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: