Lace Up Those Shoes, Kiddies

I don't get the phone calls as often as I used to.

I could guarantee at least half-a-dozen phone calls between February and May from the parents - or grandparents - of potential youth running prodigies.  And the phone message, give or take a few words, always sounded like: 'I found your name on the (blank) web site, and I see that you do track workouts on (day of week).  My (child) runs for (coach) at (school), but I want to help them improve at the (race distance).  Please call me back with more details about your program.'

So, I'd call back and graciously decline their offer to potentially coach the 'next great American runner.' Lake Wobegon syndrome ("...all the children are above-average") notwithstanding.  To me, youth coaching is a trip to the dark side of the Freudian pleasure-pain calculus.  Think Clarence Thomas at a confirmation hearing.  Bill Clinton defining 'is' during a deposition.  Lance Armstrong in an interview with Oprah Winfrey.

My (nearly) hard/fast guideline is that I will not coach anyone younger than 16.  If the kid can't drive themself to the track, I want no part of working with them.  And if they already have a coach, well, I'm not going to take another guy's/gal's kneecaps out, just to have another young athlete.  I've had family members recruit me within earshot of the other coach (a personal friend).  We had a good laugh over that one after the parents were gone.  The scariest thing about running, especially when youth are involved, is that a family member can screw up more than one person's career at a time.

Kids should be encouraged to take up running as sport.  It's one of those activities which needs little more than a place and decent shoes.  The list below contains most of the Road Runners Club of America guidelines for youth running, based on developmental principles of training and racing for young distance runners written by Larry Greene, Ph.D. and Russ Pate, Ph.D.

My sport is your sport's punishment.  Every time I've seen youth baseball players do sprints or laps around the field for screwing up a double play I want to shriek in horror.  First and foremost, running should be fun.

If it ain't broke, don't fix it; if it looks really broke, make very small adjustments.  Once upon a time, a family member made a wise-crack about my run form (back when I played baseball); they said I appeared to have been impaled by a broomstick.  Strangely enough, my father recalled this observation during the height of my (healthy) racing career.  A proper (erect) form and reasonable stride length, taught early on, will eliminate bad habits and potential injuries later.  There are other little things which can be discouraged, like excess arm movement, twisting the upper body, or over-striding.

You might not be the best, but you can be a good one.  Strangely enough, the over-emphasis on awards, trophies and personal accomplishments also seem to scare away many adult runners.  The goal is to develop the habit of life-long activity and participation; middle school, high school and (some) college competition can/will come soon enough.  Personally, if not for a college coach who encouraged me to "just go out and have fun," I might not have even considered racing.

We're all individuals, exactly the same as the next person.  In the same way that one marathon training program - or race distance, come to think of it - is not the best fit for every runner (differences in time to train, time to recover, resiliency), it's important for adults and coaches to allow for different abilities and physical maturity levels within the group.  Around age 12-to-14 training distances and durations can be slowly increased, leading to systematic and competitive training.  I was questioned the other weekend about the optimal training volume for 5K racing, at which point the father of a young man who was working out with the group looked at me in a shocked manner.  I then had to remind him my answers and guidance focuses more toward adult runners, and that in the case of his son I would have to err on the side of slightly less intensity and duration.

I am thankful that running is the most egalitarian of sports:  Simple persistence and patience can turn any individual into a more-healthy, more-active, and more-engaged person.  As a well-known running writer has often said, 'there is no limit where running can take you.'

Fun With A Capital "F"

"'Coach,' can you tell us some tips how to run today?"

The question was new for a number of reasons:  First, it was not coming from an athlete I had advised in the past.  Second, it was not coming from an adult athlete.  Lastly it was coming from my grandchildren.

That's right.  The grandchildren.  Both the six-year-old and the three-year-old...and their parents...address me as 'Coach,' but that's a story for another sitting.

I smiled and calmly gave them the advice of ultrarunning legend Walt Stack ("start slow, then taper off"). Their "Grammy," however, rarely listens to the totality of my coaching.  She thought I told them to start slowly and pick up the pace near the end.  However, since it was the kids' second-ever fun run the emphasis was on fun with a capital "F."

Some nine minutes later I could tell they had fun, because it was the first time I got to see them run.  If not for five days of flu-like symptoms I probably would have run along with one of them.

"Why aren't there more fun runs and kid-focused events?"  Suzanne asked.  I stopped my e-mail reading. She had opened up her laptop to search through running club event calendars and was busily writing event dates down.

I took a deep breath, then shared my own perceptions: "First of all you have to follow the money.  Who put on today's event?  What expense did they put into it? And, most of all, what will they get out of it?"

Some cities or running clubs are more kid-friendly or family-friendly when it comes to events and such.  Others give little more than a wink and a nod.  It probably has more to do with a club's or sponsor's ability to take the pulse of the surrounding community and decide to do the greatest good for the largest constituency.

I pointedly reminded my wife that kids are not (necessarily) primary consumers.  While their interests might influence parents to a small degree, it is the parent or adult family member who has the real purchasing power.  While the child might think I'm the coolest for giving them a trinket it's their parent or responsible adult family member I want to bring their money through my doorway.

If the culture which surrounds a club/race is more beer-drinking and adult-flavored socializing than family-oriented - and there are many clubs/events which focus more on the social than the athletic - it is a strong possibility families are not going to bring their kids to runs.  I can think of a handful of popular local run events to which I would never, ever take my grandchildren. If they're going to see adults drink beer it's going to be family members acting in a responsible manner.

I have a friend who works with youth athletes, mainly track, and when I've received a phone inquiry from a parent I've sent the parent his general direction.  In spite of the fact I've been background-checked into the boards so many times I wear hockey pads to my real job, USA Track and Field adds insult to injury and ask for youth coaches to endure one more round of hoop-jumping.  With the amount of bureaucracy above and beyond what the typical club-level coach endures (being a former bureaucrat I know useless bureaucracy when I see it), I decided to not advise or coach any runners under the age of 16.  Yes, even the older youth athlete still has the occasional "little league" parent for a year or few - the college freshman chaperoned by either mother or sibling, the grandparent who asks for your advice within earshot of the runners' present coach - but in most cases the athlete will make decisions for themselves.

I tip my hat in the general direction of the men and women who give of their time and energies to make running a sport which is more than a punishment for ball sports athletes.  And I hope my grandchildren get the chance eventually to see "Coach" at a performance level a little more close to his old self...perhaps they'll see a person who just so happens to like running for its own reward.

Hubris, Humble Pie, and Just Desserts

A little over a year ago, Pat Williams, the president of the Orlando Magic, joined a group of state representatives and board members of the Road Runners Club of America for a luncheon meeting. One of the major takeaways from that luncheon speech I got was to read something on a daily basis. "What kind of reading?" said Williams. He was not the slightest bit concerned with the material as long as it was something we enjoyed. My wife, Suzanne, has told me she can learn something, even from a science fiction story. I, on the other hand, prefer to pick up a book which has something directly to do with what I want to learn. Sometimes you find when you close the book at the end you learned something far different than your initial expectations.

My most recent completed books on the Spanish Civil War and the life of John Belushi varied in the "surprise" factor. I knew little about the struggle which served as the "warm-up" to World War II, and quite a bit about the man I like to call the "real Last Samurai."

This week, I started in on the autobiography by foodie/chef/traveler/party animal Anthony Bourdain, "Kitchen Confidential." I was drawn to Bourdain by his snarky commentaries from his Travel Channel program, "No Reservations," but couldn't justify the read sooner because I really wanted to learn something else. Silly me. I'm three chapters into the book and love it. Bourdain describes his his second summer in New England's restaurant business in the same way I have entered my first workout with a new training group; naive as hell.

More often than not, hubris at the beginning of the workout usually is the appetizer for a full-course meal of humble pie, crow and just desserts. With a to-go bag.

Open your mouth to say how simple a workout is? Did that after a two-mile road loop around the perimeter of the U. Tampa campus during the early spring of my junior year. I was hanging tough at the back of the pack; found out minutes later from the team captain the loop was only a warm-up. Three or four 1200-meter repeats later (I cannot recall exactly how many; it might have been closer to five.) my attitude was much more humble. When I came back the next day ready to work, truly ready, it was the first step on a long road to being a runner.

We had people who you would never thought would stick it out; we had (seemingly-)motivated people slip and slide away. I still have a photo on the wall of my team from the autumn of 2000; a dude named Greg came out to one workout, received a uniform, and stood in the team photo. After that workout, Greg was never seen or heard from again. As small as that campus was it would have been an amazing feat if he had not been seen by any of the dozen guys...or the dozen girls, for that matter.

Three years later, I "ordered" the same "hubris with a side order of suffering" during a late-November evening workout of repeats on a grass loop behind a football stadium. You would think human beings are smart enough to not make the same kind of mistake twice.

Well, it wasn't the same kind of mistake; more like the same mistake, just later in the workout.

When a coach talks about perceived effort in a workout, they usually mean it's the athlete's perception. The hardest lesson to teach, especially to the new athlete, is that their "70-percent effort," for example, may not be the same speed as someone else's "70-percent effort." The second hardest lesson to teach is to preserve their energy until they are certain the workout is soon to be concluded. Run like the second coming of Prefontaine for two sets and suck wind in the third? If I had a dollar for every athlete who's done that, I'd retire wealthy.

So, if you're going to your first training session with a group, take the time to ask the group leader or coach about what to expect. Most will be good enough to communicate to you if a cautious approach is necessary for the first few workout sessions.

And make certain to take a "to-go bag."

The Dog - Best Friend, Best Training Partner

My workday routine - once I get into the office - includes two activities which my co-workers and supervisor have seen fit not to infringe upon or drastically modify. First of all, I make certain the coffee is brewed - since my supervisor and several co-workers also drink coffee that's probably the reason I'm not hindered.

The second habit includes reading my favorite comic strips. One strip I enjoy a great deal is "Frazz," drawn by Jef Mallett. The main character, Edwin "Frazz" Frazier, looks like a grown-up version of "Calvin" from Bill Watterston's "Calvin and Hobbes" strip. Frazz loves a teacher, works at a school, runs, bicycles, swims, writes songs... It's a fairly neat parallel of (my) life and Mallet's art.

Not long after I started to follow the strip, Mallet had a week of strips which involved Frazz's girlfriend's dog, "Mario," a rescue greyhound. (And to think the comic strip couldn't get any better...) The most memorable conversation that week had to do with the speed of greyhounds versus human beings. A youngster from the school asked if humans were faster than greyhounds. Frazz replies greyhounds are faster than humans, but humans can run a marathon faster than a greyhound. The child says, "so greyhounds are also smarter than humans." "One would consider the baggie a clue," laments Frazz.

I've occasionally laud my greyhound, Rubin, in blog posts for teaching me the benefits of rest and habit. But, as time has progressed, I cannot help but consider the dog - in the vast majority of cases - to be not only man's best friend, but potentially, man's best training partner.

Several coaches have rhapsodized about training "accountability groups" containing at least three members. The natural reason for having three persons in a training group, naturally, is so the individual athlete need never train alone, except for those rare occasions. Think about it - the odds of having one training partner fall ill, or their family member fall ill, or be on travel, sudden change of work schedule, and so forth - is usually pretty good. But, the chances of having EVERY other training partner in the group suffer from such obstacles grows more unlikely. There is at least one day a week where I feel a little beat up, or I need to be in at work a little more early, etc. So I might try to talk myself out of 25-and-50 workout opportunities a year, which means a one-in-seven or a two-in-seven chance of leaving a partner in a lurch. Then, what are the chances of both other people ill, beat-up, constrained? It's probably right around two-in-one-hundred.

You statisticians or mathematicians out there, please feel free to jump in.

Dogs, on the other hand, don't HAVE to worry about work. To Rubin, every day is Saturday. He's ALWAYS up for a walk, even if the weather is stormy. He might not want to go outside (to do his business) in the pouring rain, but he'll go if I pull on my rain gear.

So, if you've got a dog who likes to run and a route which is amenable to running together, the odds are very high you've got a willing training partner.

Not every breed, however, is built to deal with long-distance running. My mother's German Shorthaired Pointer, Bogie, taught me this lesson almost two decades ago. I had driven down to her home in Jupiter Farms, FL, for a visit. One afternoon, I told her I was going out for a run. She suggested taking Bogie along as company, not suspecting:

First, I didn't know the neighborhood as well as we initially thought.
Second, how far I was capable of running before realizing point number one, and...
Third, how lost I could get myself because of points number one and number two.

Some 90 minutes and nine miles later (as I learned while driving the next day) Bogie and I returned home to a very worried mother-slash-"dog mama." Bogie immediately shoved his face into a bowl of cool water, I grabbed a very large glass of iced tea. He lay down on his bedding in the corner of the living room; I put my legs up in the recliner while enduring the maternal inquisition. The next day, the question, 'Bogie? Want to go for a walk?' was met by a tucked-tail slink out of the kitchen back to the living room.

Greyhounds, I learned, are pretty well good to go where walks and warm/cool-down efforts are concerned. Otherwise they prefer to play the "I'm retired" card for distances longer than a quarter-mile. There's also a terrier or two I've encountered who, if you could control their lateral direction, would probably keep most distance runners on their toes for an extended period of time. I've met herding and working breeds who absolutely love to run and seem to go forever. My friend, Charley, has a couple of Australian Shepherd-types who think nothing in life is greater than to go out running on trail with the local hash kennel. The only problem, naturally, is once the run is over...especially this particular kennel. It's not a proper trail without a water crossing. "The wet dog is the lovingest," was the final line of a poem by Ogden Nash.

Truer words were never inscribed on paper.

When it comes to race day, however, that's where the lines are not only drawn, but the ugliest darned fault lines develop. The race director, especially for a Road Runners Club of America-affiliated club, is constrained by the insurance guidelines which keep Fido from pawing the starting line next to their owner. Then, you have the "keep your dog leashed" crowd, the "my dog is well-behaved" crowd, and the "how dare you risk hurting your dog by making them run in this heat" crowd. Nobody wins; everybody goes home grumpy.

Last spring, a young lady asked if her dog could participate in one of the area's major run events. She said the dog had been her training partner to that point in time, and she figured it would be fun for them both to participate in her first race. I knew the RRCA insurance constraints and the risks which could happen in the pack. However, being "only" a guy who knew a few things about a few things, I suggested she contact the race director so she could get the (bad) news from him directly. I didn't hear any follow-up, but she did thank me for my gracious response.

While not every runner appreciates the presence of a canine on their morning (or afternoon) run, it can be said that nearly every canine appreciates the chance to be in the presence of a runner. And having that always-joyful, never-complaining, almost-always-available running partner can even help us get that first step out the door on the days when we really don't feel like it.

Peripatetically-Pleasing Publications

Today I took a day off work and spent a couple of hours at my local auto dealership. "What book to take with me?" I asked myself, walking out the door.

Come on. I'm not going to sit and watch cable television news channels. I stood transfixed in front of my living room bookshelves; it's not good for a September-born guy to be forced into choice...especially not with 300-plus titles stacked in the living room alone, and definitely not when a five-minute delay can mean the difference between sitting for two hours...or for three hours...in a lounge drinking coffee and eating doughnuts. In the case of this guy, less time is always better.

I chose a book I hadn't read in probably six years.

It was a tight spot which made me think, while traveling to Toyota Town, of another triad of tomes to tranquilize the (temporarily terrifying) tendency to tarry in tranquility near the tube:

Running and Being - Dr. George Sheehan
The late cardiologist and unofficially-but-near-universally-proclaimed philosopher-king of running wrote this book in the late 1970s, and many of his observations in this book were printed (often in toto) in Runners' World magazine. Like most folks who have the temerity to risk talking smack about Steve Prefontaine, reviewing a book like this - especially in the negative - is only going to get you in deep trouble. Reading Sheehan, especially for the young, inexperienced (in life) runner, is like reading the Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard or the Brazilian liberation educator Paulo Freire. You aren't going to read great portions of this book, not unless you didn't want to learn anything. I've borrowed portions (the bag) for blog posts, as well as for biomechanical analyses (neuromas) to pass to my athletes.

This book goes best with (at least!) one pot of good coffee.

Ultramarathon Man - Dean Karnazes
I almost ran over Dean Karnazes in the lobby of the Hyatt Fisherman's Wharf during the Road Runners Club of America convention two years ago. I was running to the ballroom to have lunch with my wife; he was running to the bathroom before his lunch presentation in the ballroom. Suffice it to say I am pleased we didn't make contact. Karnazes is probably a solid three inches shorter than I and built like a...well, you've all heard the analogies.

He's also an entertaining speaker and a very good writer. Suzanne raved about him on the trip home; the only presenter other than Frank Shorter she mentioned by name. And when an avowed non-fanatical runner like my wife mentions someone - by name - it truly means something. What strikes me about Karnazes' first work is not so much the screenplay-like way he chronicles his relationship with his family, his painful beginning in ultramarathon (I can smell the rotten cantaloupe!), and his quest to stretch the limits of human endurance...blended in with cell phone ordered pizza delivery, minibuses filled with goldfish crackers, and banana bread. Trust me; you'll never look at banana bread in the same way after this book. Some of my friends have read his follow-up works and proclaimed them as a little less entertaining than the first, but I've already subscribed to the "sequel rarely meets the first work" mindset. This work is well worth acquiring. I may change my mind after I read his 50 marathons/50 states/50 days chronicle, though.

This book goes best with (at least) one cup of Starbucks and a slice of cherry cheesecake.

Every Second Counts - Lance Armstrong (and Sally Jenkins)
The Greek philosopher Heraclitus is reported to have said, "you cannot step into the same river twice." And Armstrong (Jenkins) appears to have learned this over the course of the four years covered in book number two. Whether it's Armstrong who read about Dithyrambos - "he who walks through the second door" - or Jenkins saw the parallel, it's hard to say. Considering we are talking about a guy who's repeated a few things (Tour de France victories, relationships, lawsuits) more than once in his time, I'm certain he even appreciated the analogy.

Every Second Counts is a fitting follow-up to It's Not About The Bike, which talked much about what got Lance to the first yellow jersey in 1999. This time, however, we do get to see the rough edges and shortcomings. Armstrong long has considered himself - unlike very many of his yellow wristband-wearing fans - no saint. He provides an honest, almost sensitive assessment of life as man, father, athlete, survivor, businessman, and icon, things which definitely affected his marriage to Kristin. As of late, much has been made in the press and several recent books about doping...and Lance's way of dealing with sources who allege his use.

I read Every Second Counts around the same time as Brad Kearns' fawning How Lance Does It, Floyd Landis' Positively False: How I Won The Tour De France, and David Walsh's From Lance to Landis. The only title which still sits on my bookshelf of the previous three is Walsh. If I had only read It's Not About The Bike I think I would have a negative opinion of the seven-time champion. I have doubts about whether he was completely clean, but it's only a sliver. Yes, a Kierkegaardian one.

This book goes best with a tall, cold Shiner Bock.

Grab Some (Yur)Buds?

Rare is the moment I laud the use of headphones while running. They might be great for staving off boredom during treadmill workouts at the gym, but I do not like them - not one bit - on the ears of the athletes I train. Call me a kill-joy. Call me old-school. But I'm the coach; it's my prerogative to say what I do and do not like.

I don't like my athletes wearing headphones on the track because they cannot hear what I need to tell them about the specifics of their workout, their form or their effort. The last time I recall that particular form of feedback was called "coaching." I don't like my athletes wearing headphones during races because they cannot react to anything around them. Headphone-wearing runners turn into to the pace blaring into their ears rather than to the pace of the pack of runners beside (or in front of them). The last time I recall that was called "racing."

Working with the Road Runners Club of America for a little over five years, I learned the litany of safety reasons which clubs were told about the potential dangers of headphone use. Add to the "tune in, turn on, and lock in the pace" mentality of most headphone wearers at races the sometimes benign, sometimes life-threating approach of racing wheelchairs and strollers, faster runners, and intruding bicycles or other motor vehicles. You can end up with something as inconvenient as a trip-and-fall or as permanent as death.

And really, it's not the headphones which are evil. It's the way we tend to use them.

Several years ago I was at a small neighborhood 5K race; while standing on the corner cheering for my wife and several of my friends I saw a runner turn the corner and approach the third mile. She was running on the right-hand side of the road (not following the tangent, but that's another story altogether); I was standing on the sidewalk on the left. I could clearly hear the blaring from her MP3 player earbuds, at a distance of approximately 10 meters away. That meant she had to have the volume up at eardrum-bleeding, "Spinal Tap"-like volume.

Last year, I saw a product at the Rock n' Roll/Mardi Gras Marathon expo which drew my attention, especially in light of the RRCA work. At the time I was trying to write a white paper on headphone use, so the idea of a company like Competitor Group putting on an event with bands at every mile, yet selling headphones at the expo, seemed a little incongruous. I told the expo booth rep for Yurbuds who I represented and expressed my gentle skepticism about the product. He kindly provided me some print information and the website address so I could draw my own conclusions. However, I didn't want to try the product.

When I planned my visit this year I told my wife I would look closer at the Yurbuds product, especially after they developed an Ironman-branded version of the headphone adapter. If you have a product which gets to be Ironman-branded, you've pretty much made the big time...well, the chance of your product getting more exposure is very good.

The rep fitted me for a pair of the Ironman-branded Yurbuds, which are designed both to funnel the output of your music player, or computer, or whatever device has a 1/4-inch headphone jack into your ears...and allow ambient noise from your immediate surroundings to be heard. He then told me to let him know when I could hear the music and the ambient room noise. He showed me where the volume was set on his iPod; I could hear AC/DC's "Highway to Hell" comfortably at a volume level somewhere around the mid-point. I could also have a normal-volumed conversation with the rep. While sold on the Yurbuds, I did worry if I had a placebo effect; what would happen back home in my neighborhood?

I put the Yurbuds to the test last Saturday while my wife and I were at the gym. Rather than watch Anthony Bourdain's "No Reservations" I decided to talk to her in the middle of my 60-minute elliptical trainer workout. I asked, 'is there something which sounds different about this conversation to you?' She then realized she was not shouting, nor was I. Even this morning, during the walk from the gym back home, I could hear the singing of the neighborhood's mockingbirds, as well as John Mayer. You might not particularly care for my taste in music, but I think you get the picture.

It doesn't mean everyone should pay 20-to-50 dollars for a set of headphone adapters - they're comfortable, they keep the phones stable in the ear during strenuous activity - but if it helps folks turn their volume down on their MP3 player at races, without killing the user's listening experience, then I'm all for it...as long as they're not dawdling in front of my training group, in lane one on the track, or directly in front of me on race day.

The Will To Prepare

Any major marathon, especially one like any of Competitor Group's Rock n' Roll series, has no lack of interesting stories and "did I just see?" moments. I'm lucky; as an average guy who has friends in high places, the perspective is a little different than the average race participant; I'm grateful to have friends who spread the tent wider when I'm in the mood to do a little bit of work. And when I'm injured, I'd rather be doing something constructive. Last time I got seriously "injured" was not long after I started doing triathlon, decided to tempt gravity one Sunday morning, and ended up writing blog posts like the one-armed bandit I envisioned myself to be for that six-week period of time.

An injured, rehabilitating runner often has two plans of action. The first and least effective plan is to go into isolation. It's less painful to avoid answering the "what happened?" and "how long will you be that way?" questions, but eventually we need to get out among those going "shanks' mare." I've said many times "running hurts; not running hurts more," it's easier to feel better while we are getting better by giving back to the community of which we are a part.

We were walking through the race expo at the New Orleans Convention Center to get my race staff credentials on Friday afternoon; I saw a slender gentleman with salt and pepper hair. I had one of those Darth Vader moments: 'a presence I haven't felt since...' Ah, but there are plenty of people in this life who look like someone else, so I shrugged it off. I almost said something to Suzanne, my wife; she probably would have told me to go catch him...trouble is he knows her better than he knows me. You see, Suzanne decided to have one last beer at the bar in the Hyatt in San Francisco after the RRCA convention two years ago. Frank Shorter was the banquet speaker that evening, and was holding court in the bar. He called out to Suzanne as she walked in, something along the lines of "where's your husband? Why didn't he come down?" Okay, I was tired of hanging out in my "misplaced college professor" attire.

Next morning, while walking into the staff hospitality area, I realize the gentleman I thought was Frank Shorter actually was. He was chatting with the elite and guest runners; he probably would have recognized my wife if she had been there. Again, like the last time I was close enough to say hello, I decided to not be a fawning fan. Many folks love to have those photo moments - I'm not one of them, for a couple of reasons. The first one is that it seems so contrived. I would much rather have sat with Shorter over a couple of beers and let him talk about Munich and "Pre" and how good we have it now in the highly-democratic era of participatory running, where all you have to do is have desire, the entry fee - and in some cases, a little luck - to get into most major races. The second one is I rarely prepare for the possibility. Travel light, travel fast; that's the code under which I live. Sea stories are more portable than scrimshaw.

Later on that afternoon, once the temperature had climbed from the mid-40s at 7 in the morning to somewhere closer to the mid-60s...and maybe a little higher, I marveled at the back-of-the-pack marathoners as they finished. All right, at least they made it to the starting line healthy and got to have their finish line moment underneath the oak trees in City Park. But I saw so many of them who looked like they prepared for a much colder day on the course. There were guys in sweats. There were guys in wind pants and warm-up pants. There were more ladies in CW-X tights than at which a person could shake a stick. And long-sleeved tops. And music headphones. At a Rock n' Roll series event. With bands at every mile...and impromptu entertainment added.

I talked with my wife and my athletes during the week before the race and recommended a few clothing items for race day. I even bought my wife a pair of arm-warmers at the expo, in the hope she would wear them instead of a long-sleeved top...which she did. She bought herself a pair of comfortable padded socks on the recommendation of her girlfriend, another one of my athletes, whose claim to fame is finishing the infamous 2007 Chicago Heat Wave, er, Marathon, before Carey Pinkowski finally shut the course down.

But, when I stood by and listened to some of the questions which were asked to the information desk volunteers at the expo, I couldn't help but wonder whether race participants are being spoon-fed and don't know how to prepare themselves for a race.

The Internet puts our location information out (on course) for our family to see where we are, not to mention weather forecasts for five or more days in advance, places where we can park without getting ticketed or towed, dates, times and locations for where we can pick up the information, which we also can download from parts of the same web page. We have mapping programs which provide elevation profiles we can download to our GPS units. And yet, we really prefer someone else to tell us exactly how to prepare and what to do.

Three-time Boston Marathon "bridesmaid" Juma Ikangaa said: "The will to win means nothing without the will to prepare." Maybe we don't want to find out how good we are? Is this so we can lay the responsibility for our shortcomings at someone else's feet? I'm not certain. Once again, as part of the democratic society we enjoy as runners, we are also saddled with the responsibility to use the freedom to run wisely. For me, running wisely is running prepared for the conditions, the natural and human terrain, and within our limitations.

After seeing many of those finishers, and hearing many of those questions, I cannot wait to get back into running again.

Thee, Me, And 15,000 Of Our Closest Friends

"I love being married. It's so great to find that one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your life." - Rita Rudner, comedienne

I talk much about my wife Suzanne because she is an integral part of my life as coach, as athlete, & as (hack) writer. She's taught me a great deal about myself as well as the world around me. I don't always agree with her; she persists in seemingly-innocuous habits which drive me up the wall, but I would be in a dull, dreary world of funky socks & take-out Chinese if not for her.

When I proposed to her in December 2003, I knew I wanted the socially-accepted & state-sanctioned binding of us together as husband-&-wife to be simple, meaningful, & most especially, in the presence of people we loved most. If you heard me recommend April Fool's Day 2004 as the tentative date for the wedding, I'm certain you would have thought otherwise...but I suggested it mainly for the reason neither one of us would forget the date, & we could have a few laughs in the process. However, Suzanne's cool head prevailed & I moved the date one day to the right, April 2nd.

Okay, we have a date. Now we need to figure out who to invite.

As this would be the second time into the breach for us both, we agreed & longed for minimum drama. Our closest friends, no more than twenty, would be invited; the rest will have to grin & bear it. Unfortunately, the list kept mushrooming. Isn't that like every darn fungus with which you get to deal?

We kept pruning the list back: Okay, only my closest mate from the internship & his wife. My running coach & his wife. My friend George (who took me to my first Crescent City Classic) & his girlfriend (now wife) Dianne. Still, we couldn't get down to twenty. Not only was money an issue, but the running community here in Pensacola is so closely-knit it was impossible to leave some off the guest list.

Finally, in one of those "bolt from the blue" moments, I asked Suzanne: 'what if we just go down to the courthouse & have a simple civil ceremony, then have our wedding reception at Tad Gormley Stadium in City Park, right after we run Crescent City? The Capt'n Fun Runners from Pensacola will all be there; there will be food & a keg, not to mention the post-race feed, & we can always ask Glenn (also known as the "Capt'n") if he'll hold space for a big ice chest of champagne & a ton of beads. They'll understand we're trying to keep this simple & inexpensive, since we're planning to do the Classic.'

The Classic was not my first trip to New Orleans, but rather the first trip in my "reconstructed" life as a working professional. The entire weekend - Friday night's first-ever encounter with crawfish at Acme Oyster Bar, the race on Saturday, closing down the post-race party by limboing on the grass, up to the mildly-boozy little-bit-beyond-hangover breakfast at Camellia Grill in Carrollton before the long drive back to Pensacola - all this left an indelible mark on me. I raved about the experience - from claw-to-coffee - to Suzanne the next night; she had out-of-town business to accomplish & couldn't change her schedule. So, I knew my second Classic - Suzanne's first - would be something memorable. It's always great to introduce a tradition to a friend.

So, every Friday, from Christmas to Good Friday, we would walk across the street to the market across from our little apartment. We'd get a six-pack of Abita & a bottle of champagne. The Abita went into the fridge - for a little while. The champagne was tucked away into a large ice chest. I think we had at least a dozen bottles by the time we rolled into the Chateau Sonesta on Good Friday. Add to that stash enough beads to encourage the entire French Quarter to doff their tops, & we knew we were ready to go.

The race experience was unquestionably memorable. Suzanne & I spent the better part of the post-race in matching aloha shirts, handing out beads & cups of bubbly to anyone who came close to the Capt'n Fun Runners' encampment...it's never been difficult to find it; look for the toucan flags.

Our local running friends sometimes still talk about the wedding reception at the Classic, with fondness. We've told the "How To Hold An Intimate Wedding Reception With 15 Thousand Of Your Closest Friends" story to friends & acquaintances around the country, usually during a group runs at a Road Runners Club of America convention, or while hanging out after a road race. The married running couples find it cute. The unmarried running couples file it for future reference.

Every couple has places, times, & songs which are iconic in their relationship. For Suzanne & me, there's nothing like the warm sunlight of a New Orleans morning - especially during the post-race party at the Crescent City Classic - to remind us how blessed we are to be in love with someone who is passionate about running...and life.

Sock It To Me - Where Should I Use Compression Wear?

"...don't criticize what you can't understand..." - "The Times, They Are A-Changin'" - Bob Dylan (1964)

I am a late adopter. I hold a particularly wary attitude toward the newest, brightest, & latest. It's not that I prefer to be the grouchy curmudgeon who "just won't get with the program." More often than not I'm the guy who calmly stares at the smoldering ruin of the next "greatest thing since the invention of sliced bread" & like the young man in Rudyard Kipling's "If," 'stoops to build them using worn-out tools.' When it comes to technology I wait for the second model year, the 2.0, the next version. That second year is always a plus; the (inevitable) "bugs" from the initial release have been worked out & the degree of sticker shock is often much lower and less painful.

I first saw compression stockings, sleeves & hosiery during my initial fling with triathlon. I couldn't wrap my head around the idea of people running 13.1 miles in the 90-degree heat of Panama City, FL, in black knee-length stockings immediately after riding 56 miles, immediately after swimming 2215 yards. I didn't know anybody who could explain the benefits; none of my closest (Ironman) triathlon-participating friends wore the stockings (but, after reading the research, I'm wondering whether I needlessly endured post-race trauma). Therefore, I made the conscious decision to speak neither well nor ill of wearer or garment until I had ample opportunity to try them out for myself.

Thank you, Road Runners Club of America. Thank you, Sigvaris. The Sigvaris/RRCA study was simple enough: Receive a pair of compression socks, run a 10k, wear the socks as part of the recovery protocol, write down your findings. In return I'd receive a second pair of compression socks.

Amazingly enough, as bad as I felt after the 10K (a week after Ironman 70.3 New Orleans), my legs did not feel all the worse for wear while I wore the socks. I now wear the socks during Sunday afternoons sitting around the house, or under a pair of jeans or slacks if I go out on Sunday. Sorry, I draw the line at tackiness during recovery, so no long socks with shorts (unless a pair of German "lederhosen" & I'm going to beer fest) in public. In fact, with a couple of weeks left in my training cycle for a target half-marathon, I've pulled the socks out for workplace wear. Everything feels good this afternoon.

My gosh, I've become my grandfather.

But the jury is still out - at best inconclusive - on running in compression stockings. One of my athletes, a 28 year-old male, started to wear his 2XU calf compression sleeves at track workouts. Again, the "speak neither well nor ill" tactic works best when one wears the "Coach" hat. If they work for Allan, then so be it. It appears that many runners who wear compression sleeves or socks while running feel more comfortable with them on, even if there are few notable benefits during the run.

But researchers in Europe & the US have seen the benefits of compression clothing once they are worn during recovery. The compressive wear decreased the amount of exercise-induced muscle damage, which probably continues during the immediate post-exercise period. Garment wearers were less likely to complain of perceived muscle soreness, & there was less incidence of creatine kinase in the blood (a marker of muscle damage) during the 48-hour period following a run. While there was only one study which alluded to improved run performance with compression socks, the majority of studies did find an improvement in follow-on run performance after recovering with the socks.

So, I've come to see the light about compression wear, but it's going to take a little bit of time before I'm brave enough to be seen in public in a pair of compression socks. Perhaps they won't be so easily noticed if I wear them with a pair of long tights instead of shorts.

Time For A Few Small Repairs

"...days go by, I'm hypnotized, I'm walking on a wire; I close my eyes & fly out of my mind..." - "Sunny Came Home" (Shawn Colvin, 1996)

The thought didn't cross my mind until my last dental appointment. The dental hygienist who works on my mouth has done so for the past two and-a-half-years. She knows a great deal about me, seen me come in with my shoulder & arm in a sling, limping, or tired after a race. She knows me well, & the sudden decline in my dental health told her things she did not like.

"There are a couple of bad spots back there, & it's starting to look like it was during one of your first visits." She gently tapped on a couple of my molars and asked, "have you had any pain in these areas?"

I told her there wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but that my sinuses had been acting up all summer; it seemed like every time I hit the pool for a workout I'd end up hacking for two to three days. She didn't say much but provided a topical treatment to the area, scheduled me for a follow-up visit in two weeks, & suggested a few small changes to my care plan: Hydration, mouth rinsing, a different toothbrush, to name a few.

But, as always, that was only the tip of the proverbial iceberg. Waking up to a mild case of otitis externa (swelling of the ear canal) - or "swimmer's ear" - on a Monday morning three weeks after the dentist's visit made me think about whether the problems I had with sleep (bed at nine, up at five, back to bed until seven...), diet (why won't this weight come off!?), infections, & motivation (in all areas, not just athletics) this summer was more than being sick, more than being tired, but perhaps overtraining. Perhaps it was closer to overreaching back in the spring, as I approached 70.3 NOLA. But even at that point, a week out from the event, I could sense something was very wrong. I'm not a strong swimmer, & the thought of getting back in the open water after a disastrous day last November in Panama City - triggered by a discussion about swim courses at a race director training course - took me to a state of sheer, physical panic. Thank heavens for the "no-swim" choice on the day, a (very thin) silver lining to the black cloud of trying to get through a very warm day - including an open water swim - under your own power.

The following week was a road trip down into central Florida for the Road Runners Club of America convention. I felt pretty good for a couple of morning runs; nothing stellar, but good...good being defined as state of fitness a week after bicycling and running 69 miles. A swim at a local pool showed the fatigue was still there, though. And then, reality set in after the second mile of a 10K on Saturday. I was reduced to alternating walking & running sections, in the same manner I got through the 70.3 run course. After finishing in a time which was nearly a minute slower than my average performance, I knew it was time to take some time away. A month of easy workouts on the elliptical trainer & swims in the pool were good, but the aches & pains I had getting up every morning were disconcerting. Feeling like a person who is much older & much slower than you prefer to be is not fun. So, Vicki's concern about my dental health, added to the state of mental health - burned out - were possibly little more than manifestations of a greater problem of overreaching or overtraining.

As I've started looking at the training plan for Rock n' Roll/Mardi Gras 2011, the mantra less is more is making sense. I guess at 48 we take a little bit longer to recover from our indiscretions than at 28. Ibuprofen is no substitute for the occasional rest day. And there's no nutritional supplement that can help you perform when your mind just isn't into it.So far things seem to be going well. An extra day of rest, & listening to the need of my body to do only the amount of training necessary for the next event (why train for 14 hours a week if you're 9 weeks out from a half-marathon?) has felt wonderful, both during the two-or-three cross-training sessions I'm doing each week, as well as the workouts. I'm not eating ibuprofen like candy, either.

Every so often, like Shawn Colvin's "Sunny," we have to sit down, take a hard look at what we're doing to ourselves, & make a few small repairs.

Brain Frittata

While I haven't been to the point where I wish the ESC key would beam me up off the Planet of Training and Education and back to the Starship, there have been brief, transient moments where my brain couldn't handle it...at all. Take, for instance, contract administration. A program guy like me knows (of course!) this is the reason contract officer's representatives exist. I mean, come on, for what other reason would they? It's certainly not for making coffee.

However, my CAPT is asking for a document I will probably give a working title (and a tip of the cycling cap or running visor to a former boss for this one...) Contract Administration For Bears Of Little Brain.
Fortunately, we're past the hard part of the Information Professional survey, so I can focus on one thing, and one thing only for at least a week. One of my weaknesses has been the (relative) inability to multitask. Some tell me it's a guy thing. This might be true, but I think my loving wife suffers from the same weakness. Well, she can multitask, but there are details she (IMHO) should remember but doesn't...that's where I come in to save the day. While I can't walk and chew gum at the same time I can remember the formula of which the gum was made.
My caffeine and bagel pusher (for want of a more genteel term), Mike, told me the 'Evil Empire Barriobucks' chain-wide training session is not a first for them. (NOTE: I stopped using my iTunes Song of the Day card as a bookmark after the lunch break where I received the third degree from Mike...the "S" word is pretty much a vulgarity of the highest order at Cafe' Espresso on Barrancas!) I guess it's like coaching, too. You can either guide and counsel a small number of athletes up-close-and-personal, or you can be Coach On-Line. I'm not throwing stones at Mssrs. Carmichael, Allen, Friel, et. al.; they have the knowledge and are willing to pass it along to the public for a price.
There's something cool about being able to take the time and talk to an individual. I laugh more standing on the side of the track than I ever did trying to do two things (train and administer workouts) at once. There might be coaches who can run and coach at the same time...once again, I can't multitask, and prefer not to. Besides, I'd rather not hammer a workout...or blame my hammered workout on the folks I've decided to help.
I mentioned something about PED last autumn after reading books written by Floyd Landis and David Walsh. In the world of triathlon the idea of testing age-groupers is starting to take hold (most tri-geeks are in a more-comfortable financial position, save for guys like me...), and it's suspected road racing (at least at the highest caliber races) might begin testing to level the playing field. While I doubt road runners are taking PED I've no doubt in my mind trackies (especially sprinters) play the let's see if I can be caught game. Okay, not all of them are taking drugs, but every time you turn around there's another athlete getting busted for something from years back and giving the sport a huge shiner...not to be mistaken with the beer from Texas.
Of course, there is a difference between tri-geeks and road runners: tri-geeks have to purchase a national governing body (USA Triathlon) membership in order to participate in an event. That membership includes a form which states the athlete will follow the USADA/WADA (anti-doping) rules. Roadies at USATF or RRCA events aren't bound by such constraints, unless they participate in a major sanctioned event (Azalea Trail, Peachtree, Boston, and the like)...where money or titles are at stake...and then they probably can expect a cup to be handed to them when it's all said and done.
I was going to ramble mindlessly on about religion of sport, especially running, but as you can tell if you've read this far...my brain is pretty much toasted. I need more coffee and probably a day to sit in the sunshine, reading a good book...which won't happen for at least another week.