Body versus Brain

This article first appeared in the April edition of Northwest Runner magazine.

I have a few Real Running friends who have coaches and trainers. I understand the appeal of that. I’ve never really wanted a running coach, but I think it would be nice to have a running shrink.

I’d pay good money to have a sports psychologist pedaling alongside me as I struggled into the late miles of a long training run, or as I approached the halfway point of a marathon. Because that’s when running becomes more about Brain than Body. Body will keep going pretty much forever if you can get Brain to tell it to do the right things. But my Brain is weak. As soon as Body starts complaining, Brain gives in. 

“Ok, Body. If you want to stop, let’s stop.”

I need a professional to work with Brain and get him to exert his authority over Body.

But I don’t have one, and the running budget is already consumed by my shoe-buying habit. Luckily, my Brain is weak, so I can trick him. Over the years I’ve learned how to confuse Brain so that Body has to keep running.

Delusions of Grandeur

I find that if I can remind Brain that we are doing this for a payoff at the end, he tends to help me out. Brain loves the feeling of finishing a marathon. Body doesn’t care. I’ve been known to spend a few miles imagining crossing the finish line with the clock reading 3:15:00. A Boston Marathon qualifying time! Brain gives me a little jolt of adrenaline during this daydream. Of course, this works even better during an actual race when I am on a good pace and have a shot at a good finish time.

Perfect Pacing

On my last run my first two miles were identical. Perfect splits. “Well now,” I thought, “Here’s a chance to get Body and Brain to collaborate on a project!” In aiming to keep that perfect pace, both Body and Brain sort of forgot that they were running, and the miles clicked by at the same rate.

Do the Math

If I want to confuse Brain, math is a sure fire weapon. It turns out there is all sorts of math you can do while running. Pace, Time, and Distance are good. Predicting how far I’ll have run at a certain time, determining how fast I need to run to make a certain distance, or even just counting things I see can keep Brain so occupied a can steal a few miles from Body without complaint.

Name That Tune!

Much to my friend RPD’s dismay, I’m one of those guys with the white earbuds jammed into my ears when I run. Sorry. But the music being piped directly into my skull has the effect of distracting Brain for several minutes at a time. My trick? I reload the MP3 player with a random selection of tunes before each run. Then I play a little “name that tune” with myself. It can be a challenge when the obscure B-side tunes come up, but that’s the point. Also, it is against the rules to skip to the next track. Brain has to listen to whatever comes up, which can be painful if some of the Teenager’s music ends up on my MP3 player.

The Buddy System

I like to do long runs with my buddy Cap’n Ron. For the first half of the run we chat and catch up on work and other topics, and in the last half we just suffer together. It’s a very co-dependent relationship to be sure. Just having Cap’n Ron running nearby keeps Brain alert. The good Cap’n and I take turns setting the pace, so Brain gets to be in charge for a while (which Brain loves) and then gets to take a break for a few miles.

Reward Systems

Brain thinks he knows what Body needs. Water, fuel, and rest usually top the list during a run. I’ve found that if Brain knows there is some water at the next mile marker, he will do his best to convince Body to get there. In last year’s Seattle Marathon, Brain was excellent in this capacity. With fuel stations every two miles, Brain had Body convinced that he only had to go two miles at a time. That’s a clever way to get through the last 10 miles of a marathon. 

The Runner's Dictionary. Part Two.

We start this week's post with a few more entries into The Runner's Dictionary. Thanks to those readers who sent me the questions that, I hope, these definitions answer.

Jog (v). Slow running or fast walking. Despite years of research and argument, no one can quantify the lines that separate jogging from running or walking. Jogging, therefore, is in the eye of the jogger. I was going to go running, but decided to do an easy jog instead.

Kilometer (n). A unit of measure that is used for every distance race except marathons and half marathons, which for no apparent reason are still measured in miles. See also: American arrogance.

Right of Way (n). The basic rule of thumb for right of way situations seems to be as follows: we always think we have it, in all situations, and at all times. If you are in a crosswalk, you have the right of way. If you are dashing across a street without a crosswalk, you have the right of way. If you are running across a road-cut in the Burke Gilman Trail? That’s correct. You have the right of way. Running four abreast on a narrow trail and faced with an oncoming mountain biker? Right of way. Running in a bike lane because you like the paved surface better than that of the sidewalk right next to it? Right of way.  Never mind that in all of these situations you probably don’t have the right of way according to the actual law.

Running (n, v(ger.)) Walking really fast. Historically reserved for the purpose of fleeing danger or pursuing prey. Now running is a something we do for recreation and fitness, even though there are perfectly good bicycles to be found everywhere.

Pain (n). The inevitable result of running. Contrary to popular opinion, there is no distinction to be made between “good” pain and “bad” pain. Pain, by definition, is negative. Bad. The physiological purpose of pain is to signal you that something is wrong with your body. So…by all means, run “through” that pain. Sheesh.

Have a word you need translated into runner's parlance? Send it along and I will post it in a future edition of The Runner's Dictionary.

The Runner's Dictionary. Part One.

Oh jargon, where would be we be without you? How could we subtly alienate the people around us who aren't involved in our games, jobs, past times, relationships, addictions, clubs, and families without jargon?

How would we signal others that we belong to some tiny little part of their world if we didn't share some common language that belonged only to us?

Whether jargon primarily alienates or includes is an argument for another day. The fact is every sport or activity comes complete with its own vocabulary. And running is no different. This week, Real Running presents the first of a yet-to-be-determined number of selections from The Runner's Dictionary.

___________________________________________________________________________

Aid Station. (n) In a running race, an aid station is where the fuel is. Theoretically. For some reason there are always more of these, closer together, in the early stages of a race when you don't need them. Also for some reason, they always have the one favor of GU that you can't stand, followed by an energy drink you have never heard of but that tastes something like improperly mixed Crystal Light. Volunteers at aid stations secretly hate you for not being able to toss your paper cup into one of the dozen garbage cans along the route.

Body Glide. (n, proper). A magical substance, sold in the form of an underarm deodorant stick, that coats the skin to stave off chaffing. Seemingly expensive. Worth every penny. The author figured that if he plugged Body Glide often enough in his columns, maybe the company would notice and send him a free supply of their product.

Bonk. (v). (n). To inexplicably and undeniably run out of energy and the will to run even one more step at the current pace or effort. Bonking is usually associated with a lack of fuel and is most common on long training runs and in races such as a marathon or a half marathon. You know you have bonked when the mile before was perfect and the current mile feels ten times longer, the road ten times steeper, and your feet ten times heavier. In theory, one can "run through" a bonk and suffer to the end of the run. Dude, I was fine for 13 miles and they I epically bonked. See also: Hit the Wall.

Chafe. (v). (n). Skin abrasion caused by anything rubbing against the skin, including other skin. Usual locations: nipples, thighs, and crotch. Seldom noticed until the post-run shower. See also: Body Glide.

Cruise Control. (n). A runner on cruise control has labored through his or her warm up phase and has not yet reached exhaustion. When on cruise control, the runner feels as if the miles are shorter, the roads are flat, and the day a perfect one. On cruise control, one can seemingly run forever. This rarified condition is so rarely achieved that most runners believe it too be mythical, like Valhalla. Or Auburn. Cruise control running usually ends in a Bonk. I hit mile two and was totally in cruise control for a few miles. Then I bonked.

Fartlek. (n) A specific training technique with a weird name. Many new runners, having only heard this term and not seen it in print mistakenly think it is "fart lick," and assume it means to run really close to the ass of the person in front of of them, like drafting on a bicycle. You only have to try this technique once to be taught that indeed you are not supposed to run that close to someone you don't know. Fartlek literally means "speed play" in Swedish or something, which I find hilarious because "play" implies fun. And running is never fun. Anyway, fartlek running is unstructured speed work, in which a runner mixes intense speed effort with easy running at his or her whim. Yes, it is a real thing. Who knew? I don't want to do actual speed training, so instead I'll go out and do a fartlek.

Finkel. (n). A Finkel is a run of approximately five miles, or "five-ish." Fyvush Finkel is a well-known Jewish actor who, as far as we know, doesn't run. This term dates as far back as 2008, and has so far been limited to usage in my household. I'm heading out to do a quick Finkel. Be back in an hour.


Flats. (n) Racing shoes. Light, completely unsupportive, and typically gaudy in design, flats are meant for short distances and soft surfaces. But some of us are convinced that their light weight gives us enough of a performance boost to offset the inevitable stress fractures and shin splints that are a direct result of wearing them in long races.

Half Marathon. (n) A 13.1 mile race. An attainable goal for most every new runner, and a distance that is both challenging and physically reasonable. Research suggests that anything longer than this is ridiculous.

Hills. (n. pl) Flat running surfaces that are tilted up. No one knows why they exist or what their ultimate purpose is. Nor can anyone explain why the same hill is steeper on certain days than on others. Even more perplexing is how otherwise flat runs become uphill over time. See also: to school, both ways, in the snow.

Hit the Wall. (v). Similar to a bonk but with some nuanced and important differences. When one hits the wall, the run is over. There is no getting over or around the wall. When a runner hits the wall, he simply stops, sits down, and cries as first his calves, then his hamstrings, and finally his lower back cramp up and cripple him. In very rare cases runners hit an actual wall. Late in the Seattle Marathon last year, I watched as two stumbling runners, clearly working through an epic bonk weaved off course, tripped over one another and a curb of some sort, and careened into a concrete wall. Luckily there was an aid station nearby and a volunteer brought them a 4 ounce Dixie Cup of water and some Chocolate GU. I knew I was in trouble when my heart rate shot up, and then I just hit the wall.

-ish (suffix). Added to any mileage estimate, an "ish" allows the runner to leave room for an early bail-out or a lengthened run all while maintaining plausible deniability, the gold standard for the defense of any action. For example, a run of 8-ish miles can be anywhere from 6.5 to 10. Today's run plan is to do 6-ish miles and see how I feel.




Stay tuned for Part Two of The Runner's Dictionary next week! And as always, don't forget to check out my column in Northwest Runner Magazine. Do you have an entry for The Runner's Dictionary? Send it to me at gregsrealrunning@gmail.com

The Unmentionables

I stopped in at a local running shop this week to browse and chat up the owner a bit. The new spring running clothes were in. The shoe wall called to me and almost convinced me to try on some new kicks. The owner and I talked about training, about marathons, about running groups, and about the weather. Of course.

When an actual paying customer came in, the owner excused himself and I spent a few minutes flipping through the running magazines near the counter. In addition to a fresh copy of Northwest Runner, the usual national suspects were present. So I grabbed one and did a little reading. A lot of beautiful people in perfect running clothes! A lot of sound advice for diet plans and injury prevention.

And a lot of advertisements for gizmos, gadgets and various goops.

Still nothing about the things we really want to know. I guess I don’t blame the slicks for not writing about the unmentionables, but aside from unfortunate personal experience, how is a runner to learn?

Have no fear. I don’t fear the unmentionable. Here we go…

What Are Those Red Spots on His Shirt Right Where His Nipples Should Be?

Well son, that would be blood. From the chaffing. Of his nipples. Which, if he is lucky, are still there. Stand at the finish of any distance race and you will see several poor souls triumphantly cross the finish line with the infamous bleeding nipples. I’ve never suffered the complete bleed-through like the chap in the photo above, but even without the blood loss, the chaffing is enough to only let it happen to you once. Stepping into the shower with chaffed nipples is not the most pleasant experience.

Why does it happen? Nipple chaffing happens most frequently on long runs and usually in races. It’s totally possible to go through an entire marathon training circuit and never have this happen to you. Then, at mile 18 in the race, you become “that guy.” First of all, check your shirt choice. Technical fabrics, especially those with an open weave (read: rough surface) are the worst offenders. But even if you run in those shirts all the time, it may only happen to you in a race. Why? The pinned on race number. Yep. The added weight of the number and the pins makes your shirt move around more than normal, and that movement turns into chafe.

I find it also happens more if I have a jacket or vest on over a technical shirt. And even more than that in the rain.

The solution? Don’t run. Duh. But if you must run, be generous with the Body Glide. Slather that stuff on. Don’t be shy. Some people find that compression tops solve the problem as well.

Does a Runner Poop in the Woods?

One of my running friends, who will remain anonymous for the moment, has a very minor case of incontinence. She can’t even laugh without peeing her pants a little, which we all find endearing and sweet. And when she runs, well…in races she just sort of lets it fly. Can’t blame her.  I’ve seen this tactic employed at just about every race I’ve entered.

But things get a little more serious when a runner needs to poop. If you have to, you have to, and there is a point of no return that most adults can’t remember because they don’t put themselves in the situation like runners do. But the combination of the impact of running, a runner’s diet, and the alarming lack of public restrooms in our world make it pretty likely that anyone who takes up running will find themselves doing the “duck walk” around a local park hoping against hope that the bathrooms aren’t locked for “maintenance.”

The good news is that with a relatively consistent diet and running plan, your body will train itself to shut down a bit while you are running distances. Beware though. Altering that plan too much can lead to disaster. The night before last year’s Tacoma Narrows Half Marathon I indulged in a little Thai food a lot too late into the evening. The race was an adventure in port-o-johns.

The bad news is that when it happens, it happens. And there is a point where you are reduced to begging someone to let you use their bathroom or to finding a discrete space in the great outdoors. I called around this morning on your behalf to learn the following, just in case:

Defecating in public is considered littering and is a misdemeanor. “Unless,” the friendly woman at the Lynnwood Police Department said, clearly reading from the state laws on the subject, “the amount is more than one cubic yard. Then it’s a gross misdemeanor.”

To say the least.

There was something else in there about indecent exposure, but I figured you all knew to be discrete.

The solution? Don’t run. Duh. But you do. So the best solutions are a combination of consistent diet (cutting back on the fiber the day before a long run is a good idea) and pre-planning. Get up early enough before a race or a long run to let your body’s systems do their job. And just like when you were a kid getting in the station wagon for a long road trip, go to the bathroom ONE MORE TIME before you leave the house. Just in case.

And as a side note, there is not a single public restroom anywhere in the city of San Francisco on a Sunday morning. Don’t ask me how I know this…

What’s That Smell?

I love technical fabrics. They wick moisture away from the body, they look good, they last a long time, and they are nice and light. But here’s something only your partner really knows: they stink. Not at first, but eventually they develop a funk that no amount of detergent can combat.

There is nothing that the owner of the stank can do to determine when the end is upon his or her favorite shirt. You need an honest friend or partner to tell you the lifespan has reached its end. If you’ve ever accidentally left a load of washed laundry in the washer for a couple of days, you know the smell.

And I’m sorry to the manufacturer and promoters of any product that claims to get the funk out of technical fabrics, but there is a point where it just isn’t possible anymore.

The solution? Run MORE. Ha. You thought I was going to say “don’t run.” The answer to this problem is so clear: run more events so you have more “free” shirts.

Or better yet, check out this site: http://promotionevents.com/Shirts/Home.htm where they are selling shirts from past local events for next to nothing. Go ahead, stock up.

Also, throw out the old. No one needs a nasty old shirt from the 2003 Seattle Marathon. Sorry. (Just don’t look in my “running shirt drawer”. Do as I say, not as I do.)

Your turn: Unbury those horrifying moments and share them with the Real Running Nation. You suffered so that others may learn. Click on "Comment" below and share your misery.

Start Me Up

This article originally appeared in the March 2010 issue of Northwest Runner.

I’m standing in the rain in front of my house getting ready to set out on a nice five mile run around the neighborhood. I’ve laced and re-laced by shoes a few times. I have spent a few minutes fiddling with my GPS watch. Haven’t moved a step. It isn’t until Nosy Neighbor starts staring at me from his front porch that I finally push “Start” on the watch and shuffle my feet on down the road.

For me, running gets more enjoyable as the miles disappear behind me. Once I get going, no problem.  And that got me thinking about the topic for this month’s edition of “Real Running.” Why not start at the obvious place? Getting started.

Starting from Scratch
For those of you wanting to start running for the first time, there are some absolute rules for you to follow.

1.     Reconsider your decision to start running. You’re about to start something you might not be able to stop. Give it some serious thought. If after some deliberation you are still committed to becoming a runner, move on to #2.

2.     Start SLOWLY. Your first run should be less than two miles and it should feel like you are going too slow. Kids with training wheel bikes should pass you. Sure, you can probably run faster and farther than that. But don’t. If you go out and run to exhaustion on day one, no part of your body is going to be happy lacing up the shoes and going out again the next day. And the next day you should run just a little farther.

3.     Track every step. This is something I learned when I took up (and quickly abandoned) golf in college. The best thing you can do when you start is to count every stroke. You’re going to post a high score, but you can only improve from there. Your first runs should be slow and short so you have a chance of improving as you go.

4.     Just run. If you’re just starting out, don’t forget that running is a very simple endeavor. You don’t need a complicated plan or calendar. Just put on some shoes and run somewhere.

Starting a Race Plan
Some people actually run “just for fun.” Honest. But training for a race might be the ultimate motivator to get started and to keep going.

I paid for a training plan from a well-known running coach when I was preparing for my second marathon. When I opened the file and started reading my eyes went crossed and I started getting the same nervous shakes I used to have before my statistics finals. So complex! According to this plan, I had to give up my job and my girlfriend in favor of training for a marathon that I merely hoped to finish, not compete in.

After training for five marathons with varying degrees of success I have developed Greg’s Commonsense Race Training Plan. It works for any distance and you can keep your $30 to spend on beer after the race. I’ll meet you at the bar.

1.     Run consistently. Never take more than one day off in a row.

2.     Mix it up. Do at least one “long run” a week and get one true rest day a week. Run slow sometimes. Run at your planned race pace once a week.

3.     Don’t get hurt. This means don’t push it. There is no reason to run race distance and race pace at the same time in your training. (I am terrible at this, by the way, and almost always hit the starting line with a nagging injury.)

4.     Have fun. I mean, come on. Are you really going to win? Set a realistic goal, train with it in mind, and enjoy yourself. Don’t make this into work. If you can’t smile while you’re running, you are working too hard.

Starting a Run

The warm-up phase of a run is the worst. If it’s actually cold out, it is even worse than that. I’m weak-minded enough that I can talk myself out of running before I ever take a step, so I’m not a great role model here. I do know one thing that works well for me:

Public shaming. I find that if I post “going for a run!” on my Twitter or Facebook pages, I am pretty much committed to it at that point, because someone is going to ask how it went.

Which reminds me, you can follow me on Twitter @ http://twitter.com/realrunning

Don’t forget to bookmark this blog, which will feature expanded versions of my monthly columns and weekly updates as well.

Running on the Road

I write this from 33,000 feet over the Nevada desert, two hours into a five-hour flight. I was going to go for a run once I checked into my hotel, but I can tell already that my body has other plans. I travel for work frequently enough that I’ve been able to log miles in a several US cities, and I like to think I’ve learned a little bit along the way.

I always have the best intentions when it comes to running while I’m traveling, but it can be seriously difficult to get out there and log miles away from home.

Packing

If you are anything like me, there are more pairs of running shoes in your closet than anything else. I rotate through shoes like a madman, wearing different shoes for different runs and giving each pair ample time to rebound after I’ve put some miles on them. I’m afraid to count how many there actually are.

But when I travel I have to balance this against my strong desire to not check luggage whenever possible. I’ll spend $150 on a pair of shoes, but I’ll be damned if the airline is getting $15 to put my suitcase on their plane.

So there I stand, staring at my shoes. Which ones get to go with me? How many pairs should I take? And what about running clothes? Jackets? Hats? Socks? I have to go minimal. For a one-week trip here is what I pack:

• 2 pairs of shoes. Usually I wear one of them on the flight and pack the other. This means only one pair of regular shoes get to go along. And this means that all of my clothes need to work with the same shoes. Sorry colleagues, but fashion takes a back seat here. Get used to the brown loafers.
• 4 pairs of socks. No reason to scrimp here. Shove ‘em in your shoes to save space.
• 3 running shirts. Check the weather to make sure you’re packing the right ones, but three will let you rotate them around for the week and do the old rinse-out-in-the-sink trick. Technical fabrics dry faster than cotton.
• 2 pairs of shorts. Admittedly, these are pretty funky by the end of the trip most times, but they can be rinsed out as well.
• GPS Watch. I don’t always run with mine at home, but I do love having GPS tracks in new cities. I’m a geek. What can I say?
• Sunglasses and hats.
• Body Glide. Never forget the body glide. Very little else will act as a proper substitute and outside of actual running shops, it is very hard to find. I’ll save my “attended a conference with severe chaffing” tales for some other time.

Getting Where You’re Going

I don’t care how often you do it or how accustomed to air travel you are, it takes a toll on you. Even short flights in the same time zone can be murder on the body. The seats are cramped, the air is dry, the food is terrible and/or non-existent (Hey thanks for offering, but I’ll decline the $12 sandwich option). And I dare you to stay hydrated. On a flight you have to be able to perfectly balance your fluid intake: Just enough water to keep you from shriveling up, but not so much that you have to get up and use the lavatory. The competing forces of Hydration Needs and Lavatory Hatred battle it out on every flight.

Lavatory Hatred usually wins.

Even if you are lucky enough to be able to drive to your destination, your running experience when you arrive isn’t going to be great. Driving is actually a lot of physical and mental work, and getting the body to take those first steps when you get out of the car? Rough sledding.

But you travel. You get there. Maybe your flight was even one of those increasingly rare experiences where there is an empty seat or two in your row, the air is turbulence free, and the flight attendants are handing out free food. Lucky!

Or, if your flight is anything like the one I am on right now, you are wedged against the window in economy class with a former college lineman in the center seat claiming more than his fair share of the available space. Going to be a loooong day at 33,000 feet.

Knowing Where to Run

It takes a long time to get to know a city well enough to just lace up the shoes and hit the streets, so you have to do some research. I once took off on a nice run from the front entrance of my hotel in Baltimore, only to find myself transported into a post-apocalyptic nightmare of burned out cars and broken glass storefronts in the span of two blocks. Woops. Turns out if I had run the other way it was beautiful shoreline running for as long as I wanted to go. Probably should have asked.

So while you probably can’t get into any real trouble in a US city if you are out running in the daytime, it’s a good idea to have a plan.

In my experience, the hotel concierge is your worst option. Save them for last. Unless they are actual runners, they will send you to a park or somewhere they think people might possibly be able to run. A concierge in Philadelphia once advised me to run through a park near the hotel. “It’s probably at least a mile!” she proudly proclaimed. Great…I’ll just do seven laps.

The best bet is a friend in the area who is a runner. It’s a rare but beautiful thing.

Somewhere in between just winging it and having a personal running guide, there are usually local running clubs who are happy to host out-of-town runners. On a recent trip to Fort Meyers, Florida I looked up the local running group online and got some good route suggestions from them. They even invited me to join them for their usual Sunday morning long run. Pretty much any city that hosts a race of some sort has a running organization, even if it is based in someone’s basement and managed part time as a hobby, they will have running route advice for you.

Short of that, you can hit the web and do some research on your own. There are several good mapping sites (favoriterun.com, mapmyrun.com, etc) that allow users to post GPS generated maps of their runs. GarminConnect allows you to search for routes by region. Handy info there.

Actually Running

If you’re really lucky, you are traveling with someone who is a runner. After a meeting the two of you can lace ‘em up and head out together. Or, more likely, you’ll be heading out into the streets of a new city by yourself.

I find early afternoon to the best time to run when traveling. It negates any time-zone issues and it doesn’t require you to retire early the night before, when all of your colleagues are heading out for dinner and cocktails. And everyone knows that the best office gossip starts after your co-workers start throwing back the Cosmopolitans. You don’t want to miss that. Which does actually bring me to another point. My exhaustive research tells me that people, including you, tend to drink more when they travel, be it for business or pleasure. And my exhaustive research has also taught me that martinis and running aren't best mix. Take it easy on the booze. I know the guy from accounting is buying, but still. At the very least, alternate water with your cocktails. You want to have some hydration plan, right? And chances are very good you are already dehydrated from traveling. Pound that water! Chug chug chug. (Side benefit: It is always a good idea to be the sober one at an office cocktail hour. Just sayin').

You're ready to run. Slip away in the afternoon when you can. Make a plan and scout your route ahead of time, but be ready to alter it if you have to.

One of the interesting things about the sort of sight-seeing running I like to do when I travel is that the miles add up fast, and it is very, very easy to get caught a long way from “home.” In San Francisco once, I was happily jogging along the Embarcadero when I looked at my watch and realized I was 11 miles from my hotel. Woops. No way I was running 22 miles that day. So I had to get a cab back to the hotel, have the cab driver wait out front, run up to my room, rifle around for cash, realize I didn’t have any, grab my ATM card, find a cash machine, and pay his fare. By the time I got back to pay him, he had given up and left. Woops.

So ALWAYS carry at least a credit card with you. But I also carry some ID and a few small bills with me, just in case. My friend Cap’n Ron once got stuck on a long run in Honolulu needing a drink of water, and had to buy a bottle from a local store. He was 8 miles or so from his hotel and was badly dehydrated. Without that water he would have been a mess. More so than he usually is! Lesson? Carry at least 2 bucks. 2 bucks will also get you on a local bus, or buy you a candy bar in even the most expensive city.

I also like to occasional carry a camera or at least my phone so that I can snap some photos if I come across something worth capturing on my run.

Like this, for example:

Or this:

Running Cities

Any list of “best” anything is a can of worms. But let’s give it a try anyway. Here are some of my favorite and least favorite running cities to visit:

Best: San Francisco, San Diego, and Pasadena, California (Pasadena is, for me, running paradise). Austin, Texas (beautiful college town with runners everywhere). Chicago, Illinois (running along the lake is as good as it gets). New York, New York (the Central Park loop is worth the visit). Miami, Florida (do I need to explain this? South Beach). Honolulu, Hawaii (great long run potential, beautiful views). Spokane, Washington (Centennial Trail is great). Missoula, Montana (trails trails trails. Also Trails.) Philadelphia, Pennsylvania (great trail system along the river).

Worst: New Orleans, Louisiana (confusing, dirty, and downright dangerous in places). Detroit, Michigan (unless running from gunfire is your thing). Phoenix, Arizona (hot, flat, and ruled by the automobile). Newark, New Jersey (is in New Jersey). Seattle, Washington. Sorry Seattleites. I know for runners who live here this is a great place. But imagine yourself a tourist in Seattle. Where do you run from your hotel downtown? Mmm Hmmm.

So Real Runners, what do you say? What are your best and worst running destinations? What are your horror stories? Let’s hear from you.

Hit and Run: Adventures with Automobiles

All things being equal, I prefer not to get into any sort of collision with a vehicle, whether I am in one or not. But we can’t always have it our way.Given the number of miles I have run over the last five years, I am sort of surprised I haven’t been hit more often, but even so, my grand total of four seems high. Four times I have been hit by a car while running. There has to be a way to avoid this.

AVOIDANCE STRATEGY #1: TRAIL RUNNING This is a foolproof plan. No Honda Civic is going to run you down out there in the mountains as you switchback your way to the summit. However, unless you live in the black bear’s backyard, you have to drive to the trailhead, thereby opening yourself up to unnecessary car-on-car violence and reducing the opportunity for spontaneous bouts of running from your own front door.

AVOIDANCE STRATEGY #2: SIDEWALKS. This is great theory! If you run on the sidewalk, you are separated from the traffic and therefore are less likely to be clipped by a Jeep Grand Cherokee driven by a 16 year old on her cell phone. Like most great theories, though, this has some serious problems in reality. First, most neighborhoods have no sidewalks at all. Second, even if there are sidewalks, eventually you have to cross a street, and it’s intersections that get you. Third, where there are good sidewalk systems they are heavily used by dogs pulling their owners around the neighborhood, babies in $400 strollers, kids on $400 BMX bikes, and the occasional Ford F-150 that can’t be bothered to park on the street or in a driveway.

AVOIDANCE STRATEGY #3: TRAFFIC FREE ROUTES. Mmmm Hmmm. Right. Let me know when you find one of these. This strategy is flawed in part because those quiet country roads that you are envisioning right now are narrow and have no shoulders. And I have it on good authority that when young men get brand new sports cars they tend to seek these same routes out for their early adventures in high speed cornering. So while a good portion of this run might be traffic free, the one car you do see is being aimed right at your kneecaps.

AVOIDANCE STRATEGY #4: GADGETS. Flashing lights, reflective vests, whistles, signs. These are all great ideas, but if that driver wants to take you out, no blinking LED is going to stop him.

AVOIDANCE STRATEGY #5: RAIL-TRAILS. Many of us in the Northwest are lucky enough to live near a nice rail-trail like the Burke Gilman or the Interurban. But not only do repeated runs on these trails get so boring that I sometimes wish for a car to come along and sideswipe me just to break up the monotony, most of them have frequent intersections with streets and driveways (the stretch of the Burke Gilman Trail just south of Lake Forest Park comes to mind). And it’s the intersections that get you.

AVOIDANCE STRATEGY #6: DRIVE. Cars cover miles faster, are dry and warm inside, and don’t make your muscles and tendons hurt. It takes about an hour to run 6 miles, but you can drive it in mere minutes. Why are you running? Sheesh.

But so long as you insist on running, and as long as there are cars out there, you run the risk of getting hit by what motorcyclists not so lovingly refer to as “cages”.

Three of my four “unplanned car strikes” occurred at intersections or driveways where a car was turning right into the flow of traffic. Since their focus is on the traffic coming from their left, they just don’t think to look for pedestrians coming from the other side. I don’t think I need to tell you that in cities that are more car-friendly than people-friendly (LA, I’m looking at you) this happens with more frequency.

The fourth car contact happened at an intersection near my house. I was crossing the street with the light, in a marked crosswalk, in the middle of the day, in a bright yellow shirt. She saw me. She came to a rolling “stop” at the light. She looked me square in the eyes, and she sped through her “free” right turn right in front of me. The driver’s side mirror clipped me in the side. How I avoided getting run over by her back tires I will never fully understand, but I lucked out I guess.

Unlike cyclists, who are the unfortunate targets of idiots who think the road is for SUVs only, runners tend to get a pretty wide berth from drivers. With the exception of jealous ex-boyfriends or husbands, I don’t think there are many drivers out there looking to take out innocent runners. So we do what we can:

• Run against traffic when there isn’t a sidewalk. Look the drivers right in the eyes and make yourself obvious. I actually choose to run IN the street rather than on the thin shoulder quite often just to make sure I am seen. But be ready to bail out if necessary.
• Avoid major roads during peak travel times.
• Cross streets carefully and use crosswalks where they exist. You’ll get very little sympathy if you are hit while trying to outrun a truck just to cross a street.
• Wear bright clothing. Wear reflective clothing at night.
• Consider another hobby or exercise option. Because as we all know, running isn’t very smart.

THIS WEEK'S RUN REPORT...
...isn't so much a report as a destination. I used to protect this information out of pure selfishness, but given the number of people I saw last time I was there, I think the secret is out. The Port Gamble trail system on the Kitsap Peninsula is just plain fantastic. Mostly overgrown old logging access roads, the system carves its way through acres of second growth forest just behind the old mill town of Port Gamble. Bring your GPS and your trail shoes and just go running. I love to get lost on these trails, and it's possible to link up long runs that don't get repetitive. There is a lot of elevation gain to be conquered, and there are no sweeping panoramic views, but on the right day you will have a lot of solitude and some challenging runs. There are even some really, really nice single-tracks that link up some of the old roads.

If you find yourself over that way, give it a look.

Have a running route or destination you would like to see featured at Real Running? Send me the information and I'll check it out!