Saturday, July 29, 2006
Strides
The September issue of Runner's World pays tribute to 40 years of publication. In addition to history--RW entered the scene in 1966 as Distance Running News, in '70 adopting the moniker The Runner's World and dropping the The a year after; and, news to me, many of the mag's regular contributors have been on board for 20-plus years--"A Good Long Run" includes practical advice and inspiring quotes from said contributors, many of them prominent runners themselves (Joan Benoit Samuelson, Bill Rodgers, Hal Higdon). In reading the article, I felt a bit of pride swell in my chest, thinking about my own involvement in a sport taken up by so many amazing personalities past and present. Here are a few gems (hate that word in that context, but not as much as I hate 'nugget'):
Joan Benoit Samuelson: "I've always run by the seat of my pants I've never been very scientific about my training. I run the way I feel. Now, of course, w/ things like heart-rate monitors, it's easier to get more scientific about it all. But to tell you the truth, if I was coming into my prime right now, I probably wouldn't do things much differently." [K: Here ye! No heart-rate monitor or fancy running watch here.]
Bill Rodgers: "After 40 years of running on one side of the road and always tilting a little bit to the left, I think it tilted me a bit and resulted in a leg-length differential. Runners can counter such effects by periodically switching to the other side of the road." [K: Well I'll be.]
George Sheehan: "You can actually be pretty playful w/ treadmill training, which can result in some excellent workouts. You can speed up or slow down at will, and you can throw in 'hills' any time you want. And you're not stuck out in the middle of nowhere if you can't handle what you're doing." [K: This actually got me to the gym for cardio this morning. It'll be playful. Playful. Playful. I always say I hate the stupid treadmill, that it bores me to tears, but positive thinking + a 90-degree forecast worked wonders.]
John Bingham: "The only way for a beginner to truly understand how welcoming the sport of running has become is to put on a race number and join us." [K: Love it. Because it's really that easy. The running community kicks ass.]
Bart Yasso: "Yasso 800s are a good way to gauge your fitness level during marathon training and help you predict your finishing time. The key is to build up to running 10 x 800 meters w/ a 400-meter recovery between each repeat. You need to do at least two of these sessions three to five weeks before the marathon. If you're able to run your 800s in three minutes and 30 seconds, you're in shape to run a 3:30 marathon. For many people, the correlation is spot on. Do these workouts midweek, say, on Wednesday, when you've done your long run on the w/e. If you run your 800s on totally fresh legs, you'll do them a heck of a lot faster." [K: As I'd love that time, and came close once, this is a definite note-to-self.]
Amby Burfoot: "Don't expect to be in top shape at all times. Everyone has down periods, either deliberate or otherwise. You can always get back in shape." [K: Ever-helpful to keep in mind.]
But my favorite bit, in reference to the evolution of running and the need for a running-based publication like RW, is this:
"... Still, while growing, distance running's fundamental qualities somehow--thankfully--stay rooted. First, there's its universality: Running is vitually the same in Soweto, South Africa, as in California's Central Valley; in Managua, Nicaragua, as in Zuni Pueblo, New Mexico; in New York City as in the sand hills of Nebraska, all places I've traveled to for the magazine. There's also its spiritual quality: It's impossible for a person to run for any sustained period w/o thinking, wondering, and, in his or her own way, praying. And, finally, there's its appeal to the everyday athlete--to teachers and nurses and the unemployed and soldiers and convicts and cancer patients and insurance adjustors. People striving to find the time in their day--that "hour w/ the gods," as Dr. Sheehan called it, to go for a run. And once they do, they want to share w/ other like souls how that hour graces the remainder of their day. We know exactly how they feel." --John Brant
Ah, yes.
Speaking of RW, about a month back I landed a second assignment through them: a profile piece on a runner-chef I found online. See, the mag features a monthly column called The Athlete's Palate, which is as it sounds. The guy I tracked down runs a small Mediterranean restaurant down south and has been a real kick to work w/. The coolest part: He, a RW subscriber, told me that when the column debuted, he made it his mission to 'one day be that profiled chef.' Happy to help! Also RW-related, MSN picked up my June story, and Syracuse's Post-Standard ran a story wherein the author mentions it as well. Fun!
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Tracks
Haven't written about the running in awhile, and since I'm feeling inspired by M's recent success, here goes.
Six weeks ago I was feeling slumpy--probably some combination of dreaded summer heat, rebuff #2, and general boredom. I needed fresh goals, which eventually materialized in the form of this and this, the latter to be run alongside dear friend and fellow ex-Bluebird Tiff/Tiffers/Tippy/Titanium/Tiffany. The plan is to re-qualify for Boston w/ this one, and considering the bulk of my training will take place in fall/winter, I figure my chances aren't half-bad. Anyway, since printing out a new training schedule, things have been on the up. I'm back to five days of running a week plus weights two or three. Now if I could just ditch the daily Starbucks dark chocolate-covered graham cracker habit, summer's evil influence on ice cream consumption, and an unchecked passion for Cheez-Its, I'd be golden.
A couple of recent notable runs...
Tuesday, July 25: This one was supposed to happen on Sunday morning, then Monday, but this damn heat takes so much out of me during the day that I end up sleeping way past my usual six point five hours. It was Tuesday before I finally got my act together, and even then I got a late start and had to cut an hour forty-fiver 15 minutes short. No matter, as I barely managed to eek out the hour thirty for reasons unrelated to the need to get to work on time. For those of you Westies, Tuesday saw temps climb well into the 90s (I know, you've got yours coming this w/e), and even w/ a seven o'clock start, I wasn't the smartest. But whatever--my fault for putting it off.
The first 20 minutes passed easily enough, helped by a still-frozen bottle of Poland Springs and this blind, pesky optimism that always insists on following me out the front door. By 30, I was scrambling to maintain an easy warmup/cooldown pace. I kept thinking how great a cab sounded, how I might just have Pea run downstairs w/ a 10 and call it an honest effort. But I knew I wouldn't actually give in, if for no other reason--and when a run's sucky, this is sometimes all I've got--than the understanding that August's race would be that much more painful w/o adequate training behind me. So I did what I could to maximize my shade-time, keeping to the east sidewalk of the West Side Highway for most of the way. Still, it was just gross, and made worse by sucking down a packet of chocolate Power Gel. Generally this gives me a lift, but in the heat, the stuff settled like lead in my stomach. Plus, I'd probably been a little overeager w/ the water, and then there was the Clif bar I'd scarfed too soon before starting... Crummy, too, because such running misery erases all hope of external distraction (plenty to take in visually over there; for instance, the stunning vista that is Jersey), leading one to associate almost entirely internally, an balanced internal/external association being optimal. Ugh--a run notable only for its purpose as a reminder of what not to do.
Thursday, July 6: I don't usually run long mid-week, but E was due in so I figured I'd get it out of the way early, not anticipating much running over the w/e. Did a variation on an old favorite, heading north along the East River, then crossing into Queens via the 59th Street Bridge w/ the intention of an eventual return to Manhattan courtesy of the Williamsburg Bridge. Now, although I'd covered this exact route before, I had some trouble recalling the overpass (name and location) that connects Queens to Brooklyn. In fact, it escapes me still, and since I'm feeling too lazy to look it up, it'll go unnamed. Anyhow, I kept trying to go south yet kept looping back up into Queens, misguided by three different people on three separate occasions. Not even the construction workers seemed to know where it was they were. Speaking of, here's one problem I have w/ NYers: not that they're rude or unhelpful, because they're not, but that they're too eager to help, eager to the point of giving wrong and/or inadequate directions when it'd make more sense simply to shrug and keep walking.
I'd started checking my watch compulsively by now, sweating more heavily w/ each passing minute. I recall seeing the numbers 8, 5 and 0, in that order, and thinking how implausible was a ten o'clock start to the workday. (That's right, I start at ten. Really!) Plus, I still wasn't quite sure where I was, and I knew there was no way I had time to reach and cross the W Bridge. Yet I also recall feeling strangely secure that things would work out, that I'd somehow manage to pull of a timely arrival. Thankfully, minutes later I found myself at the Lorimer stop of the L, panting and awaiting the next Manhattan-bound train in the company of starched shirts and espadrilles. Of course, this being NY, no one bats an eyelash at a sweaty weirdo in a sports bra, so no worries there. All worry drained out of me, in fact, as I realized it was only just nine and I was already halfway to First & 14th.
Two stops later, I hop off the train, bound up the stairs and sprint homeward. Twenty minutes later, I'm back outside, having showered and spiffed up quick for work. A brisk walk to Astor finds the 6 ready and waiting. One stop later and, what do you know, the 5 beckons, whisking me express-style uptown and delivering me at, whoa, three minutes 'til. Man oh man, the gust of adrenaline was extraordinary. And now, because I knew I was going here: NY transit is so brilliantly efficient. That I can be two stops out in Brooklyn less than an hour before my Midtown job calls and still make it home in time for a shower, a 10-minute walk to a second train, and a downtown-uptown commute... It all makes my head spin.