How to Get Hurt

How to Get Hurt

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.

The Heat is Beating Me

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.

Ragnar Northwest Passage

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?

Visit the Ragnar Website at http://www.ragnarrelay.com/

The Kenya Edition

The Real Running "Staff" at the Equator

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.

Cura Orphanage http://curaorphanage.org/Cura_Orphanage/Welcome.html 

Shoe 4 Africa http://www.shoe4africa.org/

Asante Sana. Thank you.

See you back in the states!

In Solidarity With Cyclists: The Wave Campaign

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.)

The Spectator's Report

This past weekend I traveled to the Vancouver Marathon. My plan was to run it but a late-week diagnosis of stress fractures in my leg sidelined me and put a serious crimp in my plan to submit a mile-by-mile race report for this month’s Real Running. Since my friend Cap’n Ron was planning to run, I decided at the last minute to tag along in a role completely foreign to me: spectator.

The thing is, I had no idea how to be a spectator. My inexplicably devoted partner has mastered the art, and while I knew I couldn’t hope to come close to matching her standard, I took some cues from her in preparation for the role.

As with any good role, that of spectator requires research and planning. I made sure to study the course map to look for likely viewing locations and areas where meeting up with Cap’n Ron would be easiest. You have to be strategic in this planning. Do you want to see your runner as many times as possible or at the most beneficial location? Or do you want to go the NASCAR way and camp out at mile 22 to watch the wheels come off as runners hit the wall?

I went with frequency. I marked my map for miles 7, 10, and 17 and did the math to figure out when Cap’n Ron would be at each marker. Math is hard, but I worked it out. There’s an app for that.

With my carefully packed bag – water, gel packs, dry clothes, camera, notebook, map of the city – I watched a marathon from the sidelines for the first time. As with most things in life, it’s the people you meet along the way that are the most interesting, and you just don’t notice them when you are running. Like a real journalist I took out my notebook and camera and got down to work.

Around the starting line there were mostly huge families in matching t-shirts out to cheer on cousin Bobby who was running his first marathon. “Run Bobby Run” indeed. This crowd watches their runner pass by and heads right back for the hospitality tent to wait for the finish and to drink coffee.

As I packed up and started across town to my first scheduled stop, I took the time to chat with Homeless Bill. That’s really what he called himself. Bill loves Marathon Sunday. As he casually walked along the second mile of the course stuffing discarded gloves, hats, and shirts into his bag, he told me that race day provides him with clothes for the entire year. I took Bill to Starbucks for a cuppa and a bite, and went on to Mile 7.

There I met Volunteer Woman. Zero connection to running or to the marathon. Just liked to “do stuff.” Her job? Stand in the rain and tell people to turn left and go up the hill. In the rain. For 5 hours. Back to Starbucks I went to bring Volunteer a warm up.

At mile 10 I took a shift handing out water with kids from a local elementary school. I retroactively apologize to every volunteer I have ever spilled water on. Sheesh. Those people get soaked! Kudos to Vancouver, by the way, for using filtered water and biodegradable cups.

At mile 17 a crowd had formed. While waiting for Cap’n Ron to come up the hill I met Larry. Larry and his wife Katherine are both marathoners, but they take turns at races. Katherine ran Los Angeles. Larry ran Boston. Katherine ran Vancouver…

I also met another kind of spectator: the confused local. Desiree wandered out of her apartment to see what the hubbub was about and ended up staying. “Is it ok to cheer for people you don’t know?” It is, Desiree. And us runners sort of count on it. “Are these runners fast?” Well…everything is relative, Desiree.

And of course there are the finish liners. Rooting for the downtrodden, the unlikely half-marathon finishers, and anyone in a costume. Completely ignoring the young man from Everett who smashed his PR by 14 minutes and finished at 2:59:58…

Congratulations to everyone who watched a marathon this month. Great work out there.

Final Lesson: I now believe strongly that anyone who runs more than one race a year should be required to volunteer for at least one more. All of you who skip the Seattle Marathon because it’s too cold or too close to Thanksgiving should still come out and sip a latte on the sidelines in Madison Park. Even if you don’t formally volunteer, take one weekend off and go out to the race to watch and support the runners. I think we should have a category for this on our PR lists: number of races observed.

Coming Back

As you will learn in this month's print feature from Real Running, I ended up having to skip the Vancouver Marathon due to stress fractures in my lower leg. The MRI doesn't lie.

So now here I am thinking about how and when to get back into my shoes and start running, and what to do this time around so that I don't train for months only to stand on the sidelines as the Portland Marathon goes past me. Not that I don't love shaking a cowbell now and again.

So let's take this step by step. Literally.

Step One: Doctor Approval. You know those ads for exercise balls and bungie cord workout plans that tell you to consult your doctor before starting any exercise program? How many people do you think really do that? I imagine Dr. Hilarious receiving dozens of calls a day: "Hi doctor, I was thinking about walking briskly today, is that ok?"

Well, this is a case where you absolutely have to consult a doctor. If you live in Canada, you can do this. Those of you in the states? You're on your own.

If a doctor told you to stop running, you need to wait until said doctor gives you clearance to run again. In my case this meant 3 weeks of no running and minimal impact. I'm coming up on that three weeks right...NOW.

One of the most common injury recovery mistakes is coming back too early. Especially if your injury, like mine, was an overuse injury, you need to take your doctor's advice and be conservative with your return time. Sorry. While you're waiting for your return, focus on cross training. Every beer weighs 12 ounces PLUS the weight of the glass or bottle...(Which reminds me, you probably gained a little weight along the injury trail. Keep that in mind on your first time out.)

Step Two: Fix the Problem. An overuse injury will heal, but unless you fix the underlying problem, it will just happen again. More likely, you will suffer a different but related injury the next time around. So before you lace up the shoes and joyously return to the track, let's slow down there, cowboy.

One way to fix the problem is to quit running. Consider that first. Realize that it isn't an option? Good.

Take a look at your shoes. Tired old rubber with weak stitching and rotten insoles? Those don't help. Take the time to get a GOOD fitting and to find the right shoe for you. Real Running resists the urge to promote a specific product or store without endorsement contracts (hint hint) so let me just say that finding a reputable, local store operated by actual runners who are trained to fit running shoes is important. Ask around. And shop around. If a salesperson doesn't watch you run but just sticks you in a pair of stability shoes, move along. Get the right shoe. And once you know what your shoe is, go online and buy as many pairs as you can before the manufacturer changes them! And no, I don't really want to entire the debate over barefoot running. But thanks.

Then, take a look at your form. Most of us in Real Running World aren't track athletes and don't have coaches. Most of us just go out and run. And this is fine until you start building up the miles. Proper form makes you faster, more efficient, and less injury prone.

Here's a hint: if you are striking heel first, you are seriously abusing your skeleton. And as we know from Scooby Doo, skeletons are scary when they're mad.

Take some time during your first few runs back after an injury to really concentrate on form. Go to the track (I know, I hate the track too) and have someone take some photos of your foot strike and stance. Shoot some cheap cellphone video of your running stride and analyze it for movements that cause stress on the body. Then fix it. Fix it BEFORE your mileage starts to build up.

Fixing your form will keep injuries down and will probably make you faster and more efficient. Seems worth it. And it's free. No gizmos or gadgets. No bands, fuels, or fabrics. Just better biomechanics.

Step Three: Change the Game. So your doctor says you can run. You've found the right shoe. You've repaired that crazy gait of yours. Let's take a look at one more element that probably caused your injury in the first place: your plan.

Combined with biomechanical issues, simple overuse is what does you in. It's hard to get seriously hurt if you never run more than a few miles. But once the miles creep into the double digits, things can go wrong.

This isn't to say you can't get the miles loaded up before the next marathon, but you have to, for once in your life, be smart about this. Build, but build slowly.

Never add more than 20% distance from one long run to the next. If you ran 10 miles last Sunday, don't run more than 12 this Sunday. Simple math. Even for me.

I have started to seriously question the wisdom of 20+ mile runs for recreational marathon training. It's after 20 that injuries seem to set in, and there are plenty of coaches out there who don't advocate anything over 18. This time around, I am staying below 20 on all of my long runs. Instead I am running on time.

Rather than training to a distance, I am training to a time. The idea in long runs is to condition your body into sustained effort over a long period of time. Rather than measuring your runs on distance - which encourages a fast pace, which encourages poor form, which causes injury - set your watch to let you know when you have reached halfway, and then just turn around. 15 minutes out and 15 back is a great short run. 2 hours out and 2 hours back is a torturous, horrifying, painful long run. But neither encourages injury.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go out and try to break all of these rules. Do as I say, not as I do.