Paging "Diana Glampers"

One of my wife Suzanne's favorite short stories was written by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.:  Our society has been granted equality, meaning that nobody is stronger, smarter, better-looking, more-talented...or faster...than anyone else.  The persons who are found to have those traits are handicapped by a variety of technologies and modalities.  Think the exact opposite of braces, specialized shoes and all that.  Every so often we jokingly use the name of the person in charge of handicapping everyone, Diana Glampers, to speak about situations where we've felt unduly hindered.

Over the past month we - mostly my wife, with the addition of a handful of other persons, and me to a lesser degree - have been working to put a race together.  The event, an age-graded pursuit race, has runners starting times based on the World Masters' Athletics best times for age and sex.  That means a runner in an age group with a world best time of 18 minutes would have a five-minute head start over a runner in the open male (18-34) division.  In theory, the concept of an age-graded race isn't that far out of the box.  The practice of having runners pursue one another...where in a perfect world if every runner ran at the upper limits of their performance, the entire field would be leaning at the tape...what a concept.  Sure, there are running events which, based on the assumption we suffer from diminished performance as we age, award those persons who suffer the least diminution over time, based on mathematical formulas and number-crunching. 

And in a perfect world we'd all be able to stay fit, healthy and (at least in our mind) fleet until the day we decide to not wake up in the morning.  The best older runners have somehow learned to injure themselves least, recover most efficiently, train effectively, and choose their racing schedule wisely.

But what about other handicapping systems?  What other ways could we, in our deepest "Diana Glampers" mindset, make all runners "equal" on race day?  Some of the possibilities seemed common-sense; others a little less so.

Weight - I'm not necessarily talking about the seriously-flawed "Clydesdale" and "Athena" system in triathlon, where weights of 200 and 150 pounds, respectively, are used without regard to the height of the athlete.  I always wanted to ask race director Chuck George about his "Fat Boy 5K" event; I never got to the point of asking about specifics because I was too busy laughing at the event name.  Several coaches have written, or have been quoted in books, about the correlation between excess weight in pounds and pace per mile in seconds during a race.  A race director, given the height and weight of a participant, could use an actuarial chart and do their own adjustments based on the number of pounds an athlete weighed above an insurance company's definition of "is."  What would a weight-based handicap take into account?  A couple of researchers from the University of Dayton developed a model based on weight (to include the effect of aging on a person's body composition) and run time, the results of which ideally provide a weight-age-graded performance. 

The calculator (http://academic.udayton.edu/PaulVanderburgh/weight_age_grading_calculator.htm) is most likely the first of its kind:  No other calculator can make a 165-pound, 50-year-old male lose 20 pounds and half his age, at the cost of a 5K performance.

Inseam - My buddy Charley said, "there should be a performance handicapping system based on a runner's inseam.  Guys and gals with short legs have to take more strides than tall runners; they're woking harder to cover the same distance."  I come from a family with some serious height variations; my mother (on a tall day) is 4'11", my dad is a solid six-feet.  I'm a little taller than average at 5'10, but I am a little less flexibile than the average bear, especially notable in the past couple of years when I try to throw my leg over the top tube of my triathlon bike.  But where I lack in long strides I tend to make up for in a certain degree of efficiency; a footstrike of about 160 per minute, good endurance, and mental toughness...things which aren't easily measured in a runner.

Running is an egalitarian activity; anyone with the time, the physical desire and (in most cases) a pair of shoes can engage in the activity.  Racing, on the other hand, was never meant to be normed.  We have the choice of either calculating a lot of "all-things-being-equal" factors and spending a lot of time in the world of "what-ifs," or we can realize that the ultimate competition when we toe the line is not the person/s surrounding us, but the course.

And ourselves.

Coach Hat, Husband Hat

(TROPICAL ISLE, BOURBON STREET, HOURS AFTER A VERY COLD CRESCENT CITY 10K)

So, there I was, minding my own business on a sleepy Sunday afternoon...sleepy because I was busy recovering from the morning's training and trying to not psych myself up for the evening's. My loving wife Suzanne looked up from her laptop, checking Facebook, and told me she was going to register for another half-marathon. This time, however, she wanted to go some place a little different. We've visited friends in Ohio in the autumn & participated in the Dayton River Corridor Classic; we've stayed home & run a couple of half-marathons in Pensacola & her beach. Hardest of all, she's allowed me to coach her through the Jacksonville Bank Marathon - in fact, my spectacular achilles tendon meltdown put my finishing time much closer to hers than my fragile male ego will admit.

She learned that day that she likes the half marathon distance. I learned I hadn't figured out the marathon yet...so I moved right up to triathlon. Go figure.

Her friend Laura is an accomplished marathoner (anyone who survived the infamous Chicago Marathon from a few years back is accomplished in my eyes), she suggested we all do the Mardi Gras/Rock n' Roll Half in NOLA, tie in a visit to all of her Gulf Coast friends, all that good stuff. Suzanne & I have always been of the opinion that racing-related travel, especially to a city which we'd visit for no other reason than because it is there, makes race prep that much less daunting. So it seemed a low-stress decision to register for the event.

This year is Suzanne's year to support me in my endurance endeavors: Ironman 70.3 Augusta, Ironman Florida, & Ironman 70.3 NOLA next year. We segue into my year to support Suzanne right around February/March time frame. So, she wants to do a half? No problem. Call me Coach one more time, honey...I've got your training plan right here.

There are some athletes who absolutely cannot be coached by their spouses. I know, because I advise a couple. One is a certified coach, like me. Another is married to a certified coach, albeit in a different sport - boy, you should see them on the race course.

Coaching your spouse is fraught with peril, not much different than the peril of the self-coached coach. That may sound foolish, but hear me out. When I go to the track for a speed workout, my focus is 138 percent on what I need to do, what speed I need to hit on those repeats, what rest intervals I get in between. Coaching other runners - especially if they are not at the same ability level as I - at the same time leads to frustration...either theirs or mine. Since they're paying a small sum for the training I provide, it's only fair I provide their hard-earned money's worth of attention, somewhere around 138 percent. I can subjugate my own personal needs for their 90 minute sessions two-to-three times a week.

You still with me? Okay. Now imagine one of those athletes sits in the passenger seat of your car going to & from the track workout, prepares dinner in the kitchen, sits on the couch next to you watching T.V., and so on. I have to remember Suzanne's goals are a little less intense (but no less important to her) than my own; I have to communicate with her a little more gently than I do the guys, understand she's as much my support as I am hers. When I leave the track the coach hat has to come off & the husband hat has to be put on. Trust me, karma happens.

It's not just the obvious physiological differences between men and women, but the emotional & sociological differences, too. Sometimes, even if I think I know the answer, I have to let Suzanne do what she feels is best, & stand by when the little tweaks need to be administered. She's learned in the past five years almost as much about coaching athletes as I have, & sometimes has given the exact same answer to friends I would have given. I marvel, then realize she's been through a five-year unintentional apprenticeship...standing in the background, absorbing it all in. She plays the coach card every so often with me, too. Boy, do I hate when that happens.

So, don't be too surprised if you see me at the end of February standing quietly by while my wife runs Mardi Gras/Rock n' Roll Half. I know she'll be enjoying herself; it's the place where she won't have to hear me pontificate about running. How will you recognize me? I'll be the one with the two hats...not knowing which one to wear.

Nice... Problems To Have

Every time I hit the road for a race/trip it seems the desk clerk or the concierge assumes everyone who is a runner wants pasta the night before the race. Personally, I'm not in the mood for pasta; I'd rather have Chinese...then I can have rice, and veggies and chicken.

We had some fantastic pasta in the past, I dare admit. One place near Dayton, OH, had some good stuff. But the most memorable thing had to be the abundance of garlic...Chef Emeril Lagasse was asked during one of his shows, 'how do you know when there's too much garlic?' His response almost broke the seatbelt on my couch and risked having me roll on the floor, laughing my @$$ off: 'I don't know. I haven't gotten there yet.' Okay, we were warned about the garlic content of this place's house dressing, so we went with ranch on top of our salad. HOWEVER, the chef must have caught on to our plan to avoid the bulb, because the fried calamari must have been marinated in the stuff. Yes, it was delicious, but (exhale, wrinkle nose) I think I'm still detoxifying five months after the fact.

...sounds like someone in need of a Toastmasters intervention.
My swimming coach and I were chatting after this morning's workout (once I regained consciousness/normal heart rate/normal breathing) about what easily could have been considered the match race for this local running community. Two of the area's strongest runners finally went head-to-head during a 15-mile race at Fort Pickens, on the Gulf Islands National Seashore. One specializes at racing the half-marathon and under, the other races the half-marathon and up. Both are quiet, unassuming, and modest gentlemen; coaching and inspiring many of the area's young adult runners. It's almost funny to see the running community line up behind one or the other when the (inevitable) debate arises each year. The runner who took second place has won his share of marathons. He was the first American male to win the Disney Marathon, and he's won Pensacola's marathon on at least two occasions, I believe. His comment about what happened during the race, 'I still got (sic) a little marathon in me.'
Steve was planning to ask Marathon Matt about his recovery regimen; seems an interesting topic, given the (painfully obvious) fact he raced (okay, ran - his winning time was ten minutes slower than his winning time the previous year) Pensacola two weeks before and Disney several weeks before that.

I think there's probably two or three points Matt would mention:
1. Train to peak at the right time. Know the races for which you want to be the most fit and the most ready, then walk backward as you're planning your training cycle.
2. Follow the hard/easy principle of training. If you train full-bore all year long the odds are high you will incur an injury.

3. Listen to the times when your body says it needs rest. Complete rest, active rest, and regeneration is as important as tempo runs, interval work and overdistance.
I'm certain the races Matt's run this early spring have been signposts on the way to his ultimate goal; a strong finish on Boylston Street come mid-April. You don't see him racing throughout the year. In fact, a long, steady training progression (with a single-peak period) ensures the highest and longest peak he - and most well-trained athletes - can possibly achieve.

Fatigue. Starting to see the possible benefits of massage therapists and "bone benders," especially as there are more miles on the ol' odometer. Funny, running will beat you from the behind down (unless you've got old shoes, and then it can beat up you lower back, too)...it takes that swimming and cycling we use for cross-training to beat up the rest of the musculoskeletal system. I don't get it...yet. But I will soon.
Four days so far, and I've been good on my vow to steer clear from french fried potatoes. I'm not certain whether I'll be able to hold off the entire month, but I'm going to try. I think if I see a couple of extra pounds drop off this frame it'll be the motivation to keep at it. It's an interesting paradox; while fat stores in the body are beneficial to swimming (buoyancy) they are useless excess baggage once you get on the bicycle or out on the run. Get too thin and you might be able to climb or ride strongly, but you then lack on the run...and swimming is a nightmare.
So where do we draw the line? My wife says a little more to the right than I say. There's a happy medium all over the place.

Res Ipsa Loquitur, NSPS.

ECRT/Snickers Marathon Team Log: Dayton River Corridor Half

Just got through the last of Thursday's, Friday's and yesterday's e-mails and made my boss copacetic again...ha, ha, ha... Now I can pass along my weekend in Dayton.

I'm not a big fan of air travel; well, flying is fine, it's that dehumanizing stuff that goes part-and-parcel with homeland security that bothers the heck out of me. But enough of that. This year, we were smart enough to NOT go out for a seven-mile run in Clifton Gorge the day before the half. HOWEVER, we did do a couple of nice long walks on Friday afternoon and Saturday morning...perfect...just enough to keep the brain happy and not ruin our races.

This ended up being a dining extravaganza for the group; we did most of the places that we hit last year, save for Saturday night. Instead of Spaghetti Warehouse in Dayton, we got together with the RD and his wife and did Beef O'Brady's; Ray (RD) had a great time needling me, as I was cheering for LSU and the whole joint was rooting for Louisville. Well, the reason we didn't do SW this time (I think) was because we did Giovanni's on Friday evening and nearly all of us were trying to detox from the garlic; Giovanni's house dressing was loaded with the stuff, as well as their calamari.

We worked the pre-registration and race-day packet pick-up again. Fortunately, this year the race started an hour later and we had some very smart Univ. of Dayton kids working our table, so all we had to do was train them, then sit back and help clear up any problems. If it had been a repeat of last year we all would have had a crappy morning.

Temperature/condition at race start was about 58 degrees and high overcast; for those of us from Florida that's nearly perfect conditions. Most of the local participants are good at self-seeding, and maybe perhaps a little too good, because there was a big space between the front line and the crowd. Nice problem to have.

First mile was a 6:04. I knew as I made the first turn onto the bridge on Stewart St. that it was going to be a fast start pace. I worried a little bit: 'did I just sacrifice my race for a suicidal first mile?' Second mile split was called at 12:12; I still was not pleased and knew something screwy was bound to happen. I didn't feel good at all from the get-go, really; my right hamstring was tight at the junction of the lower glute (sounds like something strength-related, but I cannot tell).

Rather than deal with the hassle of taking cups of fluid on the fly (an issue I've had in the past), or not drinking altogether (another issue I've had) I carried a small 8.5 oz bottle of water with a (whole) Nuun tablet dissolved. Half a tablet is good for 8 oz of water, but I had no clue what to do with the other half and I didn't want to put it back into the tube with the other ones. So I had something to take a hit of every ten minutes or so. A warning for those of you who might think about using Nuun as part of your hydration plan: It's mildly carbonated and it will fizz up in a hand-carried bottle; so don't use a twist-off cap or it will spray you in the face. I had a sense of deja vu every time I opened the bottle, it was like what happened to me every time someone else stuffed a lime in their Corona on Friday or Saturday evening.

Last year, there were several guys who were running near my pace for the first three-to-four miles, so I had plenty of company as we went down toward the UD boathouse and toward the bike path. This year, however, either I was going faster than my contemporaries or the field got much stronger...a great majority of the race felt like a time trial from the first two miles or so. I got the pace issue worked out on the front half of the race, fortunately, and managed to go through the first 6 miles in the low 38 range.

The first signs of 'dude, it's time to pay for those first two miles' came once we got on the bottom side of the loop (turnaround) in West Carrolton. We got onto the street (very narrowly coned off, here - barely one person wide) and off the corridor bike path at that point; I could hear the breathing and footsteps of someone behind me. I must not have been hurting as badly as I thought, because he stayed right there until we got back onto the bike path and the bridge at about 7.5 miles. Even then, the guy was not putting any big distance on me. I saw Suzanne on the bike path, running relaxed and smiling. She cheered as I went by; I looked at her with that 'I'm hurting, can you tell?' look. At the bike path, Coach Rich Davis (my coach's friend) was coming from the opposite direction (a few miles back)...looking quite relaxed. He told me 'you're 19th.' About that point, all thoughts of backing off and "mailing the return trip in" went out the window.

I changed my hydration schedule from taking a swig every ten minutes to taking a swig every mile, not that it was mattering much. I quit trying to do the 'what's my pace?' math after mile 10; at that point it gets to be too much mental. Eever try to do that stuff when you don't have enough oxygen to go to your muscles, much less your head? Pace bands or GPS are probably required or highly regarded at that point, if you're not mathematically gifted.

I was getting worried about whether four or five runners were going to roll up on me like last year. Didn't happen. In fact, I was the one who managed to roll up on about three or four, including the guy that got me before mile 7. I swung wide to the right side of the path as I came around him; he tried to slide in behind me, at which point I put in a five second surge and a slide to the left side of the path. I was not going to let anyone ride me in to the finish area.

I had one last guy who was about ten yards ahead of me from mile 12 (where I finally ditched the bottle) on. I could see he was rigging too, but there was nothing left in the tank. At the turn down into the parking lot, about 800 meters from the finish, Dale was telling me to 'get that guy.' I almost told him, 'trip him, then I can...' There was zero left for anything that looked like a kick. When we got 200 meters out from the finish, the guy pulled whatever he had left out for the kick...I had little left but fumes. I finished in 1:23:44, taking third in my age group and finishing somewhere in the top 20. For a few seconds there I was disappointed at running a one minute personal best for the half and STILL getting stomped on by two guys in my age group, until I looked at the names: John Agnew and Mike Michno. John's a three-time winner of the DRCC. Mike also is a three-time winner and has a sub-four-minute mile (or more) to his credit.

So, the DRCC was a good mid-season tune-up and test of fitness for Jacksonville. I think I'm on track for a decent day in December, once I get the hydration down pat. The long runs that are scheduled for this next six weeks and the longer mid-week tempo efforts should help. Biggest issue of all is developing pace discipline; if I go out at a low six-minute pace for the first two miles of a marathon I will be so totally screwed.

Wait! Didn't I See This Before?

For those of you who take the time to read my (sometimes) unfocused rants and ramblings, thanks. I've been a little delinquent over the week, mostly because I've little to say. I'd be delusional if I began to think that there are people in this world who wait on my every word. Maybe if I were an elite athlete, a celebrity, or a real writer it would be a different story.

With three months left before the end of the calendar year, I have to take a closer look at my own leave and earnings statements. Scariest part is not so much that I have vacation time, but trying to fit it in somewhere. Since my wife has a nasty tendency to work all those holidays that most government workers (there I go using oxymorons again) it's more a day I can sit at Panera Bread, reading my latest acquisitions from the book store, or Amazon.com...I can feel the caffeine coursing through my veins as I write.

Next week is the closest thing we will have to a vacation before the Christmas holidays; we're going to Dayton to visit my coach and his wife, stay for a couple of days, and run the Dayton River Corridor Half-Marathon. I want to go out for a little schlep the day before in the area around Yellow Springs, Glen Helen Preserve, John Bryan State Park, and the like. There are some wonderful paths out there, as well as some really nasty ones, that put almost everything I've ever run in Florida to shame.

The word is out on the beer mile. According to my business partner/swim coach, the first on-line registrant went through Active.com and did the deed. I've received a couple of phone calls about the event from folks who appreciate the fact the proceeds are coming their way, but a little concerned about being associated with an event containing beer.

Bummer.

I guess most of them never read what Benjamin Franklin was reported to have said: 'Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.' I once stated my belief that coffee was proof of the nature and existence of God, but I think Ben could be right, too.

It's probably much too early to start thinking about Hallowe'en, but I can start thinking about Kona. Next weekend, my friends, is the high holidays for triathletes and masochists; the Ford ^TM Ironman World Championship. My choice for the haku at the end...going to be either Germans Faris Al-Sultan or Normann Stadler, or the Belgian Rutger Beke, with Australians Luke Bell and Chris (Macca) McCormack possible dark horses. Macca can talk trash all he wants, but unless he has THE perfect day it's not possible. I'm going to be massively bummed, because we are in Dayton during the day and I won't be anywhere near a computer with the time to sit and watch the event stream.

Getting There is Twice the Worry

I think I b!tched and moaned about six weeks ago about the joy of air travel, concurrent with our trip to Key West. But, since I'm getting ready to go north in about four weeks for the CW Dayton River Corridor Classic Half-Marathon, I think I'll do it again. Come on, you know you love it.

I've complained long and loud about spending time in the Atlanta airport, which is the nearest hub to where we live. We've gone on occasion through Houston or Dallas-Ft. Worth, but more often than not, it's ATL. If you don't mind spending copious amounts of money on food and beverages in order to speed your wait, which for ATL is a given (I'm suspecting a conspiracy between TravelHost, Aramark, or whoever the catering company is, the FAA and the airport authority to get more money out of travelers, but the data is still a little thin.), the time in terminal can be almost comfortable. If I were to travel more often I would seriously entertain membership in one of those airline frequent traveler lounges. When I was offered an American Express/Delta Skymiles card, I thought 'all right, I've made the big time as far as travelers go...'

Little did I know that AMEX card-holding would have nothing to do with being able to get Crown Room membership. Talk about sucking bilge. Since Suzanne travels much more than I do, it would make her life much more comfortable. However, even her travel schedule occurs in fits and starts; she can be on the road for six weeks in the autumn, four in the spring, or two months in November...all at the whim of her company. Hell, with the only place I've been permitted to travel in the past year being Norfolk, VA, I've decided staying home is much more convenient. Unless the trip is some place like Honolulu, HI. Hope those guys at PTC decide to do mid-January again.

As an athlete, it's hard to get comfortable in an airline seat, especially in coach. The Key West trip had the worst of all possible scenarios; not only were we shoehorned in the back of the plane, but I had bulkhead seating. I used to like being able to look out the window when I was younger and flying from point A to point B in Texas and New Mexico, but now what I really want is leg room. I'll even suffer the indignity of having to listen to special instructions from the flight attendant in order to have an exit row seat, if there's more room for me to stretch my legs.

This time, I set up the seating arrangements for Dayton.

Rather than sitting the two of us directly next to each other in the same row, on the same side of the plane, I made certain we both got aisle seats, especially for the trip south. She might not appreciate it so much on the trip north, but I think she will on the trip home.

What if airlines required a BMI measurement in order to determine seating? We could place all of the hefty (and invariably sweaty during summertime) passengers into their own special section. Better yet, they get the side of the plane with the two-seat rows, so they can wrestle with each other over who gets the armrest.

Beats telling them to go Greyhound.