What better way to start the new year of Real Running than with some New Year’s resolutions. I’m not really one for resolutions since setting goals is the first step toward failure, but I admit that there is some allure to the idea of a fresh start for the new set of months. And since I am sure both of the readers of Real Running will be making resolutions for themselves this year, I figured we could help out.
Running Resolutions are a little different from your typical New Year’s Resolutions in that they don’t have anything to do with being a better person or making the world a better place or even really doing anything productive. It’s a good thing most runners are already good, kind people, because running is about as selfish an activity as there is.
Running Resolutions, unlike regular running goals, are measured over the course of a year. Theoretically, we will check in with our Running Resolutions next December and see how we did, but anyone who has ever been to the gym in March knows that most resolutions are really only good for a few months, tops. But let’s think in terms of twelve months just to stay on topic.
The simplest type of Running Resolution is a mileage target. Be aggressive here. At the end of the year you can always remember a few long runs that you forgot to enter back in June to make your target. Like that 235 miler you did. Remember that? My static mileage goal every year is an even thousand. A thousand mile year is a nice milestone and it is a challenge for regular schlubs like me with jobs and whatnot. Five hundred miles is totally reasonable for a new runner. If you stay healthy and run a little each week, you can do it. You can log your miles however you want, but I let the satellite and Internet gods do it for me. Set your mileage goal for the year before moving on to the next paragraph. I’ll wait…
You should set other targets for the year as well. Set a goal for the number of races you will do. One race a month is attainable, no? How many marathons or half marathons can you squeeze in this year? For whatever reason, I’ve never run a 5k, so this year is my year! I figure this is an easy resolution to pick off in December 2011 if I need to. Maybe 2011 is the year of the marathon for you. Go for it. Write it down.
And let’s not forget to have some fun. If you’re a pavement pounding runner, resolve to get into the woods and run on the dirt once in a while. Tired of lacing up those shoes? Vow to go barefoot for a few miles every week.
Of course, Running Resolutions, like their normal life counterparts, wouldn’t be resolutions if you couldn’t watch them fall apart in the weeks after the new year begins. So set some unrealistic goals that will let you feel a little bad about yourself as they pass you by. My favorite is the “run every day” goal.
Yeah, right. I’m out of this one by January 3rd.
Running Resolutions only work if you are held accountable. So post your list of goals for 2011 here or at our Facebook page. You are following our Facebook page, right? Just for kicks, I’ll be publicly logging my miles and other stats here in 2011 so you can watch me fall short of my goals and shame me into trying again in 2012.
Greg's Real Running Resolutions for 2011
Run 1,000 miles in 12 months
Run 3 marathons
Attempt one Ultra Marathon
Find an alternative to Powerade Zero, to which I am now addicted, and which cannot be good for me
The driving rain, dark mornings, and stores jammed with holiday kitsch tell me it’s time to start thinking about gifts for friends and family. Real Running has you covered with the first ever Real Running Holiday Gift Guide.
Buying for runners is hard, in part because the big expense in running is shoes, and in part because runners really don’t need any of the stuff that is marketed to them. Heck, we barely even need shoes. Nonetheless, here are some tips that should help you navigate through your shopping experience.
Buying shoes is usually a bad move, since runners are very particular about what they put on their feet. Most of us are fiercely brand-loyal and have worked hard to find “our” shoe. One option is to sneak into the closet and steal product numbers and sizes and just buy another pair of the same shoes your runner already has. Another option is to add a different set of shoes to the quiver. For example, maybe your runner has been running off-road in her regular shoes? How about some trail shoes? Go to the local shop with the details of her regular shoes and get an equivalent fitting trail shoe, from the same brand, of course.
The real trick to gift-giving is to find something your runner doesn’t really need, but would think is really cool. Here are some ideas:
Satellites. Is your runner still logging miles with his old Timex watch from 1992? This is cute and everything, but why not an upgrade to a watch that tracks time, miles, elevation, heart rate, course, laps, effort, and looks cool at the same time? Garmin and Suunto make some excellent options.
Tunes. Sure, they make holsters for that old-school MP3 player your partner lugs around, and he can technically use that iPhone for tunes, but they make MP3 players now that are far better suited to running. Get an iPod from Apple with a personalized message engraved on it at Apple’s online store. Slick.
Threads. Those nasty old race shirts from three years ago have to go. Most runners are too cheap to buy the nice stuff, but we wish we had it, for sure. This time of year, jackets and thermal gear is a nice option. Or maybe some warm up clothes? Sweat pants and sweatshirts for before and after a workout are always a fine choice.
Words and Data. Most Real Runners can read. And most of us would love a subscription to running and health magazines. Or sign your favorite runner up with an account at a site like MapMyRun.com or FavoriteRun.com where she can track workouts, get custom training plans, or create and share running routes.
Vacation. Here’s how to go top-shelf this holiday season. Find a warm-weather race destination, get a hotel room, some plane tickets, and register your favorite runner for the race. Of course the bonus of this is that you get to go, too. Double bonus if you’re also a runner. There are races every weekend in places like Arizona, California, New Mexico, and Florida. Most of the big races have travel packages already put together for you.
Of course, not all gifts have to be big-ticket items. In no particular order, here are some inexpensive gifts all runners need more of:
Fuel. GU, PowerGel, or whatever your runner usually uses make for great little gifts. Don’t buy too much. Those things do expire. Don’t overlook hydration. Those drink mixes and electrolyte supplements are a welcome addition.
Protection. BodyGlide. There’s never too much BodyGlide.
Warmth. Cheap cotton gloves and hats (check your local dollar store) make great winter race day warmers that your runner won’t feel bad about leaving behind.
But clearly, the best thing you can do for the runners in your life is shake your head, smile, and wish them luck as they head out into the rain, wind, snow, and darkness this holiday season to feed their addiction to logging miles on foot. So might I suggest the old standby gift?
Coupon Book of free passes from family events, household chores, and other obligations for running purposes. Make these in mileage denominations so your runner has to decide how to spend them. “Your mother is coming over? Here’s my 12-mile coupon. See you in two hours.”
Happy Holidays from all of us here at Real Running!
I don’t know why I do it, but I continue to read the “comments” section of the local papers’ websites. I KNOW these are full of contrarian trolls for whom logic and reason aren’t requisite parts of discourse, but still I catch myself reading what people have to say about news, events, and issues.
The 2010 edition of the Seattle Marathon had 3,000 or so runners attempt the full 26.2 miles, and another 12,000 running the 13.1. That’s roughly 15,000 people who paid entry fees, trained, and got outside on a chilly November morning. The event was a success by all accounts. So what could online trolls possibly complain about? I’ll paraphrase:
I live in Seattle and they closed some streets so I couldn’t drive my SUV three blocks to get beer and chips so I could watch the Seahawks game on television.
Why do they hold the marathon in November? It’s too cold and makes the city look stupid.
Marathon running is dangerous and should be banned.
What a waste of taxpayer money to have all of those roads closed for a few idiots. How much revenue do local merchants lose because those roads are closed?
Don’t bother to respond to these idiotic rants. Truth and logic don’t apply.
People will hate on anything. Stunning.
From my perspective, the Seattle Marathon seemed a smashing success this year. The weather was perfect for running, the expo was well-managed, the starting line was efficient, and the on-course support was as good as I’ve seen it for this race. Good job, Seattle. Let’s do it even better next year. I want to see some crowds out there.
Cap’n Ron and I laced ‘em up and ran the 26.2 this year. Here, in no particular order, are my observations of the run:
It was good to see Martin - my intrepid editor at Northwest Runner Magazine - during the expo. The December issue was flying out the door! Somehow Martin also managed to appear at the starting line, on I-90, in Seward Park, at every water station, at each street crossing, at the finish line, at Starbucks, in my living room, and on the Oprah show. Ok, he didn't do that. But I believe he could. It's like magic.
Even though I live less than 15 miles from the course, I chose to stay downtown this year at the host hotel. With the marathon in town and the busiest shopping weekend of the year on the calendar, downtown was a festive scene to be sure. Or it was just crowded. Whatever.
Every year I run the Seattle Marathon I forget that the start is uphill and that there is a sizeable hill in mile #2. Somehow I always remember a flat cruise down 5th Avenue to the International District, but I know it isn’t true.
I didn’t see Elvis this year. But I heard Superman was there. And I know at least one guy was running not only barefoot, but also in his bathrobe. Doesn’t seem advisable.
I don’t know how many times I heard someone say, “Man that Kenyan is fast” in reference to the race leader and eventual winner. But I do know that he is from Ethiopia. Not all East African runners are Kenyan.
I’m not Kenyan.
When did swag bags become nothing more than recycle bin promotional materials for other races? Remember that one year at Halloween when the whole neighborhood seemed to be handing out raisins? That’s how race day goodie bags feel to me these days. Ooooooh, I got a glossy brochure for the Des Moines 5k and Turkey Trot in 2011!
Seriously. Can we get at least ONE cool thing in the goodie bag? Vancouver gives out nifty little cotton gloves. That’s something. I got a half ounce bottle of olive oil, for swag’s sake!
While I’m on the subject of the stuff we get for running these races, can we talk shirts? I’m a fan of the technical shirt that comes with the entry fee. I really am. BUT, I think there should be two different shirts. A full marathon and a half marathon. AND, I want finishers shirts! I don’t care if it’s just a Hanes Beefy T with “Finisher” printed on the back. And you should ONLY be able to get a finisher’s shirt by crossing the finish line. I should NOT be able to buy a finisher’s shirt at the expo before the race.
My favorite t-shirt sequence was a group of five runners I passed at mile 8. “I’m doing this for Greg!” “I’m running for Greg!” “26.2 miles in support of Greg!” I thought they were talking about me until I passed them and caught up with a guy wearing a shirt that said “I’m Greg.” Nice.
I spent the better part of a mile wondering how the course might change when the City of Seattle eventually bulldozes Memorial Stadium. I have a suggestion. Start and finish at Qwest or Safeco field and reverse the course. Up 5th Avenue to Seattle Center, up Eastlake, across the University Bridge, back across the Montlake bridge, down Lake Washington Boulevard to Seward Park, back to I-90, across to Mercer Island, back across I-90 to the finish at the stadium of your choice. Feel free to point out the flaws in this plan if you like, but it’s flawless. In fact, let’s do it next year. I’d much rather have the big climbs in the first 13.1 and the downhill at the finish. Please.
This course is deceptively hard. The official description is "moderately hilly." I guess that's true, if you compare it to climbing Rainier.
Thank you Marathon Planning People for the 8:15 start. It was nice to have daylight for the first mile.
I saw less carnage at this race than any other marathon I have done in the past. Though the poor woman suffering explosive diarrhea near Seward Park has my sympathy. Also, that was gross. Also also, there was a Honey Bucket 300 feet from where you stopped. Sorry.
Here are my splits. See if you spot anything notable: 8:23, 7:42, 7:52, 8:23, 8:02, 8:16, 8:54, 8:13, 8:01, 7:45, 7:48, 7:48, 7:48, 7:49, 7:59, 7:58, 8:08, 7:58, 8:15, 8:35, 8:46, 9:22, 9:22, 12:08, 11:40, 10:55, 11:09…You can add those up if you like, but I’ll save you the trouble: 3:50:10. Sigh. I would have loved a sub 3:40, and that was my “goal” going in, but honestly, once I started to feel things tweak and creak and grown a little bit, I immediately backed off. I wanted to finish without injury. Success! That said, my first 20 miles were easily the strongest I have felt at the Seattle 26.2 mile jog-a-thon. Now I can get back to training for a race with fewer hills.
Somewhere on I-90 I ran into Owen, my ultra-marathoning tattoo artist. I caught up with him because he was taking it easy on Sunday. Why? Oh, no reason. Except that he had just run the Seattle Ghost Marathon the day before. What? Back-to-back 26.2 mile races? Both under 4 hours? Ugh. Some people are crazier than I am.
Oh, and Owen passed me at mile 23. Nice.
To the young lady who yelled at me and used a word that would cost a dollar in the swear jar for walking at a water stop. Same to you. I took the last possible water cup and stayed to the side of the street. I walk for 5 seconds at every water stop to make sure I get a good drink. It’s not uncommon. Maybe if you weren’t tailgating me in the first place it wouldn’t have been such a problem for you? Sheesh.
Including entry fees, hotel stays, meals, and other race day incidental costs, I figure a major marathon costs most runners upwards of $300. That’s a lot of coin to torture yourself for 4 hours. Where else would you be willing to spend $300 for a t-shirt and a week’s worth of aching muscles and blistered feet? The only more painful way to spend $300 without getting anything of value in return is taking the kids to a Mariners game. ZING!
In all, another successful race outing. My family still thinks I’m nuts, and The Colleague was at yet another finish line to watch a shell of my usual self limp across the timing mat. I’m scouring the calendar for the next one. Any suggestions for a late winter ‘thon?
Those who know things about stuff predict that La Nina will bring us in the Northwest a worse than normal winter. This apparently means more high winds, more rain, more snow, more power outages, and generally speaking, crappy running weather. Never mind that long term weather prediction on the west coast is about as much science as it is voodoo, if the predictions come true, we at Real Running will be spending our massive paychecks on frequent flights to Southern California.
This past week has been a decent preview of what is predicted to land on the Pacific Coast this winter. Colder than normal temperatures, 30 mph winds, sideways rain, and power outages scattered around Puget Sound. At least Lake Washington doesn't have the 30 foot waves the coast was bashed with all week. Here, from Cliff Mass's wonderful weather blog is an image of the latest storm getting set to attack us:
Does this look to anyone else like a giant fist getting set to smack the Northwest?
But still we run. My latest 6 miler was spent route-finding around the tallest buildings and on the leeward side of hills in our neighborhood just to get some relief from the gusts of wind
Without a Pumpkin, It Would Just Be Streaking
This Halloween, why not take off your clothes, shove your head in a hollowed out pumpkin with eye holes cut in it, and run in the 4th Annual Fremont Naked Pumpkin Run? Why not?
I have lived in this area most of my life, and it gives me such pleasure that we will have communities like Fremont that retain some good old fashioned quirk and humor. Even after the hideously gentrified new construction took over most of Fremont from the Aurora Bridge to Ballard, the community has held onto the Briefcase Relay, the Solstice Parade, and yes, the Naked Pumpkin Run.
There is nothing more wholesome than running naked through the streets of Fremont. Bring the kids.*
Pain Killers Can Kill You
I consulted the official physician of Real Running after seeing an article on the potential harm of using non-steroidal-anti-inflammatory-drugs (NSAIDs) in combination with vigorous dehydrating exercise like running. Apparently, the use of these drugs (ibuprofen is the most common) can reduce the kidneys’ ability to process fluids properly. In extreme cases this can result in renal failure. This is, according to our staff physician (who just happens to be the father of one of the Real Running staff and also a kidney specialist) called “analgesic abuse nephropathy.” I don’t care what that actually means, it sounds bad and I don’t want it.
Taking a handful of Advil before a marathon in anticipation of sore joints and muscles, then, is officially out of style. We don’t want any Real Runners dying from kidney failure. In fact, can we just agree that all Real Runners will die of natural causes in their late 80s, in full possession of their minds, surrounded by fulfilled family and friends? Deal.
I also called my personal physician, Dr. Hilarious, about this one, because kidney issues aside, I am skeptical about the effectiveness of anti-inflammatory drugs in a preventative manner. He says that they can work this way, but are less effective than in treating an already suffered injury. So taking your Advil before the race is not only deadly, but of questionable effect anyway. Just suck down your GU packets and leave it at that.
Speaking of GU…
Until a specific company steps up and sponsors the Real Running staff with cases of energy gels in exchange for frequent mentions on this blog, we will continue to be equal-opportunity product promoters.
On my last long run with Cap’n Ron (20 miles from Ballard to the UW and back through South Lake Union) I tested a few different brands of energy gels. This is a delicate science. You have to balance taste, consistency, and nutritional intake as well as take into account the gel’s effect on your system. When you are working as hard as runners work, your stomach doesn’t really want anything in there, so finding something that it will happily accept and digest is indeed a trick. I have in the past been a fan of the Vanilla Bean GU, mostly because its flavor reminded me of eating spoonfuls of vanilla frosting from the little jar in the fridge when I was a kid.
But I prepped for this latest run too late, and the only energy I could find was something called Accel Gel.
When I hit a little wall an hour into the run, I ate one of my three Accel’s. Taste was good, consistency was good, stomach seemed ok. And in about 5 minutes I actually felt a little kick. The stuff works!
At mile 16, when I wanted to carjack a Prius to drive my butt to my own car in Ballard, I took another. Within a half mile I had a little energy and momentum to kick to the finish. The stuff works!
If you haven’t experienced it yet, getting your body to that point of complete energy depletion, to where it is starting to cannibalize your muscles, your liver, and your fat stores is almost a surreal experience. Your reserves are so low, and the fuel your body is trying to burn is so inefficient, that the infusion of pure carbohydrates and sugar is like the reverse of the anesthesia you get when they put you under for surgery. You can feel it wash over your body. You can feel it take effect.
This is a good and a bad thing. It’s good because we know the 150 calorie bomb in those little squeeze packets works! It’s bad because if you get that low in fuel, you are doing something wrong. Especially in a race, you have to fuel before you need it. Just like you need to hydrate before you’re thirsty, you have to fuel before you crash. That GU or Accel or PowerGel, or whatever is more effective if it isn’t bringing you back from the dead. Imagine a car that is standing still and needs to get up to 60 miles per hour. Now imagine a car already going 45 miles per hour. Which takes more fuel to get up to 60? Hmmmm?
Imperfect analogy, but you get the point.
For those of you training for a marathon, practice your hydration and fueling on your long runs. I have found that a drink every two miles and an every gel every 6 miles is perfect for me. Happily, most marathons try to have support stations every 2 miles or so.
*Editorial Comment: The reason funny, quirky events like this aren’t as common as they should be is that people complain about the effect on kids or wholesome family values. News flash: your kids know what naked bodies look like, and seeing a bunch of them in the streets with pumpkins covering their heads isn’t going to harm them in any way. Nor is it going to turn them into deviants. At most it will make them laugh. Get over yourself.
While preparing to head out for a long run the other day, I noticed with some horror that my son had killed the battery on my trusty, tiny, brand-specific MP3 player. You know the one: it’s the size of a matchbook, comes in several delicious colors, and comes with those ubiquitous white earphones. The horror continued when I found my equally trusty brand-specific GPS watch wasn’t actually plugged into the charger and was stone dead. I had 16 miles ahead of me that afternoon and the thought of those late miles without Pearl Jam just about broke my spirit.
Before I go further with this, let me confess that even though I know it makes me a pawn of the corporate marketing world, I love gadgets. I know I don’t need any of them, but they’re so cool I just have to have them, much to the displeasure of the other adult member of my household who likes to ask the most painful question of them all: “Why do you NEED that?” Need? Who needs any of it? I just like it. So if any advertising reps from the unnamed brands above want to contact me, please fee free.
Seriously.
Let’s not pretend there is suspense here. You know what’s coming. I actually went running without my various electronic tethers. No GPS watch measuring my distance and pace. No music piped directly to my brain. No heart rate monitor. Just me, the environment, and my brain. What is this, 1996?
And here’s the whole truth of that unplugged run: I dreaded it. The first miles sucked. And the rest was fantastic.
As I warmed up and got into a groove I worried constantly about my pace. Was it too fast? Too slow? Inconsistent? I kept looking at my wrist for external feedback. I caught up with a runner on the Burke Gilman just to try to steal a glance at her watch so I could see my pace. I tried counting accurate seconds like we used to in backyard touch football games. One-one-thousand. Two-one-thousand…
At mile two it became very clear that I had a serious problem. I was addicted to my GPS. This is no joke. Somewhere along the way, I started to rely on it so much that I lost touch with the actual feedback my body was giving me. I needed an intervention, and since I had no music to listen to, my brain started to wonder if maybe someone drained my gadget batteries on purpose just to teach me a valuable lesson.
On I went, through miles three and four without Eddie and the gang to power-riff me through the boring stretches of the run. I like my music as much as anyone, but it seems maybe I rely on it a little too much. Get in the car for a drive: pop in a CD. Sit at the computer to work: open up Pandora (you don’t know about Pandora.com yet? Best look soon.) Go for a run: earbuds.
Without my musical cocoon I actually started to notice stuff around me.
The first thing I noticed is how many people have those white things jammed in their ears. Runners, walkers, mothers pushing strollers, maintenance crews with week trimmers, bus riders, small dogs, and, improbably, young couples strolling hand in hand on what anyone would recognize as a date. I can only hope they were listening to the same song at least*.
The second thing I noticed was the sounds that are important for runners. I could hear my footfalls and had immediate feedback when I was getting lazy and slapping my feet on the ground. Normally I have to wait until my ankles start screaming at me to realize I am making this mistake. I could hear my breathing. I could hear the unnerving hum of the overhead power lines, which can’t be safe or healthy. Ditto the teenagers in the brand-specific import coupe listening to Lady Gaga.
And the third thing I noticed was that my brain thinks thoughts. Scary but true. As I hit walls in the late miles I could talk my way through them without Stone Gossard distracting me. I also managed to solve a couple of work problems and compose a few lines of this article, which I of course promptly forgot, but still.
So running unplugged wasn’t so bad after all, but you knew that was going to be the thesis of this little exercise. In fact, I would run unplugged more if I didn’t like having the data from my GPS when I finish a run. Solution? Lately I’ve been running with my GPS in my pocket or upside down on my wrist. Then I use my undistracted brain to guess my splits and heart rate. When I get home I compare my brain’s data with the brand-specific GPS data. I don’t know what this accomplishes, but it’s interesting.
So unplug once in a while. It won’t hurt much.
The Unmistakeable Earbuds
Post your best plugged in or unplugged running story and win a fabulous prize to be named later.
I Didn't Quit. I Stopped Before the End.
Scan the results of any major race and you will see a long list of DNS (did not start) and DNF (did not finish) runners. Run any major race and you will see runners come up with injured muscles and tweaked joints. It happens. I've written before about quitting, and I maintain that a "never quit" attitude really only works in movies about high school football. Runners need to know when to quit.
Cap'n Ron, a good friend and one of two regular readers of Real Running writes on his blog this week about "quitting" the Portland Marathon. He writes of guilt and pressure and decisions. But he didn't quit. He chose not to run. And wisely, I think. So let's get some definitions out of the way.
Signing up for a race months ahead of time - which for a race like Portland you have to just to get a bib number - is an act of faith. If you sign up for an October race in June, you are betting that a lot of things will go right. Mainly, you are betting that you will be healthy come race day. But you are also wagering that your training will be good, your home life will be stable, your bank account will hold up for a trip to the race, and that your boss will be cool with you limping around the office on Monday morning with a finisher's medal around your neck. That's a big parlay to put down. When it all comes in, you're golden. I don't know about you, but every time I try a big parlay in Vegas, the Seahawks fail to cover the spread and I walk away with nothing.
In Real Running Nation there is no shame in not going to a race you were "supposed" to run. Here are some perfectly good reasons to stay home:
Injured. This should be obvious. If you're hurt, you're hurt. And running a race isn't going to make it better. NFL players get painkilling injections so they can play in the big game. Don't do that. Get healthy for the next race.
Undertrained. Being undertrained leads to injury. If your longest run is 10 miles and that was three weeks ago, 26.2 is going to break you. Literally.
In jail. Not only is it not advisable to try to escape from jail to run a race, training in that little cell is really hard.
Broke. Doing marathon weekend on the cheap is no fun. Crashing on your buddy's ratty old couch with his wet dog isn't the way to spend the night before the race.
Don't want to run. So don't. It's running. Who cares.
Any other reason. As my father is fond of saying, you can rationalize anything. You don't owe anyone an explanation as to why you didn't run. Especially your non running friends.
Quitting is a different issue entirely. Quitting is when you start a race and for some reason don't cross the finish line. In this case, only two things count as valid reasons to quit:
Injured. See above. Though in a race there is a little extra motivation to push through a little pain and finish the race. I've stumbled across a couple of finishing mats on pulled muscles and twisted bones. As long as you are pretty sure you're not going to do permanent damage, I say keep running. Slow down, hobble, walk, crawl. But finish. Note that this applies only to long races. No one cares if you quit a 5k.
Crashed. There does come a point - be it from under training (see above), poor fueling, or whatever that the body simply won't do any more. Be damn sure you are completely spent, though, because the moment you pull out of that race, the regret starts. Slam down a few GU packs and some water and do another mile. You just might have more in the tank than you realize.
Bonus reason to quit: Race cancellation. But as we know from the debacle in Chicago a few years ago, even this doesn't stop most marathoners.
But one thing is true of both skipping a race and quitting one: get back on the horse. Cap'n Ron skipped Portland but immediately signed up for Seattle. Strong move. Always have a "next race" on the calendar. It makes it harder to take four weeks off to "recover," which usually means eating too much pizza and drinking too much Red Hook.
I will admit I have thought about this as I ran through some local parks after sunset. But let's be honest, what sort of target am I?
Anyway, I read the brief article and then made the mistake of reading the "Sound Off" comments below it. Never do this. It will just make you cry at the idiotic level of discourse out there. It only took a few posts before the inevitable "It wouldn't have happened if she was carrying a gun" comment came up.
I don't care what your personal politic is with regards to handguns, bear arms*, the 2nd Amendment, or the NRA, but can we at least agree that the idea of runners strapping concealed weapons to themselves before heading out for a five mile jog is a little ludicrous? The anonymous poster gave specific model numbers and even suggested a holster inside a fanny pack. Come on. I have enough trouble getting a water bottle out of my hydration belt when I'm running. You expect someone to safely and effectively draw a handgun from a zipped pack in the face of an attacker?
Happily, running is incredibly safe. Seattle and Portland are incredibly safe cities to run in. The suburbs even more so. Random crime happens, obviously, but the odds are astronomically low that anyone out there in their training for an upcoming race is a target for such crime. But to all of you muggers out there, if you want my ratty old iPod or my sunglasses, they're yours. Runners are bad targets, if for no other reason than whatever money is shoved in our shorts stinks like Body Glide, synthetic fabric, and sweat.
Let's those of us here at Real Running Nation vow not to pack heat on our runs. Exceptions include running solo in bear country and...well that's it.
Bring Out the LEDs
My work day got a little busy the other day and my planned early afternoon run got pushed back into the evening. No problem. I pulled on my wonderful BROOKS shoes (surely someone from Brooks reads this occasionally?) and took off out the front door. Four miles later I was having trouble seeing the trail. Five miles out and it was getting dark. Woops. Fall is definitely here. I carefully made my way home from streetlight to streetlight and rifled through the closet to find my "darkness" gear. Headlamp, flashing red LED lights, reflective jacket, reflective arm band.
Be safe out there. The low sun in the evenings makes it hard for motorists to see, and the darkness is coming earlier by the day. Light yourself up like a Christmas tree.
*Get it? Bear Arms. The right to...never mind. Just watch this:
Cap’n Ron claims the long run is the key to marathon training. I can’t say I fully disagree, and for the sake of this column, let’s just say that I actually agree. Fine. The long run is king. But what is a long run?
For my first few marathons I was (loosely) following training programs that had weekend long runs of 14, 16, 18, 14, and 20 miles, in that order. Scattered in between those weekly knee breakers were some slow days, some short runs, some speed work, and some “tempo” runs, whatever those are.
Then for one marathon I tried a new theory that I read about (or made up on my own, I can never tell which is true). In this plan mileage didn’t matter, it was all about time. I could run as slowly as I wanted as long as I ran consistently for two hours, two and a half hours, three hours, etc. The longest of these runs was 4 hours, hopefully exceeding the amount of time I would spend on the marathon course.
In this plan that I am now more and more convinced I made up, the idea was that it was all about training your body to put forth a consistent effort for the duration of the race. Train it to be active for four hours. That marathon never happened for me after breaking my leg (yep) on a long run. Nice.
So now I am in the meat of my training for the upcoming Seattle 26.2, and instead of focusing on one long run a week, I am following a training plan I found in a box of cereal. This plan deemphasizes the “long” run and has a lot more miles scattered throughout the week. My “easy” days are 8-10 miles, but I am supposed to run them slowly. There is some speed work, which I hate and try to get out of in any way possible, and there are some “longer” easy runs. The longest of these is 18 miles.
So let me get to the weirdest part of all of these training plans that are out there: not one of them has runners train at the full marathon distance. Seems weird, right? The theory is that somehow the excitement and importance of race day makes up for the difference in distance trained versus distance raced. I’m not buying it, mostly because every time I get up to my training mileage in a race, the wheels come off.
And get this: you are supposed to run your long runs at a pace 30-45 seconds slower than your projected race pace! So not only do we not train to the distance, we don’t train to the pace either? I’m getting confused.
But these gurus of marathon training claim it works, so twice or three times a year I dutifully make a calendar with some big ass numbers on it and I start running. And most of the time the race goes ok, but usually something bad happens to a foot, a muscle, a joint, or my brain.
So far, with a little over six weeks of training left, I am sticking to my plan better than I ever have before. I’m running my long runs slowly and I’m not pushing over twenty miles. So far so good, including today’s 18 miler at just under 9:00/mile. Now, in theory, that means 26.2 at 8:15/mile on race day, right?
My favorite running shoes are past their prime. They're the Brett Favre of my running shoes. They still work, they still can perform, and they want to be out there, but the potential downside is just too low. Favre throws too many interceptions and crushes the dreams of his team's fans. My shoes will just hurt my feet. And as an oft-injured runner, I want to do everything I can do to stay off the injured reserve list.
And actually, the comparison isn't fair, because I loved my shoes. I never even liked Favre except for in "There's Something About Mary." But that's another issue entirely.
I have other shoes in my closet, of course. All of us do. But this particular pair just fit me right. I liked the way they looked and felt, and they had worn in perfectly to match my stride. Last night I ran in a practically new pair of shoes. Same brand. Same color. Slightly different shoe. I hated them. They have been on the shelf waiting for a chance to be on the team, and I gave them a shot. But it just wasn't the same, like when my parents tried to replace my dead hamster with a new hamster from the pet store like I wouldn't notice. Still a hamster, but not my beloved pet. You get the picture.*
So now I am faced with a serious challenge. I need to start restocking the shoe closet, and the variables are overwhelming me.
First there is cost. Until Brooks - THE BEST SHOE MAKER ON THE PLANET AND A WONDERFUL COMPANY FROM THE PACIFIC NORTHWEST - decides to sponsor the Real Running team, I have to pay retail for my shoes. Retail! I know, you feel my pain. And I don't know if you have looked lately, but running shoes aren't free anymore. This is a serious investment. I walked right past the coffee shop today and kept my two bucks. If I do that for 50 more days, I got me some new shoes!
Second is the issue of "versions." Here at Real Running we moonlight as college teachers and have to deal with the textbook industry. Every two weeks they have a "new edition" of a text that changes 6 words in Chapter 7 that the students have to pay $130 for. I feel bad for the students and all, but the real issue is that we are comfortable with the OLD edition. It's dog-eared and annotated, and we know where everything is. The new edition isn't quite the same. So when a new shoe hits the market, it is inevitably a slightly different, ostensibly better, version of the old shoe. I would run down to the store right now and buy an exact replacement of my trusty BROOKS shoes if they existed. But in the time it has taken me to put 400 miles on the two pair I already owned, two new versions have come out. I'm two editions behind! Ack.
Finally there is the style issue. As I get older shoes seem to get fancier. Ok, ok, it's possible that I am getting more boring. But I think it's the shoes getting too fancy. I look at the wall of shoes and I just can't see any of them living at the end of my legs for 400 miles. Add to that the fact that they are bright and flashy and clean, and I have a problem. I don't want people's eyes drawn to me when I run. I want to run invisibly. Those new shoes are going to call too much attention to me. I wish BROOKS and their less cool competitors would make pre-dirtied but unused shoes. They'd have all the spring and rebound of brand new shoes, would smell like new shoes, and would fit like new shoes, but they'd look used. I'm a genius.
So Real Runners, what is a shopper to do? When I find my next perfect shoe should I just buy 5 pair of them? Should I replace my shoes more often to get over my other issues? Should I do what Cap'n Ron has done and go shoeless?
Help me out here.
And to the good folks at Brooks Running, I can send you my shipping address if you need it.
*I have never actually owned a hamster. And my parents would never have tried to pull the old "pet switch" on me. They would have said, "Your rat died." Anyway, this is just here as a nice little metaphor. I've been told you're supposed to use metaphors.
It’s just about fall race season, and most of us will be lacing up the special “racing” shoes for a 10k, 13.1, or 26.2 sometime soon. The calendar from September through December is jam packed with races big and small, including the Portland and Seattle Marathons, so if you are going to venture into the world of organized running, why not start now?
But before you pin that number on and line up, we here at Real Running thought we would share some tips on having a successful race day.
Pre-Race
Pre Race Rule #1: Chill Out. Most people take race day far too seriously. A 10k race is just a 6.21 mile run. Just because you are wearing a number and there is a clock over the finish doesn’t change this. If you don’t “carb load” before a regular 5-6 mile run, why would you start doing so just because tomorrow’s run is The Race to Save the Salmon? If it’s your first race and you are nervous, doing things differently is only going to heighten that anxiety. Act like you’ve been there before, as they say. Even for a full marathon, you shouldn’t be doing anything differently than you did for your long training runs.
Pre Race Rule #2: No Shopping. You don’t need special “race” clothing or shoes. And you definitely don’t want to show up for a race in untested shoes. Trust me. Those people you see at the start in shiny new shoes are going to be paying for their choice after the race.
Pre Race Rule #3: Pre-Register. The only thing you should do before the race is pre-register and, if your race lets you, pick up your race materials before race day. Trust me. Running around and standing in lines in the minutes before a race starts is a sure-fire way to stress yourself out. Which brings us to the big day!
Race Day
Race Day Rule #1: Don’t Wear the Shirt. That race shirt that you picked up early with your number and coupons for half off obscure energy drinks should be left at home. It isn’t for the race. It’s for after the race. The first time you wear that cool shirt should be the following week when someone will say, “You ran that race? Cool.” People at the race know you are running the race.
Race Day Rule #2: Don’t Wear Last Year’s Shirt, Either. In fact, all souvenir shirts should be banned. Wear something plain and colorful that will stand out in pictures.
Race Day Rule #3: Line Up in the Right Spot. No one should have to pass you in the first mile of a race. Especially in a chip-timed race, you are better off queuing up near the back of the pack so you can hit the line at your pace and not have to waste energy dodging runners and walkers. Go to the starting chute and stand where you think you should. Now back up 100 feet. There you go.
Race Day Rule #4: Smile. You’re doing this for fun. Well, maybe not fun exactly, but you are out there voluntarily. And someone is going to get a picture of you at some point in the race, so you might as well have a smile on.
Race Day Rule #5: Be Polite. Every person on the sidelines of that course is there so you can race. Every cop, course marshal, timer, aid station volunteer, sign holder, cowbell ringer, and first aid provider deserves a “thank you.” If you are spent and can’t breathe, at least a thankful wave. Seriously.
Race Day Rule #6: Be Considerate of Others. I know you learned this in Kindergarten, but let’s review this Golden Rule as it applies to other runners. Don’t slow down without making sure there is no one right behind you. Don’t merge suddenly to the side of the course. Don’t run on someone’s heels. Don’t spit without considering where it’s going to go. Don’t throw a half empty water cup at someone’s feet (especially a water station volunteer’s!) Don’t run in a cluster with five of your closest friends.
Race Day Rule #7: Have Fun. See also Race Day Rule #4 and Pre-Race Rule #1.
Race Day Rule #8: Support Other Runners. If you see someone struggling, give them a pep talk. If you get passed by someone near the finish, cheer them on or race them to the line. If someone is seriously hurt, stop and help. And when you finish, don’t bail immediately. Cheer on some finishers!
Race Day Rule #9: Celebrate! This is why beer was invented and why every race should end within walking distance of a brewpub.
Race Day Rule #10. Do it Again. As soon as you get home from your race, fire up your web browser and sign up for your next race. Just finished a 10k? Give the half marathon distance a shot.
Happy racing.
This article first appeared in the October edition of Northwest Runner Magazine.
Next up for me is the Seattle Marathon. Where are you running next?
As we ease into fall here at Real Running, we thought it was as good a time as any to make some structural and administrative changes. Also our editor asked us to do it. Here is what to expect in the coming months.
Weekly blog updates. Look for new material each Tuesday morning, including run reports, runner profiles, and of course the sage advice Real Running is known for.
More photos. Our staff of photographers has been tasked with taking more pictures while on the run and at local events.
Guest bloggers. Want to be read by two people? You can write a guest blog for Real Running. Send your entries to gregsrealrunning@gmail.com. Keep them under 1000 words and keep it in the spirit of Real Running.
Facebook presence. You might have already seen our nifty page on Facebook, but if not, click here and check it out. We need more friends. Or maybe it's called a "like." Whatever. It's nice to have friends. It's nice to be liked.
Finally, the Real Running blog will feature each month's magazine column on the day the magazine hits the newsstands.
Now if you'll excuse us, we need to get out there and dodge the raindrops on today's run. Patiently waiting for the sun...
Both of my readers are aware that I am not great at staying healthy when I train. In fact, I’m really quite creative and excellent at getting hurt. There’s no secret to it really. For example, if I'm slated for a 10 miler, I run 12. If I'm supposed to run at 30 seconds over race pace, I run at race pace. Which, of course, is why I get hurt all the time. Doy. It’s simple.
Recently I was out in the blazing heat – which we haven’t had much of this summer in the Northwest – and noticed all sorts of runners out there. And not one of them seemed to be liming or dragging a foot or wearing all sorts of mechanical devices to patch their muscles and bones together. What gives? Why am I the only one out here in an ankle brace, knee brace, compression shorts, corrective shoes, a hernia belt and crutches? Don’t you people know that running is bad for your body?
I’m here to help. Getting injured really isn’t that hard if you stick to my plan.
Set unreachable goals. This one is obvious. Why run at a reasonable pace and attack reasonable distances when you can get straight off the couch and enter a marathon? And don’t pick one of those flat, easy races that are held in the late spring. Pick a hilly race that takes place in late fall!
Do more. Faster. Those training plans literally take weeks to complete. Why do that when you can get 60 miles in this week? If one long run a week is good, three are better! And why would you want to run those long miles so slowly? Get them over with. The faster the better!
Don’t listen to your body. What does your body know? That pain in your right knee will go away on its own with a few more miles of running. It’s probably just tight anyway. Run a little faster and it will loosen up.
Ignore your doctor. You have to learn to translate for your doctor. “Stay off of it” means only run every OTHER day. Stay off of it when you aren’t running. “No running” means no races. Just training runs for you. “Wear this protective device” means purchase said protective device and wear it the first time you run after this appointment. Then you can leave it in the top drawer with that knee brace I prescribed last year. “See a specialist” means keep this business card in your wallet where you will see it every time you take out your credit card to pay for a race entry.
Don’t stretch. You’ve never seen a cheetah stretch have you? And those things are super fast.
Play favorites. Those old Brooks shoes have carried you 400 miles already, why quit now? They’re just getting comfortable! And that blood stain on the right one from when you stumbled and fell in mile 24 of last year’s Seattle Marathon is still there. You can’t throw away history.
Don’t rest. Rest is for the weak.
Eat and drink whatever you want. You’re running dozens of miles a week! You’ve earned all that fat and alcohol. It’s people who don’t run who need to watch their diet. Not you. Order the French fries.
Keep it to yourself. If you tell your friends about that nagging pain in your left foot, they will just tell you to take it easy and see your doctor. And we all know about what happens when you go see a doctor. (See #4)
Forget your age. Running is the great equalizer. So what if you’re hovering around 40 years old, you can beat that 21 year old kid. Catch him. Do whatever it takes. Never admit that you are aging. Your body will hear this negative talk and want you to slow down. In fact, while you’re running like a 21 year old, why not go ahead and party like one too? (See #8)
Getting hurt really isn’t that challenging if you put your mind to it. With any luck, you’ll be limping to the starting line of the Seattle Marathon with me this November, hoping against hope that your surgically repaired body can make it through 26.2 miles of abuse without breaking down.
As I write this we here in the Northwest have just had a rare stretch of hot summer weather, with temperatures up in the 90s and a UV index that challenged even the heartiest sunscreens. And after what seems like a full year of gray, damp, cool weather, no one was particular prepared to battle the heat. It's probably too late for this column, since this morning's forecast called for highs in the 60s and a chance of rain, but the sun will return. I promise. Usually just when the kids are back in school. Wait for it...
I'll just speak for myself here. I wasn't ready for the heat. I have gone through more sports drink* in the last few weeks than I ever drank in the past. Whether the stuff works or not, I have never craved it like I do of late. I cringe at what that Windex (err, I mean "window cleaner") blue-colored sports drink does to my insides.
My mostly bald dome is suffering too, and I realize one benefit all you hair guys have over me: the sweat just doesn't run right off your head into your eyes. But that's clearly the ONLY benefit to having a full head of hair.
Running in the heat is a challenge, and for as much as I like to be flip and make fun of things, heat stroke is a serious, serious issue. When you are running in the heat, even if it doesn't feel terribly hot, hydrate! Carry water even on short runs, and drink consistently. On a day to day basis, you should really only drink when you feel thirsty, but when you are pushing yourself and when the conditions are hot, you need to be more proactive about hydration than usual.
What else can you do to fight off the stresses of running in the heat? Here's a few ideas:
Be shady. Pick a route that has a lot of trees or at least some spots where you can duck into some shade and cool down. Sections of the Burke Gilman and Centennial Trails are excellent for this.
Wear a hat. A ballcap (especially a mesh one meant for runners) will shade your face and keep you a bit cooler.
Wear white. One of my favorite hot weather running shirts is actually a lightweight long sleeve technical shirt. White (well, ok, off-white now). It doesn't absorb heat and the long sleeves keep more of my pale northern European skin covered.
Sprinklers! Time your runs for when the city turns on the sprinklers, or run in neighborhoods that - environment be damned - keep their lawns nicely manicured. You know the ones: they're where you don't live and are usually on top of the hill.
Wait it out. Once the sun gets low in the evening, the running conditions improve drastically. Grab a light and head out after dinner.
Take the day off. It's really swimming weather anyway. Pretend you're training for a tri.
Any brutal heat stroke stories? Tips for beating the heat? Let's hear 'em.
*Our lawyers have advised us to not use brand specific names when referring to potentially generic items. So where I normally would have typed "Gatorade" here, I had to default to the less poetic and slightly more clinical "sports drink." I will also refrain from "Body Glide" and will instead say "lubricant for the unmentionable area." Kleenex is Kleenex. Let's be honest.**
**The truth is we don't have lawyers here at Real Running and this is just a sort of gag that seemed funny when I started it but now that I am considering publishing this post seems significantly less so.
It was 3:30 a.m. and I was running alone on the back roads of Whidbey Island, following a blinking red light clipped to the backside of a runner who was some undetermined distance ahead of me. A van came up behind me and slowed briefly.
“Need anything?”
Do I need anything? Yes. I need to crank out my last 6 miles of the race so I can crawl into the back of that van and go back to sleep. I need a beer. I need someone else to be out here…
“Nope. I’m good. Maybe some water in a few miles.”
And so my support van slowly drove away into the darkness. I tried to look at my watch in the bouncing light of my headlamp with little luck. Oh well. It made no difference now. In a 187 mile relay race with 11 other runners, my pace on the last few miles of my commitment wasn’t going to have much effect. I just had to finish. I set off to catch the runner ahead of me and wondered where I would see my team again with the water they promised me. I decided to pass the time by composing this article in my head.
Some of Our Van Graffiti in Artful Shadow
It started as a whim, as most adventures do. In scanning the calendar of events in the Northwest for 2010, I paused on the Ragnar Relay Northwest Passage. I’d heard of the Ragnar Relays, of course, but never considered running one.
I dashed off a quick email to some of my running friends. Should we try this?
Not long after I had a beer with an old college friend of mine who once passed me in a half marathon while pushing his two boys in a jogging stroller. A friend of a friend joined us. And so it happened that over a couple of adult beverages, we hatched the plan and committed to forming a relay team. The conversation went something like this:
“I know some runners.”
“Me too.”
Typical Ragnar Fare: A Vuvuzuala playing gorilla volunteer.
“We can easily get nine more people. Let’s do it.”
The crew of SuperVan after the race.
Since it started in Utah in 2003, the Ragnar Relay series has grown to include events in New York, California, Arizona, and Florida, among other places. The premise is simple: A team of 12 runners separated into two vans. Each van is responsible for 6 consecutive legs of the race before handing off to the other half of the team. Repeat three times and when all is said and done most teams will have spent more than a day running over 180 miles with little sleep, questionable dietary choices, and some serious van funk. We have four kids who regularly road trip with us in our van, and I’ve never smelled anything like what our Ragnar team did to that poor thing.
The author wearing the mandatory pink driver's wig
I like to imagine that most Ragnar teams are made up of friends and acquaintances. Cobbled together from running clubs. Over the next months, ours would ebb and flow, lose a founding member to injury, and settle with me leading a team I barely knew. Heck, I didn’t even meet most of the members of our team until the day of the race. And something tells me this is pretty typical.
Robin and Katrina at the 2nd Exchange
What I don’t think is typical is for such a patchwork team to be so good! The teammates I brought along were, let’s say, somewhere in their forties or fifties. All strong runners and all veterans of all sorts of crazy sporting adventures. I knew they were game for the endurance. It turns out the others who somehow got hooked up with us (friends of friends of friends? Where’s Kevin Bacon in all of this?) were in their twenties and fast. I mean fast. Luckily, they were also all reliable and fun to be around. When putting together a Ragnar team of your own, which you should do, make personality the number one variable when selecting runners. The second variable should be: “has access to a van.” The third: “knows someone who lives along the course.” Running ability should be way down the list. You aren’t going to win.
Being surprised by the team’s overall pace was delightful at first, until I realized it meant that our van would get little rest. We had barely rolled out of the van for some sleep between our legs when a text message came in and woke me up.
“Scott’s on the last leg. You have about 30 minutes before he’s there.”
It took me 29 minutes to get up, get running clothes on, find my reflective vest and headlamp, and stumble to the exchange chute. It took me those same 29 minutes to calculate that our second van was averaging around 7 minutes per mile. Our team averaged a little over 8 minutes per mile for the whole race. I’ll let you figure out how our van was contributing to that average.
And at the 30 minute mark since receiving the text message, by friend Scott (the only person I knew in the second van) ran into the exchange and pulled my shorts down around my ankles. I was seriously too tired to care, and stumbled out of the chute and onto my last run of the race.
I have a fair collection of “Finisher” shirts in my drawers at home, but I seldom wear them. This one I will wear. My friend Robin reports that in the days after the relay, while doing a short run, he overheard someone talking about his shirt and saying something to the effect of :“He must be crazy to do that race!”
You don’t have to be crazy. But at 3:30 a.m. on the dark rural roads of Whidbey Island, with your support van nowhere to be found and 5 miles left to go before you can take the running shoes off for the last time, being a little crazy helps. Truly crazy is enduring all of it for 25 hours, looking at your teammates and committing to reloading and doing it again next year.
They have a Ragnar Relay in Vegas, you know. Anyone?
Once a year Real Running relocates its offices to Kenya for some service work and a little vacation that includes running on the famed red dirt roads that have brought the world so many of the great distance runners. On any list of running destinations, Kenya must be near the top, and there is no doubt that staining a pair of shoes with red dirt is a magical experience.
Arriving in Nairobi it is easy to wonder how anyone runs here at all. The streets are impossibly crowded, diesel exhaust chokes out the sun, and there doesn’t seem to be a sidewalk or path to be found anywhere. And indeed, if you see someone running in Nairobi, they are likely being chased.
So a running tourist in Kenya is best served by getting out of town as soon as possible after visiting the few requisite museums and attractions Nairobi offers.
Boys in Cura Showing Off Their Football Skills
Kenyan distance runners come from the villages and towns in the interior and west of Kenya, where the traffic is a mix of livestock and bicycles and the air is gloriously clean. Those of us here at Real Running work with a school and orphanage in a village called Cura (shooruh) near Wangige. It is only a 30 minute drive out of Nairobi but it feels like a completely different country. It is out here that you can imagine runners training and logging serious miles. The dirt roads wind through maize plantations and banana farms. Goats keep the grass and weeds at bay, and every corner has a small kiosk where you can buy a bottle of water or a cold Coke. Everyone waves, and the local boys invariably fall into line to run with you, barefoot and smiling.
Running in Kenya is a beautiful, surreal experience, and make no mistake: it’s hard. Most of the interior of the country is above 4500 feet, and the roads are rough, twisty, and steep. In places even the main roads feel more like mountain trails, and if you happen to be here after a rain, the red dirt turns to a mud that surely has some industrial application as a lubricant and sealant.
For a very different experience, head out to the coast. Malindi is a totally runable city on the Indian Ocean, with wide streets and a beach that seems to go on forever. There is nothing at all disappointing about running barefoot at the water’s edge with the local beach boys hollering and running with you.
Of course, it’s not all good news and happiness here. Most schools in the country have little, if any, formal physical education programs. Many children and malnourished and sleep-deprived. The streets of Nairobi are dangerous. And let’s not forget the wild animals.
On a recent visit to the Masai Mara for a game drive, I marveled at the single track trails and beautiful landscape, and I asked the camp director – a Brit who was himself a runner – about joining him for a morning run. He casually reminded me that to a lion, a running human looks like great sport and can quickly become breakfast, and informed me that their insurance policy expressly forbid any such activity. Watching a lion take down a zebra the next day sealed it for me. No running on safari.
As a parting gift, and as I prepare to put my running shoes away, I thought I’d leave you with a few things I have learned here over the last couple of visits:
The treadmills in the hotels here are set to kilometers. Duh. But it took me about 45 minutes to figure this out. For a while there I thought I was a running superstar as the “miles” clicked by.
You need not know any Swahili to get by in Kenya, as seemingly everyone speaks at least a little English. However, if you are white you should at least get used to hearing kids yell “Mzungu! Mzungu!” as you run through towns. Don’t worry, they’re just calling you a white person. No offense. Also, a quick “Jambo!” with a wave of the hand is a friendly hello. That’s about all you need to know about Swahili.
Don’t bring shoes you intend to keep. They will be ruined before you leave.
When running on the streets, note that traffic runs the opposite direction as at home. I know you know this, but it is easy to forget at 6:00 a.m. on the opposite side of the planet.
Observe the rules of right of way: trucks have right of way over everything. Cows have right of way over cars and humans. Goats have right of way over people. Chickens have no right of way.
Our purpose for traveling here is not pure recreation, I should note. We are seriously committed to our work with the children at Cura and other issues related to this glorious country. Please visit the links below for more information about Cura, our trips to Kenya, how you can get involved, and several Africa-related running charities that could use your support.
This week, while waiting for my leg to feel good enough to start running on it again, I saddled up my road bike and went for a 25-mile cruise around town. I don’t ride as much as I used to, and I had forgotten how dangerous it feels out there on two skinny wheels.
I am not immune to complaining about cyclists, especially the pelotons that bomb down the Burke Gilman Trail at 25 miles per hour, but I am shocked at the venom motorists hurl at cyclists. Granted, I am biased, but shouldn’t we all be glad some people choose to ride instead of drive? One less car, and all that?
For a region with as many cyclists as it has, the Northwest sure has a lot of haters. If you ever make the mistake of reading any of the online comments after an article in the local papers about cyclists, you will get a little of the flavor. Here are some “gems” about cyclists from an article regarding a lawsuit against the City of Seattle's dangerous streetcar tracks:
“They just ride everywhere, take over even 2 lanes road way when they feel like it, and blame eveyone (sic) else for any problem they got. Bicyclists on the road are like pests, scurrying everywhere.”
“We pay millions of dollars in tax revenue for bicycle trails and these dumb asses drive on street car tracks? If you don't know how to ride a bike, then stay off the main roads and use the bike trails. That is what they were designed and built for. Roads were designed for cars, stupid!”
“Get down off your schwinn and realize that building a transportation system around the wants of cyclists, or even with taking them into account is just plain irresponsible. Cyclists want to share the road, well here ya go, share it with me. Tracks, potholes and everything!”
“Bicycle riders have no more right to ride their bikes on public roads than they have to ride their horses on the roads just because they share by other means in the cost of those roads. The whole argument that it is reasonable to ride a bicycle on something built and intended for mechanical powered vehicles is stupid.”
“It isn't progress riding bikes. It isn't even saving the planet, because if nothing else when you get right down to it, it is unsustainable having to produce the steel, plastics, and rubber to make the bikes in the first place; so the bicyclists can drop the "we're saving the planet" histrionics also. If you want to save the planet so much, get off the grid, go live in a stone hut, and cut some wheel wedges from logs, carve an axle, lash some slats to that, and get a horse, donkey, or goat to pull your cart.”
This is merely a sampling. The rest of the comments range from downright ignorant to threatening (one poster admits to running cyclists into curbs whenever he gets a chance, just to “teach them a lesson.”)
On my most recent ride I encountered a small section of road in Mill Creek where the bike lane abruptly ended for 50 yards and then picked back up again. So I had to “white line” it for a brief period. The driver that came up behind me apparently did not appreciate having to slow down on the way to the McDonalds drive-thru, and leaned on the horn. Her passenger rolled down the window and started assaulting me with some pretty intense hatred. There were several comments about my mother and something about my apparent sexuality (based on my riding shorts, I have no doubt). This driver had to slow from 35 to 20 for a mere blip in her day, and truth be told, slowing down to assault me cost her more time than slowing down to pass me did. I was following the rules of the road. But apparently she just wants bikes off her pavement.
And here’s where I get frustrated. The same guy in the F-150 who tried to run me into the ditch a few years back and who yelled “Get off the road!” complains that “his” taxes are wasted on building bike lanes and trails. He sees that narrow strip of a bike lane on the shoulder and thinks it should be another passing lane so he can get home faster. So he wants cyclists off his road but he doesn’t want to take part in finding a way for that to happen. If cyclists get to use "his" streets, he should be able to use their bike lanes.
If you believe the sentiments of those who post on the Seattle Times website, cyclists are greedy, tax-dodging, criminal, hypocritical, hippie, do-gooders who won’t stop until they take over the world!
As runners, we don’t often get this reaction. Occasionally when I get on a route that lacks a sidewalk and a decent shoulder I will get a middle finger or a horn from a passing car, and for some reason teenage boys love to drive slowly next to runners and yell obscenities out the windows of their parents’ Honda Accords, but runners, as a group, are more or less immune to the hatred that cyclists have aimed at them.
I think it is time to join together with our fellow human-powered transportationists. I know that runners tend to think cyclists are silly, and cyclists tend to see runners as obstacles to dodge, but I think we can find some common ground when it comes to motorists. We’re in this together.
So I want to start a wave campaign.
I also ride motorcycles, and one of the great things about that sub-culture is that there is a sense, at the end of the day, that we are all on those two-wheeled vehicles together. Every time one rider sees another, they wave. A simple flip of the hand. My partner even gets the wave on her cute little Vespa as she zips around town. The wave says, regardless of everything else, we’re a team and we’re looking out for each other. Watch for it when you’re out driving. You’ll see it.
It’s a small thing. But it’s a start. Here’s what I propose:
Every runner and cyclist, when seeing another on the street, should give a little wave. A head nod, a “what’s up” sort of gesture. Smile. We’re on those trails, sidewalks and streets together, and it’s us against the cars. I don't know why runners are so averse to the friendly wave of solidarity, but you never see it. I try, but I usually am left hanging. I'm not asking for a high-five or a bro hug here...
Who’s with me? Who can commit to a simple smile and a wave? On the Burke-Gilman, on the Inter-Urban, on the side streets of Redmond?
And runners, if you haven’t yet, go to the Cascade Bicycle Club website and get yourself a “Give Three Feet” bumper sticker. http://www.cbcef.org/give3feet/index.html
The Cascade Bicycle Club is a great local organization to support, even if you never clip into a pedal.
And if you’re the social network type, stick up for cyclists! Post to the discussion forums and help educate motorists. We need more people out of cars, and the fear campaign doesn’t help encourage that. I’m not being completely selfless here, by the way. I do ride on occasion and would like to do so more often. And frankly, anything that is good for cyclists is good for runners. Wider sidewalks, better shoulders, bike paths, trails…we’re in it together.
Real Runners: Share your cycling stories with us! What's your take on this war between motorists and cyclists? Let's hear from you. The best response gets the remnants of my last stick of Body Glide and an expired GU packet (Vanilla Bean from the early 1990s. I just found it in some old climbing gear of mine. Gross.)
