I like to listen and watch the ocean's waves rolling in the night before a race. Think about harnessing her brute power... storing it up and then unleashing it on race day.
The invisible energy between the moon and the water.
Feeling it inside of me.
Knowing that the pain will come. But not trying to dwell on it or think about it too much the night before. Visualizing hitting my marks... pacing, splits. Reminding myself again not to go out too fast. Perhaps seeing a quick flash of a clock time at the finish line. 18:XX (5K)
Giving thanks. Giving thanks that I'm of sound mind and body and am blessed to be working off some nervous energy the night before a race. Never forgetting (even if not consciously thinking of) where I came from.
Seeking humility.
Feeling closer to God.
Monday, December 15, 2014
Thursday, December 11, 2014
Pennsylvania
Blessed to be able to spend a few days back home and running in eastern Pennsylvania.
Cold runs. Dressed in long pants, layers, beanie, and gloves. But enjoying every mile of. Hitting the hills. Running parts of the old routes that I cut my teeth on twenty, thirty years ago. Yes Thomas Wolfe... in running you can go home again.
Ran a section of the D and L (Delaware and Lehigh) trail one of the days. Started at the Lehighton trailhead and ran south along the west bank of the Lehigh River. Was a grey, damp day with temps in the low to mid 30s. Those days where any color seems to be washed out by the vast grey sky which droops down amoeba like on all sides. But in its wake a certain type of beauty seems to emerge... if only one is looking for it in the right places.
The kind of day where when I pass the old railroad electric T like poles I think of my grandfather and how he fished and hunted all around here ... these were his woods, his river, and his streams. I feel proud to be carrying on in his name. The trail curves around the base of the Blue Mountain and a find myself running in some ethereal spot that I used to have disjointed dreams about years and years ago. I can see the hi way across the river up against the other side of the gap in the mountain. Its romantically outlandish to be running here.... as if a portal has been opened into another dimension. I try n make sense of some of the graffiti scrawled high up on the over hanging rock faces. Like we used to look at as kids riding by way across on the hi way
On the way back a train goes by on the other side of the river and on down thru the valley. I run to its low groaning rumbling hum and think of nothing but just listen to the noise until it fades and fades and fades...
I felt really alive
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I did a late afternoon harder run on the towpath (in shorts, the only time) one of the days. Half mile or so in I wonder what is on the bottom of my right shoe. I stop briefly to scrape the sole off on a bench and realize nothing is there its just that my foot is numb and just feels funny. I ran to the observation tower and up the two small flights of stairs ... and stopped for a brief second and gazed out at the cold running waters of the Lehigh snaking on down thru the woods and the valley. Back down and back up the towpath running hard, running strong thru the fading daylight closing the last 2 miles in 6;11 and 5:57 pace.
Other runs I hit all the hills I could. The hills where you lick your knees and shuffle one foot and front of the other ...til you think your lungs will pop. Hills that I've crested a million times
On and on and on it goes...and I shall return yet again.
Cold runs. Dressed in long pants, layers, beanie, and gloves. But enjoying every mile of. Hitting the hills. Running parts of the old routes that I cut my teeth on twenty, thirty years ago. Yes Thomas Wolfe... in running you can go home again.
Ran a section of the D and L (Delaware and Lehigh) trail one of the days. Started at the Lehighton trailhead and ran south along the west bank of the Lehigh River. Was a grey, damp day with temps in the low to mid 30s. Those days where any color seems to be washed out by the vast grey sky which droops down amoeba like on all sides. But in its wake a certain type of beauty seems to emerge... if only one is looking for it in the right places.
The kind of day where when I pass the old railroad electric T like poles I think of my grandfather and how he fished and hunted all around here ... these were his woods, his river, and his streams. I feel proud to be carrying on in his name. The trail curves around the base of the Blue Mountain and a find myself running in some ethereal spot that I used to have disjointed dreams about years and years ago. I can see the hi way across the river up against the other side of the gap in the mountain. Its romantically outlandish to be running here.... as if a portal has been opened into another dimension. I try n make sense of some of the graffiti scrawled high up on the over hanging rock faces. Like we used to look at as kids riding by way across on the hi way
On the way back a train goes by on the other side of the river and on down thru the valley. I run to its low groaning rumbling hum and think of nothing but just listen to the noise until it fades and fades and fades...
I felt really alive
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I did a late afternoon harder run on the towpath (in shorts, the only time) one of the days. Half mile or so in I wonder what is on the bottom of my right shoe. I stop briefly to scrape the sole off on a bench and realize nothing is there its just that my foot is numb and just feels funny. I ran to the observation tower and up the two small flights of stairs ... and stopped for a brief second and gazed out at the cold running waters of the Lehigh snaking on down thru the woods and the valley. Back down and back up the towpath running hard, running strong thru the fading daylight closing the last 2 miles in 6;11 and 5:57 pace.
Other runs I hit all the hills I could. The hills where you lick your knees and shuffle one foot and front of the other ...til you think your lungs will pop. Hills that I've crested a million times
On and on and on it goes...and I shall return yet again.
Monday, December 1, 2014
Trail Racing
Ran the Carolina Beach State Park 4 mile trail race Saturday in a time of 24:38. Finished in 4th place overall out of 253 runners, and won top Masters. Nice morning spent with my Dad and some friends old and new in the running community. Picture perfect late fall day too, with clear skies, little wind, and temps in the 30s and 40s.
It was one of those days running and racing wise where things seemed to click. I felt alright on a easy 1.5 mile jog warm up with my Dad before we went back to the park... and also added some in and out sprints in the State Park ten to fifteen minutes before the 9am start.
I knew the pace would probably be pretty fast the first half mile or so on the main park road before we filed onto the trails... since its much harder to pass and make up ground there. Which is counter to how I like to begin a shorter race at a more relaxed/ controlled harder pace before getting up to race speed closer to say the 1/2- 3/4 of a mile mark. Secretly I was hoping it wouldn't be too frenetic early...which in retrospect it wasn't too bad...and there was plenty of distance to shake the field out. But nonetheless I knew the sprints would help elevate my heart rate to be more prepared for the fast early tempo.
Was in about tenth place when I did hit the trails. Its kind of surreal racing on roads and trails that I run on all the time, mostly by myself. But it also served to motivate me to do better. And it also served to put a little pressure on myself to come up with a good performance on my home turf.
I fell in behind a guy who judging from his appearance I assumed (correctly, 46 years old) was also a Master's runner. During the next 2-3 miles we would each try surges in attempts to drop the other. It was fun in a physically and mentally taxing way to be really racing someone in the race. Was also a younger guy with us too whom I kept incorrectly assuming was going to fall off our pace. Though he did late.
When in such battles I listen to the other person's breathing to get a sense of how they are feeling. I also thought about the final race scene in Once a Runner where the hero notices the shoulders start to droop on the runner he's pursuing on the final lap... therefore gauging that he's beginning to fade and tire.
Knowing the course and layout was a big advantage to have. As the two of us caught up to another runner, I plotted to commence a longer kick coming off a sharp turn and entering a longer and wider straight away on the trails. So with about 600 meters left (and I like this distance as one for a long, extended kick) I made what I hoped to be my last move and took off. The guy I had been racing said something quick like "go get 'em" which I assumed meant he wasn't going with me. But I took no chances and kept the hammer down for a good 200-300 meters until the course turned onto the last single track trail section to the finish. I kept thinking as I had for most of the latter half of the race Steve Prefontaine saying "you're going to have to bleed this out of me to beat me..."
I couldn't hear anyone behind me foot step or breathing wise then. Looping down this last trail my legs really started to tie up and I dry heaved and nearly hurled. My friend Shawn was trail side taking photos and yelled encouragement and told me to pump my arms (which was much appreciated). I had spent my capital and was done but had opened up a big gap (I did look back) and was able to cruise it home on wobbly legs across the last elevated boardwalk section and under the clock and into the finishing chute. I love being able to see the clock at the end of good races... its such a magical thing to see it when we are running a satisfying time. (though on the flip side we may curse and rue it when we just miss a pr or some goal time).
As for my Dad he had an ok race... but was upbeat and vowed to put in a little more work for the next time. For me its a little rest then some mileage/ harder work outs before a 5k on Dec 13th. Then I hope some more base building over the winter.
It was one of those days running and racing wise where things seemed to click. I felt alright on a easy 1.5 mile jog warm up with my Dad before we went back to the park... and also added some in and out sprints in the State Park ten to fifteen minutes before the 9am start.
I knew the pace would probably be pretty fast the first half mile or so on the main park road before we filed onto the trails... since its much harder to pass and make up ground there. Which is counter to how I like to begin a shorter race at a more relaxed/ controlled harder pace before getting up to race speed closer to say the 1/2- 3/4 of a mile mark. Secretly I was hoping it wouldn't be too frenetic early...which in retrospect it wasn't too bad...and there was plenty of distance to shake the field out. But nonetheless I knew the sprints would help elevate my heart rate to be more prepared for the fast early tempo.
Was in about tenth place when I did hit the trails. Its kind of surreal racing on roads and trails that I run on all the time, mostly by myself. But it also served to motivate me to do better. And it also served to put a little pressure on myself to come up with a good performance on my home turf.
I fell in behind a guy who judging from his appearance I assumed (correctly, 46 years old) was also a Master's runner. During the next 2-3 miles we would each try surges in attempts to drop the other. It was fun in a physically and mentally taxing way to be really racing someone in the race. Was also a younger guy with us too whom I kept incorrectly assuming was going to fall off our pace. Though he did late.
When in such battles I listen to the other person's breathing to get a sense of how they are feeling. I also thought about the final race scene in Once a Runner where the hero notices the shoulders start to droop on the runner he's pursuing on the final lap... therefore gauging that he's beginning to fade and tire.
Knowing the course and layout was a big advantage to have. As the two of us caught up to another runner, I plotted to commence a longer kick coming off a sharp turn and entering a longer and wider straight away on the trails. So with about 600 meters left (and I like this distance as one for a long, extended kick) I made what I hoped to be my last move and took off. The guy I had been racing said something quick like "go get 'em" which I assumed meant he wasn't going with me. But I took no chances and kept the hammer down for a good 200-300 meters until the course turned onto the last single track trail section to the finish. I kept thinking as I had for most of the latter half of the race Steve Prefontaine saying "you're going to have to bleed this out of me to beat me..."
I couldn't hear anyone behind me foot step or breathing wise then. Looping down this last trail my legs really started to tie up and I dry heaved and nearly hurled. My friend Shawn was trail side taking photos and yelled encouragement and told me to pump my arms (which was much appreciated). I had spent my capital and was done but had opened up a big gap (I did look back) and was able to cruise it home on wobbly legs across the last elevated boardwalk section and under the clock and into the finishing chute. I love being able to see the clock at the end of good races... its such a magical thing to see it when we are running a satisfying time. (though on the flip side we may curse and rue it when we just miss a pr or some goal time).
As for my Dad he had an ok race... but was upbeat and vowed to put in a little more work for the next time. For me its a little rest then some mileage/ harder work outs before a 5k on Dec 13th. Then I hope some more base building over the winter.
Monday, November 24, 2014
Hills. Thoughts. Atmosphere.
Hill repeats Saturday morning on Snow's Cut Bridge. Six of them at an average pace of 6:25- 6:30 per mile (at a length of about .35- .40 miles). Took the down parts easy this time. Trying mechanically to stay smooth and fluid... focused as well once the lactic acid starts to flood my legs about half way into each repeat. Running them all one at a time mentally. Breaking each one into sections... using the "lines" on the bridge partitions, or spray painted markings on the sidewalk. Or metal attachments on the railings. Reminding myself each time to run thru the tape. Half way thru I started to recall something I had read in a magazine article... but just as quickly that train of thought evaporated.
During one of the latter reps I thought about the chocolate milk and cookies I consumed the night before... and nearly started to puke. So I mildly rebuked myself for lack of dietary control.
But sometimes it best not to think. And just run. Maybe that's why so many of us do this. There's enough thinking to be done in the other parts of our days.
Though there are runs where a particular situation lies in my mind in a certain fashion... but by the end of the run it has shifted noticeably to some other state. Usually for the better. Why...?
Monday and its warm, humid... quite breezy and almost tropical like for late fall. I headed back to state park woods after briefly debating running an 8 mile course down into Kure Beach. There's a bit of an electricity in the air... barely noticeable, but there. Those of us who are more in tune with mother nature tend to revel in such observations. Like later when I see my friend Jimmy at the beach watching the churned up ocean's waves... commenting on where it'll be best to surf.
Run wise though I feel a little lethargic body wise... a bit heavy. So I discard the notion of running faster and instead settle into a comfortable mid eight minute mile pace. The woods are wet and some sections of the trails water logged. What a glorious day though to be out running.
During one of the latter reps I thought about the chocolate milk and cookies I consumed the night before... and nearly started to puke. So I mildly rebuked myself for lack of dietary control.
But sometimes it best not to think. And just run. Maybe that's why so many of us do this. There's enough thinking to be done in the other parts of our days.
Though there are runs where a particular situation lies in my mind in a certain fashion... but by the end of the run it has shifted noticeably to some other state. Usually for the better. Why...?
Monday and its warm, humid... quite breezy and almost tropical like for late fall. I headed back to state park woods after briefly debating running an 8 mile course down into Kure Beach. There's a bit of an electricity in the air... barely noticeable, but there. Those of us who are more in tune with mother nature tend to revel in such observations. Like later when I see my friend Jimmy at the beach watching the churned up ocean's waves... commenting on where it'll be best to surf.
Run wise though I feel a little lethargic body wise... a bit heavy. So I discard the notion of running faster and instead settle into a comfortable mid eight minute mile pace. The woods are wet and some sections of the trails water logged. What a glorious day though to be out running.
Friday, November 21, 2014
Cold November
More cold weather running the past week. Even put on long pants a few days. Which may have caused me to trip over a metal wire that crosses one of the off road entrance points I use to run back into the CB State Park. I guess I didn't properly adjust the height of my jump to compensate for the extra weight and pull of said track pants. (sometimes as I approach I do think of my steps and timing the same way a hurdler counts steps between hurdles or a basketball player does approaching the hoop for a dunk). Nevertheless I ended up with a nice little bloody gash on my left shin.
Patti came down to Chappelle Park to be trained in speed work. I didn't tell her about the gash. But I did break off two 400s. The first in sub 1:20, and then a 1:25 to show her how its done. Complete with explanations of the changes in my breathing, and lactic acid build up in my legs. Later my hip area was a little sore I think from trying to run too fast in the damn pants.
The previous Sunday I ran a 3+ mile tempo on Snow's Cut Bridge. Four times...or two complete trips over and back. Pleasantly surprised I put down 3.07 miles in under 20 minutes. Closed in a hi 5 pace. Dry heaved a bit on the second trip across near the top of the bridge (going into the wind). Three runners passed on the other side of the bridge which I think was part of an unofficial 55 mile ultra going on that day. We exchanged waves. My friend Bert yelled to me from his van.
Put down 1:47 in run time Thursday morning. Inner island trails and then back to the state park trails. Ran out of the state park again, down along the Cape Fear river on the trails that eventually lead to Kure Beach. Have enjoyed re-discovering this area, but also cognizant of the fact that technically I'm trespassing and therefore I remain a little more alert to my surroundings. Last week I did hear men out working up towards where the town has its maintenance facilities... but I didn't get close enough for anyone to see me. Then again I'm not sure if they'd care.
Went back out again in the late afternoon after a core workout of sit-ups and planks. Cut down 4 miler on the inner island trails, with the last mile on Lake Park Blvd. Closed in a 6:16 mile... controlled harder pace. Felt good... had a decent amount of pop in my legs.
Met Brandon back at the state park today for an hour long run. Enjoying some of fall foliage that we do get around here. Me telling him about how beautiful it is in Pennsylvania for a few weeks in October. Him telling me about Asheville. Took him down and out of the state park as well (disclaimer: I did mention there was a very slight chance we could be arrested). He stopped out there and took a leak while we were discussing Jason Avant being cut by the Panthers.
And so it goes.
Patti came down to Chappelle Park to be trained in speed work. I didn't tell her about the gash. But I did break off two 400s. The first in sub 1:20, and then a 1:25 to show her how its done. Complete with explanations of the changes in my breathing, and lactic acid build up in my legs. Later my hip area was a little sore I think from trying to run too fast in the damn pants.
The previous Sunday I ran a 3+ mile tempo on Snow's Cut Bridge. Four times...or two complete trips over and back. Pleasantly surprised I put down 3.07 miles in under 20 minutes. Closed in a hi 5 pace. Dry heaved a bit on the second trip across near the top of the bridge (going into the wind). Three runners passed on the other side of the bridge which I think was part of an unofficial 55 mile ultra going on that day. We exchanged waves. My friend Bert yelled to me from his van.
Put down 1:47 in run time Thursday morning. Inner island trails and then back to the state park trails. Ran out of the state park again, down along the Cape Fear river on the trails that eventually lead to Kure Beach. Have enjoyed re-discovering this area, but also cognizant of the fact that technically I'm trespassing and therefore I remain a little more alert to my surroundings. Last week I did hear men out working up towards where the town has its maintenance facilities... but I didn't get close enough for anyone to see me. Then again I'm not sure if they'd care.
Went back out again in the late afternoon after a core workout of sit-ups and planks. Cut down 4 miler on the inner island trails, with the last mile on Lake Park Blvd. Closed in a 6:16 mile... controlled harder pace. Felt good... had a decent amount of pop in my legs.
Met Brandon back at the state park today for an hour long run. Enjoying some of fall foliage that we do get around here. Me telling him about how beautiful it is in Pennsylvania for a few weeks in October. Him telling me about Asheville. Took him down and out of the state park as well (disclaimer: I did mention there was a very slight chance we could be arrested). He stopped out there and took a leak while we were discussing Jason Avant being cut by the Panthers.
And so it goes.
Wednesday, November 5, 2014
Lost in the woods
Been starting to incorporate a longer run about once a week into my routine again. Running by time and not by distance... extending it out by 5-10 minutes etc. per week. Wearing my ten dollar wrist watch on such runs as to not have any inclination to think about pace.
Such runs also serve a dual function in that they let me sort of escape for awhile from the vicissitudes of life. Which I choose to do so in the sanctuary of the woods. Today its on the inner island trails and the state park trails in Carolina Beach
I get lost in the variances of the trail, the changes in vegetation, the sounds of animals. A deer appears up ahead and then bounds off and away deeper into the forest and out of site. Later I come upon a gathering of black crows... chattering and noisy as usual, but not in an kind of bothersome way. They take flight as I approach...
On parts of the trails down along the Cape Fear River towards Kure Beach I etch crosses in the sand at certain intersections... just a reminder if need be to turn on my way back. I think about occasionally coming across other markings, lines etc along trails and wonder who put them there and why. Many years ago someone had written out Merry Christmas (or maybe Happy Holidays) with pine cones on one of the trails. I was pleasantly surprised that it lasted there for many days.
Parts of the trail are narrow, deer like trails that I must duck around and under vegetation at times. The colors now are getting a bit duller, but still quite pretty in their simplicity. Before I almost know it, its time to head home, back onto the roads, back into civilization.
The machinery of it all may be exactly as I left it... but that's ok. I know where I can go again tomorrow and the next day, and the next...
Such runs also serve a dual function in that they let me sort of escape for awhile from the vicissitudes of life. Which I choose to do so in the sanctuary of the woods. Today its on the inner island trails and the state park trails in Carolina Beach
I get lost in the variances of the trail, the changes in vegetation, the sounds of animals. A deer appears up ahead and then bounds off and away deeper into the forest and out of site. Later I come upon a gathering of black crows... chattering and noisy as usual, but not in an kind of bothersome way. They take flight as I approach...
On parts of the trails down along the Cape Fear River towards Kure Beach I etch crosses in the sand at certain intersections... just a reminder if need be to turn on my way back. I think about occasionally coming across other markings, lines etc along trails and wonder who put them there and why. Many years ago someone had written out Merry Christmas (or maybe Happy Holidays) with pine cones on one of the trails. I was pleasantly surprised that it lasted there for many days.
Parts of the trail are narrow, deer like trails that I must duck around and under vegetation at times. The colors now are getting a bit duller, but still quite pretty in their simplicity. Before I almost know it, its time to head home, back onto the roads, back into civilization.
The machinery of it all may be exactly as I left it... but that's ok. I know where I can go again tomorrow and the next day, and the next...
Monday, November 3, 2014
Painting
Colder weather running returned the past 2 days. Temps in the 30s and 40s. Had to put on a beanie and gloves for the first time since last spring. Always something ritualistic like though when coming upon that first run of the season where we dress different... ie a knit hat/ gloves... or conversely that first shirt-less run. The passage of time can be measured, and the approach of new seasons can be gauged by the clothes donned to run.
Sunday morning and I take notice to how crystalline blue the sky looks... literally cloudless as well. Contrasted against the hues of green atop the pine trees in the woods. Internally I smile in the presence of Mother Nature's art work. I recall some lines of Jim Morrison's poetry... give us an hour to let us perform our art and perfect our lives... or something to that effect. Steve Prefontaine once called races works of art that can effect people in more ways than they can comprehend.
I think about expectations. And striving with the help of a higher power to have less and less of. 'Peace is possible only when we let go of expectations" is a favorite quote of mine. And the wisdom passed on by running coach Joe Vigil to ask nothing from your running... and you'll get more than you ever imagined.
Out here some days all of this seems possible. Spiritually we are without limits. Growth occurs with every step forward, no matter the speed or the terrain. Monday as I lope along a well traveled part of one of the CB State Park trails, I try to just listen to and be consciously aware of the gentle thwapping of my sneakers on the dirt and pine straw... and the rhythm of my breathing. There's a certain cadence to it, and its like one is keeping time for the other. This of course soon passes as thoughts inevitably pop into my head. But as I look up at the liquid clear blue sky... again almost cloudless... I give thanks for another precious hour spent doing what I love to do.
Sunday morning and I take notice to how crystalline blue the sky looks... literally cloudless as well. Contrasted against the hues of green atop the pine trees in the woods. Internally I smile in the presence of Mother Nature's art work. I recall some lines of Jim Morrison's poetry... give us an hour to let us perform our art and perfect our lives... or something to that effect. Steve Prefontaine once called races works of art that can effect people in more ways than they can comprehend.
I think about expectations. And striving with the help of a higher power to have less and less of. 'Peace is possible only when we let go of expectations" is a favorite quote of mine. And the wisdom passed on by running coach Joe Vigil to ask nothing from your running... and you'll get more than you ever imagined.
Out here some days all of this seems possible. Spiritually we are without limits. Growth occurs with every step forward, no matter the speed or the terrain. Monday as I lope along a well traveled part of one of the CB State Park trails, I try to just listen to and be consciously aware of the gentle thwapping of my sneakers on the dirt and pine straw... and the rhythm of my breathing. There's a certain cadence to it, and its like one is keeping time for the other. This of course soon passes as thoughts inevitably pop into my head. But as I look up at the liquid clear blue sky... again almost cloudless... I give thanks for another precious hour spent doing what I love to do.
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