this, we received two receipts split at an even amount, but much higher than the leftover price should have been. It appears as though she split the cash, then the check, and did so in a way that still left herself with a 25% cash gratuity.) Or maybe she knew too well? Time to write "cash" on the credit card receipts and go.

We emerged from the restaurant around 8:30 EST and found a chilly evening, light rain, and a game 7 underway. (Sidebar: I honestly don't know how folks on the east coast watch evening sports. I tried to watch the final innings before going to sleep, and had to turn the TV off in the 8th because it was almost 11 PM.)

Halloween started early here. The metro stations and trains offered an odd mix of commuters, tourists, kids, and characters. A man previewing one element of his costume, a replica jacket inspired by MJ's "Bad," garnered the most attention. The ride home nearly morphed into a on-train dance off, but a jeering adolescent's pride got the best of her.

It's morning here now, the Cards have won the World Series, and I've finished my last training jog before the marathon. It saddened me a bit that I had to resort to using a basement treadmill to run 4 easy miles. While I have the right clothing for a street run in D.C., and I would have preferred to acclimate myself to the temperature, Stephanie wisely pointed out the fact that one does not want wet shoes before a 26.2-mile run. Running with a television in your face is also, apparently, educational. I now know what a Nor'easter is.

Today we'll take the metro to the Armory building and quickly wander the Marine Corps Marathon Expo. We'll pick up our bibs, our swag, and maybe some used gloves for Stephanie to wear and then ditch along the course. Then we'll meet up with Dan and Sara for some quality friend time, then put the finishing touches on an epic week of carb loading at a place called Founding Farmers.

I'll work on a quick update later that provides bib numbers, links for spectators, and instructions on how to maintain pre-race rituals when you're living out of a suitcase.

Going, going, gone.

The last bit of gin before the marathon. It's hydration from here.

Extreme Makeover: Marathon Taper Edition

Eight days before the marathon and six days before the departing flight, we found ourselves with a weekend. The mileage was down (10 instead of the long 20s, and no speed interval in the mix), there were no essays to speak of, and a hair-brained scheme to transform the yard took root--er, form.

Stephanie and I returned from our run to find my parents destroying the ivy bordering the front of our house. 


One thing led to another and down came trees, bushes, and a few drip-system sprinklers. What emerged in its place was a lot of colorful array of brick and a lot of possibility.  

The ivy, invasive as it is, will return. But the goal will be to keep it at a manageable height. The remaining bush will still bloom, but the house now receives far more attention and air than it has in quite some time.

I also went on a tear on the western side of the house. We uncovered some ground, and located a lime tree. I also rekindled a long-standing relationship with an acacia tree. Both of these, despite being consumed at the trunk by twirling ivy vines, provide extensive coverage and sharp, stubborn thorns.

The 'rents also provided some drought deterrent additions to the landscaped portion of our yard. The only original features in the photo above are the rosemary, the butterfly bush, and the two green globs in the left and right of the photo. Another addition: the rock placed (seen in the lower left near the rosemary). I'm told there's another one coming, but I'm quite pleased with this one.

The remnants, much to the neighbor's chagrin. We filled our green waste bin, so I guess this makes me a proponent of the dreaded city "claw" that chugs around the neighborhood addressing street pickups.

Our shiny digs, at the end of a few hours' journey. It definitely alters what we'll envision as we stride through D.C. next Sunday.

When it rains, it pours.

And this week was a wet one. Here's the rundown:

Marathon:
I was slated to top out in mileage--hitting 63--before tapering next week down to 45. While it's only three more miles than last week, the subtle changes occurred in the addition of two miles to Friday's morning and two to Sunday's. Overall, the week followed an 8, 9, 8, 6, 20, 10 format, with appropriate speed work built in on three of those days.

Work:
Here's where the "rain" really started falling. Schedules collided, and I ended up accepting two different essays across three different classes. Ever non-running, non-sleeping, non-teaching (*ahem* non-blogging) moment has revolved around reading and scoring.

The work also involved preparation for tomorrow's Bronco Invitational in Folsom. The planning and registration went smoothly enough, but it always seems to take more time than it should. Coaching for 4-5 hours on a Saturday also gets in the way of running and grading.

Attitudes at work also shifted this week, thanks to Homecoming. The schedule sagged under the weight of events, costumes, a rally, a parade, and a lot of hollering. Kids were really focused on school. Couple that attitude with the essays and you get an hour or so's worth of phone calls home (which ended around 4 today).

Body:
Maybe I should change the title of this section to "When it pains, it sores."

Things are creaking. The achilles lump has tightened and, though I keep in the icing rotation, proved to be a non-issue this week. Both calves remain unsettled. The lump from Sunday's 20 miler persisted through Tuesday and led to late-night cramping. The issue eventually pushed me back into sleeping in compression socks, and even ran in them on Thursday.

This (Friday) morning the calves held up, but the pain on the left side migrated up to the area behind the knee cap. I made it through, but am now a bit swollen, a bit strained, and a bit apprehensive about going 20 and 10 to close out the week.

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I want to believe my update next week will be sunshine and roses thanks to the taper. But there's always room in the sky for a little rain.

**Addition: Saturday rolled off like any Saturday during peak training should. The early morning, the long coaching stint on my feet, and the sunshine and small lunch made for a tough twenty. I started around 1:00, in a mid-October hot spell. The temperature was in the mid to upper eighties, and the humidity was high as well.

I made it through the first seven, then kicked into the GMP for 6 more. By the third--the turn around--things were crumbling. My sodium levels were low, my muscles hurt, and the heat seemed oppressive. I wore a fuel belt, so I couldn't remove my shirt and continue to operate comfortably. I passed ultra marathoners on the course and we looked equally sapped. The problem was, I do not operate like an ultra marathoner.

At the close the sixth GMP--the thirteenth mile--I had to stop. I walked a bit, but felt the backside of my knee tightening. I started the slower-paced recovery, and found plateau. I managed to keep it going for a mile or so, but felt the need to stop again to recover. This became the operative strategy for the remaining miles.

I finished at Sudwerks, still making decent time given the circumstances. My final long run, in my final weekend building up to MCM, in my longest mileage week on record, was, by no stretch of the word, brutal.

Time to taper!

Urban Calf

Twenty yesterday, the last six of which came in my goal marathon range (6:31-6:41). The achilles fared well enough; the only tightness occurs during stretching.

Something unexpected emerged during the running, however. The upper portion of my right calf now seems to include a tightened ball/knot just below the inside of my knee. It feels muscular, obviously, but there were moments during today's miles that I felt pains in my back and hips. Stephanie had a recent diagnoses of something clumping near her sciatic nerve. Without any knowledge of what this means, but with pain springing up in all kinds of places, I can't help but wonder.

Forget Googling or doctoring, I think I'll just take Monday off and press on. Sixty three next week, and then the taper!

Back in black

The post-PR hangover is officially gone, and after a day of rest of Monday I was back at it again. Now, however, it's officially a marathon training schedule, and it's officially fall.

My body responded impressively well considering the post-race pain in my achilles and the fatigue that set in around mile nine of the race. I didn't have the typical aches and pains I felt following the halves in March and May, and appreciated the chance to build in ice and compression on the troubled spots--not just my body as a whole.

With no speed workout on Tuesday due to Sunday's race, I logged an early 8, then another 8 on Wednesday with a set of four hill sprints on the overpass. Amazingly, the pain in the heel and tendon--while still present when stretching and testing in the house--was virtually gone during the run. Even after Thursday's 9 miler (5 of which consisted of a marathon-paced tempo), I can admit with astonishment that my running is not hampered by the injury.

Knock on wood that home therapy and general TLC continue to produce positive results.

One thing to add about these early runs this week: the weather. I actually broke out the long sleeve shirt yesterday, and considered gloves today. It was spitting rain and gusty, and the clouds provided a pinkish, orange glow in the morning darkness.

The skunks came out to admire the morning as well. Today I dodged a total of five. It must be pretty funny to see someone running a 6:40 pace in the dark. But when that dude starts clapping and barking, and the flashlight strapped to his head starts bouncing about, it must look downright schizophrenic.

Stephanie informed me that we're only about two weeks from tapering. I'm sure that will sink in after my 60 and 63 mile weeks pass. Nothing says "Saturday" like a schedule that reads, "20 miles w/ last 6 @ marathon pace."

See you out there...

PR-fect.

Sundays and early alarms aren't usually precursors for great experiences. I suppose that's why I woke up before my 4:30 a.m. alarm today (at 4:21).

It was race day, so we walked over to the park in the dark and arrived at the Fleet Face racing team tent around 6:30 a.m. My ankle and Achilles felt nearly healed. Things felt a bit tight when we settled into the warm up, but all was mostly good. I found the good doctor's tent, and he gave me some special black tape along the ridge of my tendon. (For the record, I shaved far more of my leg and foot than I needed to, but oh well.)

I had some initial issues with my watch and locating the satellites a the start line, so my pacing seemed to be in question from the start. I powered down, and waited for what seemed like an eternity for the Garmin to revitalize. For the first mile, I relied upon the pacing of my teammates and the fact that I was in front of the 1:25 pacer. My watch revived about a quarter mile in. I started it up at the beginning of the second mile, and settled into the 6:19-6:25 range.

Miles 3 through 6 were steady at 6:22. I separated from Adam (my teammate), and started chipping off the per-mile pace. I locked in the seventh mile at 6:13, and started knocking a few runners off around the halfway point. It wasn't speed in bursts, but increases in the pace for individual miles. Therefore, when I passed other runners, it was gradual, methodical, and measured.

After a slightly foolish 6:07 eighth mile, I held in around the 6:13-6:19 range for the subsequent couple. I knew I would break the 2009 PR, but I wasn't sure by how much at this point. My watch, remember, didn't have my overall time, so I couldn't depend on my knowledge of the 1:25:10 time to beat, nor the location of the 1:25 pacer. I was largely alone, moreover, running in a spread field of the first 20-30 racers.

I felt fatigue in the quads around mile 9, but didn't fuel with a Gu until the water station at mile 10. I passed another man between mile 10 (Sutterville Road) and the La Rivage hotel, then swooped onto Riverside Boulevard. I felt pretty comfortable at this spot--it's actually my cool down route after my tempo runs on Thursday--so I ramped up a bit at mile 11, which brought the per-mile pace down to 6:09, then again to 6:06. Things started getting tired, however. I started digesting the Gu and my stomach felt full. A few burps helped, along with some loud volunteers at the Sutterville Road overpass who cheered and chanted as I passed.

I caught another runner just before the 12-mile marker. His shirt said, "If you can read this, I just passed you," so he had to go. He was struggling, unfortunately. His stride was more of a bound, but I gathered (and later confirmed) that he was in my age group. I said, "C'mon, baby!" emphatically, as I came up on him. He did not respond, and I don't blame him because I was him, once.

I felt most alone in the last mile even though it ended in the park with the crowds. There were a number of joggers from the 5k and a few sporadic fans spread in through the shade trees. Some teammates gave me encouragement, which helped. By my watch, with 1/2 mile to go, I cut my pace to a 6:02 mile. I never looked at it again, but my uploaded time for the final mile was 5:59.

What I erased in seconds for the 13th mile I more than made up in grimaces. But when I heard my family and saw the clock ticking through the 21st minute of the hour, I pumped my fist jubilantly into the finish line. The final results: 20th overall, 4th in my age group, and 1:21:52--a new PR.

When I tell the story from my first PR in 2009 it sounds so reckless. No watch, no team, no clear goal, and a 3rd place finish in my age group. The PR hang heavy for three subsequent halfs. The Fleet Feet training through March (Shamrock'n 1:25:43) and May (Avenue of the Vines 1:26:50) of 2011 didn't quite get me there, either. I kept coming close, though, so I thought I'd measure my progress today in seconds.

I ran confidently, sure I would finally best the 2009 time. But not by over 3 minutes. Maybe it was the training. It could have been the Garmin watch, or the practice and the recent bump up to F Group. I could credit the doctor, the coach, the shoes, the team, the wife--all of it. But it wasn't just one thing. It was a compilation, and because I believed in it, it paid off.

First day, last day.

October first, and the last day before Urban Cow.

With a cross country event in Yolo today at 8:00, I again found myself in the pre-5:00 streets of Land Park, getting a final 4 miles in before the coaching and the racing.

The morning was extraordinary. The sky held an eerie glow from the surrounding light pollution, and I could make out wispy clouds and the brighter constellations. Because I only went four, my route circled the park. But when my calendar involves longer runs, the view overhead seems far more impressive from the levee and riverside.

The Achilles and ankle feel better than they've felt since this affliction began last week, but there's still stiffness and pain. The home remedies seem to be working (foam rolling, ice on the ankle, heat on the calf, toe raises, and single-leg squats). I slept in compression socks again last night, but think that after wearing them to the invitational this morning, that will be it for me.

My physical therapist will be on hand at the race tomorrow, and he has promised to tape my ankle. I look forward to shaving half my leg later. Welcome to October, race fans!