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 Size Of The Dog In The Fight

"It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog." - Samuel Langhorne Clemens, a.k.a. Mark Twain (1835-1910)

My personal best at the 5,000 meter distance on the roads came at the tail end of a great season of training & racing with a couple of really good guys, guys who would definitely be on my short list of favorite training partners in the past. As I think about them, one guy definitely stands out from the others; he brought out the best (on rare occasions the worst) in me at the track & on the roads.

Mike was one of those guys who did not look like a "typical runner". Really. Think about the folks you see when you show up at a local road race; most are milling about in their singlets & shorts doing their stretches, jogging their striders. Everybody's tense, as if their self-image depends on running a personal best. Well, everybody except for Mike. To see him before the start of a race, (or hanging out at the track before a workout, for that matter) you would scratch your head in wonder: Did this guy miss the turn to the softball field & somehow end up here? So, right off the bat you would discount this guy's ability to be at the front of the field, or at least in front of you.

That is, until the gun went off. Mike was the kind of runner who could blow your doors off at the first mile; he could lay back & wait patiently until the three-mile point, then kick past you as you're "dying". Either way, you would gasp in wonder at the finish: "how can a BIG guy run so quickly?"There are factors involved in running which cannot be easily measured, such as motivation, discipline & mental toughness - some or all of these qualities can make the difference between a person being a good runner & a very good runner. But, there are measurable factors which can help determine potential running performance, or determine the level for potential improvement.

The first measure I've talked about in the recent past, VO2max. VO2max is defined as the maximum capacity of an individual's body to transport and use oxygen during exercise; the more physically fit you are, supposedly, the higher your VO2max. A person's VO2max can be affected by age, gender, fitness, training, altitude change, & action of the muscles involved in breathing. It's a measure lots of runners strive to improve - I've had runners come to me to help them improve their VO2max - the first thing I tell them is that VO2max is a relatively poor predictor of running performance.

The most recent example I have encountered is a young lady training for her first iron-distance triathlon. She wanted to improve her VO2max (which I translated as "I need to get my running speed up") but I soon found she was lacking in running economy. She had a very loud footstrike, which I reasoned was due to overstriding & a low cadence. So, even the most physiologically gifted runner can be hampered by poor running economics, & the intangibles of mental toughness & motivation can either help the runner resist fatigue...or to give in to it on the day.

I was recently reminded by Coach Patrick McCrann from Marathon Nation of the relevance of body composition - weight, literally - to running performance. He reminded me of research which alluded to an increase of two seconds per mile, all other factors being equal, for every excess pound of body weight. It's fairly simple to realize - especially in the case of persons who have too much weight on their frame - how excess weight makes it difficult to run (or even walk, in some cases). But it's a little harder to explain to a five-foot, eight-inch runner who weighs 165-to-170 pounds (depending on the time of year) those extra 10-to-15 pounds could mean the difference between a 1:35 and a 1:29 half marathon time.

Guys like my buddy Mike - who is now what John L. Parker, Jr. described as "Once A Runner" because of knee injuries - & a lot of my contemporaries are confounded in their efforts to drop those few extra pounds by the very nature of their lifestyle. Believe me, I'm preaching to myself on this one, too; my love of beer & pizza has to be continually moderated with a (renewed) love for lean meats & veggies.

There are certain cross-training activities for which I need to be careful. I know there's a solid ten pounds of muscle in my upper body which come from swimming for triathlons. I can still fit into the same size pants I did when I started running, but several of my favorite shirts have had to be sacrificed. Naturally, there's a fine thin line under which your weight probably should not go. Keeping track of your running performances & your weight at the same time is a good idea; there will be a certain weight at which you begin to feel more fatigued & less swift...that's the weight floor.

In closing, a good way to be (to borrow from a few of my favorite songs) "bigger than your body gives you credit for" on race day is to become less of a person than you used to be. Dropping a few pounds may be the edge to give you those extra seconds you need to make that personal best.

Hammer Time!

Tempo run of seven miles yesterday at the beach. The group - which includes most of our team officers, several of our active membership, and not a few of our former members (who I graciously classify on my nicer days as alumni) meets every Wednesday evening at 6:00 to run anywhere from four to six miles, then eat, drink and be merry until they can't stand it any longer...or the management kicks them out.

I've used the treadmill for the majority of the summer because it has been too d@mned hot to get any quality mileage in otherwise...at least while I was healthy enough to run (so maybe there was a good side to breaking my arm!). Two weeks ago I went to the beach to do a six-mile tempo and completely exploded in a blaze of glory at the three-mile point. BRAAP! Back to the treadmill for a couple of more weeks, Coach Mike. I bumped up the pace on the treadmill runs to ~6:44/mile, taking a three-minute cool-down cycle between each mile. Then, I decided to extend the tempo repeat from 1 mile to 1.2 miles, so I got the mileage in five pieces, vice six. That's three less minutes of easier running/jogging/walking, too.

We were talking about the beach loop the other night, and Scott, my assistant and club secretary mentions something in passing about the six-mile loop being only 5.8 miles. I almost asked him, 'says who?' We've never really measured a course out there, and I have little love for GPS wearers and their complete dogmatic trust (dependence?) on that gadget. I have to admit I'm not as violently opposed to them as I was in the past, and I would use one if it were given to me (Note to my loving wife: no, I really do not need a GPS, not unless it does the street navigation, too.) by a company wanting someone to wear-test. Dude, if there's anyone who can destroy a piece of technology with just casual, everyday use, it's me. Ask Nike; that's why they are no longer in the MP3 player market.

I probably could have used one last night, though, to run the tempo run. I have a good idea where the two-mile point on the course is located, so I figured what I would need to add on in time duration (ten minutes) to lengthen the 5.8 mile loop run into a 7-mile tempo run. Hammer ten more minutes (five out, five back), on top of what I guessed would be a 40-to-41-minute run normally and voila! Done.

Well, I went out at a comfortable (7 minute/mile) pace for the first two miles. Who knew I would pick up the pace that much after two? Who knew I would race the sun coming back? Who knew I'd run 49:34 for 7.8 miles!? That's a little bit fast (ya think, Coach?) for a tempo run. That's about 20 seconds faster than my average pace for a half marathon.

However, I tend to run on feel, not on gauges. When I had a Suunto POD and heart rate monitor, I spent a lot of time looking at the data rather than running more by feel. That's the liberty of going by physiological markers, especially after you've done enough training. Translates well into racing and you don't have to worry about if or when the technology bites the big one (like the Suunto did)...Murphy's Law...and it goes wrong after you become dependent on the technology.

Working that hard makes it interesting the morning after, especially if you're doing any kind of cross-training or you have a real daytime job. When our organization provided employees the option of working flexible work schedules; the kind where you do your 40 hours of weekly work over the course of four days, or your 80 hours of a pay period over the course of nine, I decided immediately it was not for me. Sorry, boss. I'm a creature of habit, and I coach. I have places to be in the early afternoon, and I like having not to worry about taking two hours of annual leave in conjunction with a federal holiday.

Besides, I'd rather do 80 percent of the something my boss and my other 'eight days a pay period' co-workers are doing each day.

Service With a Snarl/Blank Stare

After a week of waiting and the hope to expose our team's new logo/look to the masses, I have to admit I'm pleased and disappointed. The womens' gear looks great; both the singlet and the jogbra will get people's attention at the local races. Of course, there were folks who said to Suzanne, 'Oh, I didn't know you were going to do something like that...' She's gracious enough to not say anything publicly, but we both knew she sent out an e-mail to every woman who trains with the team, in fact, there were several team alumna who received the e-mail, too. There's the pleasure.

The disappointment was seeing my own singlet. Since the guy at the imprinter shop didn't take the time to READ THE FLIPPIN' (E-)MAIL, all I have on the front of my singlet is the abbreviation and the little running man...plus the web site URL. The back has the URL, too, but you'll never see it unless you're staring at my @$$. Yeah, it's that low on the singlet.

So, I went in and let the guy have it with both barrels. The only thing that kept me from engaging in a full-blown Tourette's Syndrome attack on his backside was the fact the t-shirts came out almost perfect. My vision was good on this one, for once.

So, now some of the UWF group (and one of the officers) has podium wear for upcoming races. This means they can hang out without looking like a drippy dog and risking the chance of catching a chill after a race.

A lesson learned through this particular situation; sometimes you just have to tell someone that their best effort was not good enough. It's taken a number of years for me to get this way, though. I've always been the type of person who wants everyone to be my friend (I have a hard time making friends, you understand...). Sometimes I say and do things in a state of mindlessness that p!$$@$ people off; I have to explain it's not a personal issue, only the fact they failed to meet my (sometimes way too high) standards.

First time I started to think about this was probably my first relationship after my divorce. The woman I was seeing had absolutely no qualms about sending a food order back if it wasn't right; I, more likely than not, will suck it up and eat lukewarm french fried potatoes at Applebee's. Now, I might not complain about a food order unless it's completely screwed up, but I will consider strongly whether to make a second trip into a particular establishment. My tolerance for failure is inversely proportional to the amount of cold, hard cash I'm spending, pretty much said.

It's amazing, though, to think how much we tolerate poor service and poor quality, from the snarly clerk at the convenience store who's ringing up our over-priced and exceedingly cheap American beer to the civil servant who charges us a $500 fee for the privilege of producing a local running event, yet makes us run all over the municipal building to every office to do her job. Doesn't make a whole lot of sense, does it?

Changing Courses in the Middle of the Stream

Ever have a training plan or a racing plan drafted out in the smallest detail, then suddenly - wham! - bad strangeness sets in? Often I find that what I've laid out works good for me, seemingly, then I encounter a friend or a teammate who says, 'hey, I'm planning on doing...' Next thing I know I'm sitting in front of a beer or two with my wife, trying to figure out how can I do this and not screw up my plan for that? Naturally, I have a number of choices:

One, I can choose to not do the particular activity with the friend/teammate. I might not have the opportunity to enjoy myself by being in their particular presence, but I definitely haven't screwed up on two fronts.

Two, I can choose the activity my friend is doing rather than my originally-planned 'thing to do.' Done that before and enjoyed the daylights out of it. In fact, I've never had (that I can rightly recall) a bad Plan-B-activity. I guess you can say that the social aspects of the event far outweighed the lost opportunity cost of the discarded event. It's not always perfect, you understand. Sometimes you pay the price for not doing what you know deep down you should be doing. There's a handful of x-rays in an orthopedic consultant's office and a velcro arm sling that can attest silently to this.

Three, I can find a way to do both...if I really want to do it. How many times have I jumped into a race at the absolute last minute and sucked bilge, or run two races on a single day and felt beat up afterward? Well, a couple of times. However, I think it's all in the perspective; if you do a particular event on a lark without any preconceived (unrealistic) expectations you'll probably have more fun than you expected to. And who knows? Sometimes that's when those fleeting personal best efforts come to pass.

I guess the lesson you can take from this commentary is to have a good idea when, where, how many, and how long a distance you intend to race during a season. Do what seems best to you, not to the friend who's trying to talk you into the Murky George 100-Kilometer Slog Through The Bog or something like that. Right now, I'm thinking about whether to take a year off from racing, outside of a half-iron distance triathlon or two. Whether or not the hiatus will sharpen my desire to toe the line once again is at question. Right now, the goal is to make it to the end of December...after that, I can start thinking about my racing future. Hey, it might not hurt to take a year and just be Coach.