The Forecast

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 4^th 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. 

Real Running Unplugged

The Tools of the Trade

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.

Get your emails in soon for the upcoming Real Running Mailbag! gregsrealrunning@gmail.com

*I’m kidding about the dog, but it honestly wouldn’t surprise me of some over-zealous dog owner out there has outfitted his dog with tunes.

On Quitting, Safety, and Daylight

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.

The Well Armed Runner?

A story came across my news feed this morning about a runner being attacked in Seward Park while she was on one of the trails. No further information about the motivation for the attack, but the victim is out of the hospital and apparently fine after being knocked to the ground and hit a few times.

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:

The Long Run

 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?

And now I just jinxed myself. Great.