Private Equity Race Enthusiasts

Suzanne and I are not “typical” destination race enthusiasts. 

We have traveled to Augusta GA, Jacksonville FL, Nashville TN, New Orleans, and Panama City FL, for the sole purpose to run a road race or do a triathlon, but we are, for lack of a more-eloquent term, “private equity” racers.

If you’re not familiar with how private equity works, a private equity firm generally uses shareholder money to purchase firms.  They pay back the shareholder either by the purchased firm’s profit or the liquidation of its assets.  Suzanne and I aren’t quite so mercenary; we look for race events which coincide with business travel and adjust our schedule so as to be able to participate in the race, then take care of the project or attend the conference.  She has raced the ING Half-Marathon in Miami twice, done a couple of 10-kilometer runs in Orlando, FL, as well as a few other small races.

My day job entails doing work for a large government organization.  I spent my first year as part of a civilian education and training internship (living out of a suitcase) in exotic locations; Great Lakes, Illinois.  Arlington, Virginia.  Orlando.  It took me three years to learn my way around Pensacola, much to the chagrin of my wife.  My running habit was not lost on my fellow interns.  Once, when we were slated to attend a conference sponsored by the American Society of Training Development, my friend Terri Kelly said, “Mikey, there’s a run that weekend, too.”  Both Terri and her husband Tom spent some time In San Diego, and Tom ran his share of races, including the Bay Bridge 4-Miler.

Having run the Bushwacker 5K, a race where you run over a bridge in 90-degree heat and 90-percent humidity, I figured this couldn’t be “much” worse.  I was correct.

I have a mug with the San Diego skyline from a coffee purveyor whose name sounds much like “Four Bucks.”  Just inside the rim is printed a phrase: ’78 Degrees and Sunny.”  If you’re going to run, it might as well be in San Diego.  The weather can be very warm as you move more inland, but the city as a whole is a meteorologist’s – and a runner’s – dream.

The Bay Bridge run starts near the Convention Center and Gaslamp Square District, goes down Harbor Drive, then turns after a mile to go onto the Coronado Bay Bridge.  Gaslamp Square on a Sunday morning is like Bourbon on a Sunday morning, only more quiet.  I was fortunate to be fairly close to the front when I raced; the race announcers were making a big deal over a nine-year-old girl who was some age-group ace.  Her father was also running so as to keep her from being trampled.  When the gun went off we were all hell-bent for election, hauling down Harbor.  Darned if the little girl and her father didn’t leave me in the dust.  Just after one mile we approached Cesar Chavez Parkway and the on-ramp to the bridge.  Take that right hand turn and…holy cats…that IS a bridge.

The Coronado Bay Bridge is steep.  Not terribly steep, but it seems to keep going and going.  All you can do is what most smart folks do when racing on a hill; shorten the stride and increase the turnover.  And, most importantly of all, keep moving.  I caught the waif and her father about half a mile up the bridge and gave a brief word of encouragement.  Perhaps, though, I should have kept it for myself.  The two-mile mark is at the top of the bridge, just enough time to look out straight ahead toward the Hotel Del Coronado (glorious!), North Island and the Silver Strand (site of future post-marathon recovery jaunts).  Also at the top is a suicide hotline phone number.  I remember telling a fellow runner, “I’m not in the mood to jump and I don’t have a cell phone, so I guess we’ll just have to run the rest of the way down.”

Downhill on the bridge is a comfort and joy, it seems much less painful than hammering down the hills on our training loop around Bayou Texar.  Next thing I know we are not only back on terra firma (the more firmer, the less terror…) on Coronado Island but still have a little less than a mile to go.  The race finishes in Tidelands Park, traveling down a footpath and into a grass chute.  I felt bad for all the guys who finished only a few minutes behind me, as the race announcer made a point to inform them and the spectators…they had been beaten by a nine-year-old girl.

As the race was sponsored by the Navy Morale, Welfare and Recreation group, I don’t recall whether there was beer during the post-race – besides, we were stuck going to some mindless educational seminar – but the post-race celebration and awards were top-notch.  A fleet (pun not necessarily intended) of shuttle buses carried runners back over to Gaslamp Square and the Convention Center.  All in all, the Bay Bridge 4-Miler stands as one of the more demanding, yet scenic races I’ve ever run.

And well worth traveling to on someone else's money.

One Toe Over The Line...

I went out and ran my first 5K road race in many months a couple of weeks ago. I needed to run a test 5K to assess my fitness level & adjust some of the training intensities, & the weather was just beginning to feel less like Florida. 'Why not?' I said to myself. I didn't perform anywhere near as well as I hoped, but it proved some things I already knew:

A four-week training vacation at the beginning of the summer is never a good idea.

Ten excess pounds does add an extra minute of time to an estimated 5K race performance.

Change...and inertia...can coexist.

Over a cup of coffee & breakfast with my wife & Walter, a local running friend, I took a thirty-minute analysis of what needed to be adjusted in my training & began to make a few small repairs (some of which are in earlier blog posts).

While running a tempo workout the other Wednesday, I passed an old friend. He caught up with me at the bar where we meet after the run & complimented me on how well I had been running lately. Randy loves racing 5K events; he'll not hesitate to jump in his truck & drive an hour so he can run for 25 minutes, then drink light beer for two hours.

From Labor Day to Thanksgiving, here in the Panhandle, there can be anywhere from one up to to three 5K races for a nearly unbroken string of weekends. It then eases off a little into the holiday season & kicks back into swing just after New Years' Day. Randy asked me where I planned to race this weekend. I had to tell him, 'nowhere, my friend.' Not that I don't like racing 5Ks.

When I first started racing, a 5K road race could leave me napping in the recliner for the remainder of the day. As I've matured...all right, aged...I've become more functional. Slower in my walk, but more functional.

About five or six years ago we had a large group of guys & gals who would meet to run at 6:00 a.m. on Sundays. The first mile usually would be kinder & gentler; most of the group were still waking up during that time. Inevitably the pace would pick up a little by the first incline. You could sometimes tell who had raced the day before. One of the guys, a fellow by the name of Gary, once told me it was not good training to race the day after a race. He used to tell me, "Mike, the day after a good race I like to go easy. The day after a bad race I like to go easy." Gary's "easy" the day after a race was often tougher than his race pace. Looking back at that statement & the source; it was one of those "things that make you go 'hmmm...'"

Once the guys (and the occasional chick!) forgot we left our bib numbers on the coffee table the previous afternoon & would begin to string out the group, my coach would have to remind me to not get "happy feet." It was a historical inevitability the front-running pace would eventually slack off. The group always reformed before the water stop at 40 minutes into the run.

Racing, when done right, is painful business. Even if you don't have a number on your chest.

What is it about pinning a bib number & toeing a line with a herd of runners that makes otherwise sane persons suddenly become brain-dead about how hard they need to run? I've often warned my athletes an "easy effort" on race day is almost impossible unless they're truly disciplined. Too many good potential 10K, half-marathon or marathon performances have been spit-canned by jumping into a 5K "just for fun."

The occasional race is a good thing. It serves as a social outlet, sharpens up a runner's skills, & lets them know exactly where they stand in the grand old pecking order of runners. But sometimes too much of a good thing can be harmful. My friend Betsy decided to run four...or five...marathons in a year about two years ago. When she asked what I thought about her running the fifth one that year I had to take a very deep breath and stifle the urge to shriek in horror: "Are you out of your mind!?"

There are several rules of thumb which ought to be followed, more or less, when it comes to recovery or hard training after a race:

1. A day of non-impact exercise or rest - I prefer rest - for every hour of racing.

2. A day of easy training efforts for every mile raced.

If you have developed a good base of training & love to do half-marathon distance races, you can probably segue into a 12-week cycle after a week or so. Marathoners can probably segue into a new 12-to-16 week cycle after two to three weeks.

As always - like Jiminy Cricket - let your conscience & your body be your guide.

Because it will tell you when you aren't following the rules.

Off (Or On?) A Tangent

I've run road races since 1995, but never really learned about how to run a course until I raced the 2003 Recycler Run in Ft. Walton Beach, FL. It was there Brian McMahon taught me how to run a race course. The Recycler Run course winds through a residential area, but what made this course even more interesting, outside of the live oaks on both sides through the neighborhood, were the gorgeous sweeping turns. There might have been two miles of straight road on the course...in total, but at no more than a two-block stretch at a time.

We had a gorgeous, cool, overcast morning for the race, so it didn't take long for us to get comfortable on course. I was pacing former Pensacola Runners Association president David Harris, who wanted to run 19 minutes for 5,000 meters, so we needed to run about a 6:19 pace. A pack of us were moving at about 6:20 pace, with Brian just a little ahead. We caught up with him & kept a comfortable clip. As we exited a corner, I could feel a little bit of a nudge from Brian, who was off my right shoulder. Brian & I at that time had a history of pulling a little college cross-country physicality (elbows & shoulders) on each other, so this was nothing new. I nudged him back.

He nudged my shoulder again, & said: "Mike, run the tangent." At that point I suddenly realized what he was doing. I always heard the shortest distance between two points was a straight line but to that point in my racing career had never practiced the technique. This had a lot to do with some of the courses I raced in Tampa being straight out-and-back types.

I could see a couple of guys perhaps five seconds ahead of us; at first glimpse they appeared to be drunk & weaving from the left to the right side of the road. Ah, so they were running the tangent. Brian & the rest of us commenced to play "follow the leader" until the turn-around point on the course, then headed back. I not only ran a good race, bringing David painfully close to his goal of a 19-minute 5K, but also learned that day road racing is a thinking person's game.

You can't go into a road race, shut your mind off & expect to run your best. Pacing yourself is one thing, & smart training is another, but you can needlessly waste precious seconds on a road race by not knowing the course & not running the shortest possible distance.

Most people know I measure courses for USA Track and Field certification. It's one reason I don't run a lot of races in Pensacola. If I show up for a local race three things happen: I'm asked whether the course is certified. I'm asked if I measured the course. And, I'm confronted by runners who say the course was long, according to their GPS receiver.

There aren't many races I'll run which are not on a certified course. I want to know the distance is reasonably accurate (which USATF defines as "not short"). This way I can tell how well my training has progressed over time. I've written much about the USATF measurement protocol, so I won't go into detail here. But even I forget about the technical limitations of GPS receivers & the USATF/AIMS (AIMS is the international marathon measurement authority) protocol. When I ran the Rock n' Roll/Mardi Gras Half Marathon last year in New Orleans my GPS mile splits would beep initially about five seconds (eventually a minute) before the measured mile splits. I fussed for a second, & then remembered the additional 5.28 feet/1.609 meters which were added to each mile to make certain I didn't run less than a half marathon.

But a lot of GPS wearers don't take the time to understand the measurement protocols, don't know the limitations of their equipment (up to 25 feet of error at a single point) &, most importantly, do not run the shortest possible distance on the race course.

Rather than take a winding section of road - some sections are more winding than others - let me use a standard 400-meter track as an example:

- The width of one lane of a standard 400-meter running track is 1.25 meters.

- An athletic track lane distance calculator (http://www.brianmac.co.uk/tracklane.htm) shows the distance around a 400-meter track, in lane three (3.75 meters out from the inside rail) is 415.71 meters.

- Multiply the additional distance by 12.5 (the number of laps in a 5,000 meter track race) and the total distance is 5,196.375 meters.

- The width of one lane of a two-lane roadway with a shoulder is approximately 3.75 meters, a little over 12 feet in width. Even when the five added meters for USATF's short course prevention factor is subtracted, that's an additional 191 meters of distance to run if you're one lane of road out from the tangent for the entire race.

Lose your concentration for five seconds if you're running a six-minute per mile pace & you can add a little over 20 meters to the distance run at a 5K.

In closing, even a set of legs, a heart & lungs in the best of shape can be defeated by a brain that's not prepared on race day. Knowing the course & running the tangents can save a runner from running an unnecessary additional three percent of course distance.

Things A Real New Orleans Runner Will Never Tell You

As my wife Suzanne & I have "matured" in our running lives we've slowly, steadily progressed out of the comfort zone we see in many of our running friends. It's difficult to maintain the joy of the sport, or realize just how good you have it (or how much better you can have it) in your home town until you travel somewhere else and run or race. Runners who race only in their home town, or don't take their running gear with them when they travel, miss the boat. Representing the northern half of Florida has allowed me to see cities like Chicago, Cincinnati, San Francisco & New Orleans, to name a few burgs, at a pace & perspective most business or pleasure travelers never get.

We've tried to encourage some of our close friends to toddle along with us on occasion to Key West, Jacksonville, Nashville, San Diego, Honolulu, and even outside the country...especially if there were cool places to see/be or cool races to do/get through. It didn't hurt to have: a) coaches who told sea stories about their favorite running places and partners, trying (like a parent does to a stubborn three-year-old) to diversify our running taste buds, and b) jobs which have required varying degrees of travel at diffferent times of the year.

And it doesn't necessarily take a convention trip to get us out the door. The challenge in our district is what I like to call the "Jumpy Two Equation." A friend of mine (her e-mail address includes "jumpy two") told me once she will travel to events as long as the event duration is longer than the drive. My district, from end-to end, is a nearly-eight hour drive. Since I don't like to race events longer than the half-marathon distance (a distance I can truly race & still feel semi-all right the next day), that kind of limits me to a two-hour window of opportunity...unless we (read: my wife) have business travel which can be tied in to justify such a junket, er, journey.

For Suzanne & me, a jaunt to New Orleans has progressed from being "strictly tourism" (Vieux Carre' all the way) to "race-related tourism" (run 10K, then Vieux Carre'), to "business & pleasure" (plug & pray, run 10K, Vieux Carre') to "checking in with the extended family." (5:20, Snooie Bread, Community Cafe', Speedo jokes, etc.) The more we run in NOLA, and with NOLA people when they come to see us, the more we find out what a real NOLA runner will - and will not - say.

We'll wait until after sunrise. This goes without regard to the season or climate conditions. A real NOLA runner knows to start a long training run early. Starting a run after sunrise during the summer is considered by local emergency room doctors to be an act of near-suicidal proportions. During winter, however, starting the run at the scheduled time is a sign of real NOLA runner discipline. For example, if you're running with 5:20 & your run is going longer than ten, it's better that you start earlier than you not show up to breakfast at the appointed hour.

Watch out for ice on the road. Okay, after Jackson Day weekend that might not be so correct. And the odds of seeing ice on the roadway - away from the Quarter - is fairly slim. Of course, this last weekend, Slim did show for 5:20. In fact, I saw Slim in a couple of locations. There are other hazards to running on NOLA roads which I've chalked up as normal state of affairs (usually treated with very comfortable shoes & ibuprofen for the next few days) after nearly ten years, but ice is one of those one-off things. No real NOLA runner will think to warn you about ice on the road. It just isn't all that common.

We can run on the median. Silly me, the social studies/history major. Why didn't they teach me this tidbit of information at the University of Tampa? Like anything else in NOLA, there are things which are said/done a little differently in NOLA than we highlanders know. I heard (NOTC president Aaron, & RRCA LA rep Betsy) Boudreaux talk about neutral ground when talking courses in the past. Didn't put two-and-two together until jogging up Esplanade & we got on that nice, wide, tree/grass/bush strip I called a median. You'd have thought I'd hit a canine land mine up there and kicked it into the face of a local. I was quickly corrected on that faux pas. 'Dude,' I was icily informed, 'we call those neutral ground.' I swear it's all the fault of the French & Spanish. Not me.

This is a hilly course. Unless a real NOLA runner leaves NOLA they never race on a really hilly course. Thing is, even the slightest positive elevation change is a negative to a real NOLA runner. Real NOLA runners have the most sensitive internal inclinometers known to man. Forget about taking them on an easy, slightly hilly 8.2-mile loop run. The real NOLA runner will not be looking at the scenery or the houses, but looking for the flattest route to the finish...or asking how many more climbs there are. One of the courses I've measured, a point-to-point from downtown Pensacola to Pensacola Beach, goes over two spans of water. Oh, there is a viaduct probably the height of the bridge on Wisner, which some have taken to call a bridge. So, rather than call that event the Double Bridge Run, I will recommend to the race organization, on behalf of all real NOLA runners, it be renamed "Two and a Half Bridges." Fair enough?

I've got other things to catch up on. The run is not over until you've had breakfast, or lunch, or adult beverage of choice. Usually this is where side bets, wagers or dares are paid in full, & roll is taken to determine whether you were really there. Ask 5:20. Once you've checked in & been duly chastened because of the shirt or hat you were forced to wear because your team lost, or you got 'chicked,' then you know the love of the real NOLA runner.

In towns where the act of running can be hazardous to one's health, it's nice to know there are other like-minded lunatics evading homicidal hack handlers, defusing "canine land mines" & enduring (or returning) pithy one-liners at street-corner orthopedic practitioners. It's our reality, & we take comfort in the common bond. See you guys in about six weeks, unless we can justify coming sooner...our bosses are beginning to get suspicious.

Blip On The Horizon

Been home for eight hours from Panama City, a trip originally planned to take an extra day. Quality time with my wife (in spite of the previous week in Dubai) comes few & far between.

We talked about going to Ironman Florida as spectators. As most participants will tell you (once the DOMS fades) it's nothing like the telecasts on Versus or NBC...in many ways it's better, in my humble opinion. I'll have a couple of (phone camera) photos posted in the next day or so, fleeting glimpses of things I saw during the first six hours of the day. I did not take any shots of the run or the finishers because of my (poor) vantage point in the finishing chute, however.

I volunteered to work a three-hour shift at the finish line, handing out bottles of water to finishers, but was placed a little further down the finish chute, to help hand out finisher shirts and hats. Let me tell you, the range of emotions displayed by nearly all of the finishers (not just first-timers) ran the gamut of shock & numbness to emotional overflow. Who would have thought a man would weep like a seven-year-old child at finishing under ten hours?
No, I truly enjoyed seeing & experiencing...& being a part of the experience...over two thousand brave souls test themselves against the Gulf of Mexico, the roads of Bay County, & the streets of Panama City Beach. Of course, there wasn't the heat, hills & winds of Kona, but for many, this was as good as it got.
And, as my wife knew, I was stoked to be there, & be a small part of the equation. I knew I had to become, somehow (as Faris Al-Sultan said), part of the family. Which, outside of the $500 entry fee, meant a year (technically a year & six days) of commitment to a goal.
Well, the decision was 90-percent made before I left the house on Friday afternoon, but I made certain Suzanne completely bought in to the ideal & the plan. I did have a 30-second moment of what am I thinking? the minute before I provided my information...& a 30-second moment the minute after.
My friend Steven stepped out of the tent about three minutes after I had my confirmation sheet. 'I guess there's no turning back now, is there?' I asked.
So, like watching a tropical storm on the radar screen you know is going to put you into the hurt locker soon enough...and soon enough for Steven, myself, & another 2,000 of us...is coming on November 7, 2009.
Bring it on. Well, maybe that's not such a wise statement, given the track record of it's previous speaker. :)

Feedback, Continued

Someone suggested last week (through the survey/grapevine) I needed to be less ego-driven and more nurturing, less short-tempered. It was a response I kind of shrugged off; consider the source as someone who didn't want to hear me tell them what I felt they needed to do (one of those things a coach - and a person who is in charge - does).
I did get a little reinforcement of the perception the other afternoon: One of my athletes tries to come out once a week and works hard when at the track. They mentioned I got a little cranky during a workout the previous week. Of course, I was surprised at the honesty in bringing the issue to my attention. I quickly explained myself and told them I would make an honest effort to not be so short-tempered.
It was easy to figure out the root cause of the cranky moods. When I'm trying to run my own workout and organize/supervise...or, better yet, coach other runners at the same time I can get a little short, sweet and to the point. When you're training, it's all about me is the mantra; how much sleep do I need to recover, how much time do I need to set aside for this long run, this cross-training, this therapeutic modality (massage and stretching for those of you who hate those fancy words), and so on. It makes spouses, employers, and family members lose their even keel...especially when they are the ones who always have to adjust their (overcommitted) schedules to fit those of the runner.
In performance improvement, we are often told to ask the why question four or five times in order to get down to the real root cause of the problem.
Problem: Coach Mike is cranky.
Why is Mike cranky? Because he feels his workouts (at the same time as his athletes) are interrupted to deal with stuff.
Why are Mike's workouts interrupted? Because Mike is running his at the same time as his athletes.
Why is Mike running at the same time? Because Mike has a work project that keeps him from running earlier in the afternoon. Mike also has an athlete who runs workouts by himself and needs to control his pace a little better.
So, one issue meets one root cause, or two. Coach Mike's real job (which cannot be changed all that much) compresses his schedule. Coach Mike has an athlete who is running faster than he needs to be at this time of the year. Normally, I wouldn't gripe too much, save for the painfully obvious fact running hard during the heat of the Florida summer is going to do a number on your body. I could let this athlete drive himself into the ground, or I could suggest from the sidelines that he back off. When recommending an easing back on the throttle, I get the I only went (blank) seconds faster on this 400 than the last one response. Of course, then I have to mention another painfully obvious fact; multiply those (blank) seconds on that 400 by four and figure the difference per mile. Bouncing around with (blank x four)-second variations per mile of running is not the way to become a good runner.
I tend to set high (and often, unrealistically high) expectations for myself. I have always done this, not to mention projecting those high expectations onto those around me. In educational theory, it's a well-proven fact teachers who set and communicate high expectations for their students find the students will meet those expectations more often than not. So, while it may seem to the outsider I do not care to the persons who don't want to vault over the bar I set, the exact opposite is true. I care a great deal about every athlete who expresses the desire to improve and makes the honest, consistent and continuous effort to improve.
It's all I can ask from any athlete. It's all I'm entitled to ask from any athlete.

Another Year on the Job

...okay, so there are worse jobs. Actually, I saw something posted on the work area of one of the training division's officers that made my job seem pretty good in comparison. While not one of those Discovery Channel, Mike Rowe Dirty Jobs, definitely food for thought: I guess every one of Johnson & Johnson's rectal thermometers are tested and inspected to determine they are of the highest quality. How would you like to be the person who works in rectal thermometer quality control? Oh, I heard this song and dance before...and so have many coaches. Didn't Jack Daniels call these kind of athletes coach frustrators? Actually, I'm blessed to have motivated athletes - most of them are exceeding my expectations, almost all of the rest are meeting them.

I think everyone has at least one or two athletes who prefer not to (or choose not to) tap into those deep wells of desire, and there's only so much a coach can do for them. With those athletes, it's maintenance of the fun factor that's most important. They don't really want leadership, just a lack of bother. Today marks my fourth anniversary as a married man, and the beginning of my third year as a coach. Yep, that means the warranties on both counts have expired and I can't be returned to the manufacturer for replacement.

Both have been learning experiences. Both have humbled me and shown me (regularly) the limits of my knowledge, my patience...and the worth of continuous improvement. So, thank you, Suzanne, for not deciding to trade me in on two twenty-something guys. Thank you, ECRT, for not (as a whole) resorting to on-line coaching. This always happens to me, especially on the weekend. After a while a guy can get a little cranky about any phone call. I had a couple of beer mile participants comment about my flat affect on the phone, to which I responded, 'well, if you had as many (stoopid) phone calls as I've had, you would have a flat affect, too.' I always thought (otherwise rational) adults were capable of reading instructions and following directions. I've learned otherwise in the past year. However, I keep holding out hope...maybe they will once I do. Gee, you think? Last month of training and racing for the locals before the weather gets too awful...and they go into the Florida version of hibernation: Tuesday night music on the beach, Thursday night music downtown, Saturday or Sunday out on the water in the boat (for those who have boats). Since most of my folks are training with an eye toward a couple of triathlons in May/June, we've decided to not field a team in the local major race here. I haven't heard much disappointment, either...some of the group will run with other teams (and have in the past), others will probably run independent (or not at all). As for me, I won't be around to see the action. I get to go to Cincinnati. Sometimes I think the national organization decides to switch between cool cities and not-so-cool cities (in my humble opinion) for their national convention. My first convention was in New Orleans - cool city. The first convention I was slated to go to as a rep...Houston - not-so-cool city. First convention as a rep, Chicago - cool city. I hope, sincerely, that Cincinnati is a better city than I suspect. Come on, I like gumbo...deep dish (Chicago-style!) pizza...but I can't seem to get my stomach to jones for Skyline Chili. Oh, next year is in San Francisco, a city I've only been to in utero. That's going to be an expensive endeavor, but well worth the visit. I've got some running friends there who are dying to get together.
I might even get the missus to take a week for that one.

Nuts to You

Still, we are having what I sarcastically call Climate by Sybil. Our hopes are raised by 60-something degree tempeatures, bright sunshine and nearly-perfect conditions, only to be dashed by the onset of sub-freezing crud. I must admit I felt a great deal of sympathy for my athletes as they went through their paces last Tuesday night in the chill with the 20mph gusts kicking the daylights out of them on the front stretch; I did my workout a couple of hours earlier and had my behind kicked on the back stretch. And it was bad enough I lost count of where I was supposed to stop my repetition during the first part of my run.

Yesterday was even colder during the daytime. I resorted to dressing a little closer to an athlete and a little less like an analyst; wearing a technical fiber (tight) top under my dress shirt. I looked like a cross between Johnny Cash and Johnny Gray. But, why am I complaining? I live in Florida. Because I can?
This week has been enough to make my nut-sized brain feel more like a chestnut roasting o'er an open fire. I'm doing the number crunching on a information professional training adequacy survey, plus trying to make sense of the government contracting process. The number crunching isn't so bad, more mentally-draining than anything else. The contracting process, however...woo hoo hoo...that's the reason there are contract officers' representatives (COR), with requisite educational background and all, isn't there? If I can help my commanding officer to understand this stuff I probably deserve a job working as a COR...or a Purple Heart, or an early retirement.

My lunchtime habit of having french-fried potatoes is probably going to have to come to a screeching halt soon enough. I'm not gaining any weight that I can tell right now, and it's not like I can't fit into my size 32 jeans or slacks. Really, most of the weight I think I used to have as fat has probably been burned down to more lean muscle tissue. I can't tell the difference too much, including the times when I'm in the pool (I still have a hell of a time trying to float, but I'm slowly getting a little bit faster here and there...more strength...and so on...). However, I've got to drop a couple of pounds so I don't have to carry them on the bicycle with me this summer...and the only thing I can remotely think to sacrifice (something inherently unhealthy I eat on a regular basis) are french fries.
Man, is that going to suck. Hard. But I guess that's part and parcel with wanting to be an athlete. Nobody who wants to achieve anything in athletics ever achieves it without a little bit of self-sacrifice.

Someone REALLY Needs A Mental Health Day

Yes, I've seen that look before. Lately, I see a lot of it when my wife comes through the door. Most of the time she can get past a tough day (or several tough days) at work by going out for a run, taking the d-a-w-g for a walk, or slurping on a few cool beverages in the evening. However, yesterday's look took the cake. While she was looking forward to getting out to the beach for a little while last night, she was going to settle for a walk, instead. At first, I was wondering why a walk and not a run. However, the meterological conditions were, as some would say, gawd-awful.
It's difficult, if not impossible, to train hard in triple-digit heat indices. Well, you can train indoors on the treadmill, the spinning bicycle, the elliptical trainer, or hit the swimming pool. Depending on the air conditioning capability in the place where you're at, even a tough workout can be almost tolerable. However, lots of (average) folks don't have access to pools, workout studios, or indoor tracks (memo to self: build an indoor track facility when you hit the lottery.). That tends to turn a planned six-miler into a four-miler, or a sprightly four-miler into a more relaxed-pace (George says, '...this is relaxed pace!?') four-miler, with a short walk at the end.

The saving grace of all this is the fact I have all these training options. Getting back into the pool after weeks away from it has been wonderful. I'm almost back to the fitness level I was before I broke the arm; not as fast in the water, but I think the mechanics are more relaxed. Give or take a couple of seconds, my reps in the pool have not changed for the worse from early June. While swimming might not transfer much to running, it helps me to learn to control my breathing when at speed...if you can come up on another competitor without them hearing your heavy breathing, you just might be able to put a stride or two on them before they can react.

If Thomas Paine were alive today, writing a pamphlet on training in Florida in the late summer, he would begin it: '...these are the times that fry men's soles...' He could still entitle it The Crisis if he wanted. He could talk about the conflict between the conscious and the subconscious mind; it's a little over five weeks until the first late-summer/early-autumn 5,000-meter road race...and the panicky state of affairs that the very competitive local runners may be feeling. Hell, I'm feeling it, and it's only a stepping-stone race toward my main races; a half-marathon in October and a marathon in December. I've also planned a 10-kilometer road race in early November, but...

I haven't run any chunk of distance beyond 400 meters at near race pace for, oh, about two months to be exact. I did some 400s a couple of weeks ago at 95-second pace, but that was a slow ramp-up from the first ones, which were closer to 110. However, we will see how things go tonight. The plan is 8x400 at 95-97sec pace, with 100m walk breaks in between. This will be the first test of fitness. I might tell everyone to extend the 100 to a little closer to 150. We'll see.

Maybe I'm thinking too much right now. Maybe it's me who needs the mental health day.