Will Stretching Make Me Faster? Probably Not.

There are persons who stretch a lot. There are persons who say all runners should stretch a lot. Then, there are others who say too much stretching can be a bad idea.

The January 2012 issue of Outside magazine took ten of the biggest fitness myths to the mats. One of them had to do with stretching's effect on running parformance. FSU researchers asked ten male athletes to stretch for 16 minutes, then run for an hour on a treadmill. In a later session, the same crew sat quietly for 16 minutes, then hit the treadmill for the same duration. Without the pre-run stretch, the men covered more distance while expending less energy.

So, I don't feel quite so bad about my inability to stretch. At least I can run.

Ah, you say, but if you did stretch you probably would not have to deal with the nagging little injuries you've had in the past year. Not so fast, my little friend. In several large-scale studies of athletes and military recruits, static stretching did not reduce the incidence of common overuse injuries such as Achilles tendinopathy (one of the issues with which I deal) and knee pain.

In my humble opinion, stretching is a personal matter. I'm not going to tell someone they shouldn't stretch if they feel it helps. When specific muscles are tight or I have run a lot of mileage, I will do a little bit of stretching, usually the calf muscles (which also impacts the achilles’ tendon), the iliotibial band, & the hamstrings, since these are the muscles which become most inflexible because we run.

One thing you will not see me do is throw my leg over the back of a chair, or do what I see most recreational runners do, what I like to call "flamingo imitations." You've seen the person. They're the one who take their foot and pull it directly behind them up to their backside. I'm not certain whether they're working on their knee flexibility or their quadriceps muscle. Neither one really seems all that essential to run performance.

All three muscle group stretches can be done by having a flat surface, something with which to lean against, and a bench or chair. A fifteen-minute warm-up, consisting of a jog and some stretching - at the most - and on to the run.

The calf stretch can be done while leaning against a wall, bleachers, pole, or any solid object. Hold the stretch for 30 to 60 seconds without bouncing, then switch legs.

The iliotibial (IT) band stretch is done by crossing one leg behind the other 6-9 inches, then leaning toward the rear leg. Again, hold the stretch for 30 to 60 seconds without bounce, then switch legs.

The hamstrings can be stretched by placing the leg up on a bench or support between knee & waist height (there are variations which keep both feet on the ground). Bend slowly forward at the waist until the stretch is felt, hold for 30 to 60 seconds, then switch legs.

Some things you don't want to do:

Never try to stretch a muscle that has not been warmed up. A few minutes of easy jogging (the same amount of time it takes to run about a mile) will raise a muscle’s temperature enough to make it pliable.

Never bounce during a stretch. Just stretch as far as the muscle will allow; stay relaxed & breathe. You don’t get awards for being the most flexible at the race.

Never over-stretch. You really can stretch too much & leave your joints susceptible to injury.

If you really feel the need to do it, stretching does not need to look like a return to dance classes of our youth. As long as you do it in a manner which aligns with your day-to-day functionality you probably won't need to worry about loss of muscle strength, or hurting your joints.

Feeling Positive About The Negatives

(Sandy - 1st Female Overall, Chris - 1st Master's Male, & MB after the Jingle Bell 10K)

So the plan was for 14 miles this weekend. However, my friend Scott (a.k.a. Knaves) asked if I was going to come over to Ft. Walton Beach, FL for the Arthritis Foundation Jingle Bell 10K. The last time I ran this race - seven years ago - it was 30 degrees colder & 20 miles per hour windier on the day. My friend Sandy was trying to PR at the 10k; her boyfriend Chris, & Brian, another friend, were going to pace her. Chris & Brian left her hanging in the wind for the last two miles, so I ran her in. She got her PR, which lasted for seven years, (which she reminded me the other day!), & I had a great time strutting my stuff in the chill. Of course, I was very (5K & 10K) race-healthy then. Now, working toward a marathon, with questionable achilles' tendons, it might have been a tad stupid to race. But, Suzanne & I like Knaves, & the race was late enough in the morning, so...

Chris warmed up with Suzanne & me before Sandy, Brian, Chris & I jogged the first mile of the course. He said to me: 'you going to do 39 today?' Of course, my answer was, 'Not today. This is part of the long run for the weekend. Just going out to have some fun.' Once the race started, it definitely was fun, all right.

I normally blow past 90-percent of the field at the first mile, after which it's no-man's-land for the remainder of the race; the studs leave me way behind & I'm strung out in between the really good runners & the fairly good ones. But this time, I went easy the first mile with Knaves, then slowly started to ratchet up the pace. Amazingly, I picked off runners here & there on the course between mile three & four. One guy said to me as I went by at mile four, 'nice kick.' I wasn't too certain about the tactics of the day, even at that point; I smiled (Maybe that was a grimace; they both look alike from a distance.) & told him so.

Passing a couple of greyhounds (Real greyhounds - they had a dog walk at the same time.) at the fifth mile, & all I could think was 'how much longer can I do this?' It was probably good I couldn't read my heart rate monitor, only my pace; I probably would have backed off. Fortunately for me there was still about three runners hanging out in front of me; I couldn't tell how cute the female was, but she was definitely working the pace up there. By the time I got to her, & then the sixth mile, I was running a pace about five seconds per mile slower than my half-marathon performance time, & about 20 seconds per mile slower than my "healthy" 10K pace.

Even if I hadn't won my age group I was very pleased with the effort, especially three weeks after my half-marathon meltdown. To top it all off, Suzanne took second place in her age group. It's not often when two Bowens score hardware, so when we do it's cause for celebration.

Now for the rest the story:

I'm going to make a confession. I have a nasty tendency to look at things & see 'opportunities for improvement.' Rarely, if ever, have I said to myself while hanging out with friends, athletes, loved ones & assorted sweaty lunatic friends: 'dude, today you ran a perfect race.' Maybe all of twice in the past decade of racing the 'perfect race' has happened; a PR at the Azalea Trail Run 10K in Mobile, & a consistent pace at a hot, early summer 5K here at home.

While I've always sought out & valued consistency above almost any other quality in life, the only thing which I've considered more difficult (the negativity most every racer seeks!) to accomplish is negative split racing. Why is this so difficult to accomplish?

First, most runners don't exercise discipline & restraint while training. They're more likely to run EVERY workout at the same effort; so rather than following the hard day/easy day, or even the hard day/easy day/easier day dictum, it's (I kid you not, I have a friend who does this:) 5K, every day, all-out. At least until they become injured, but that's another story.

Second, many runners who have the physical fitness don't quite have the emotional or mental fitness to race negative. These are the friends who, when you ask to them about their goal time before the race, will tell you they want to go out at a particular pace. When the horn goes off, however, it's a completely different story. The first mile herd instinct & adrenaline pitches the best laid plans in the rubbish, leaving them to suffer for the last two (or more) miles of the race.

Third, the runners who are smart enough to go out easy early misjudge how much faster they should increase the pace over time; there's either too much 'gas in the tank' when they reach the finish, or they begin to fade in the last mile. Racing negative splits is a trial-and-error process; once you do it right it will be your Holy Grail of sorts.

What do you need to race negative splits?

I cannot over-stress the benefit of training runs at different intensity levels, with & without the aid of GPS, heart rate monitors & running watches. Why do I say 'without' as well as 'with?' You never know when you're going to show up on race day WITHOUT your running watch or your GPS (which almost happened this weekend!), or your battery dies, or the course is marked poorly...so know how a particular pace on the road or track 'feels' to the legs, heart & lungs.

Here's an interesting idea: Toe the line with a solid racing plan - this particular intensity or pace for a particular section of the course, pick up the pace to a higher intensity after this point, & then begin to really push at this point, etc. - follow it as much as possible. Trust your plan; don't go out with the herd. If your plan is solid the odds are very high you're going to catch & probably pass them before it's all over.

And, most importantly: Don't place any stressful or unrealistic expectations on yourself. Face it, the vast majority of us are paying money to terrorize squirrels & cats (followed by socializing!) on a weekend morning when most of our co-workers are still sleeping. For a very small, less-than-one-percent of the population, what SHOULD BE fun & games for you is BIG PRESENTATION DAY at the office for them.

If it's not fun, you probably should be looking for something else to do, right?

NPR Mornings

"...every day on the street I study their faces; the ones who rush on through the crowd, towards their own quiet worlds, their separate places, somewhere I'm never allowed; 'cause I've always been one to say what I need, then the next thing it's done and I'm watching 'em leave, and I'm thinking, 'I wish I could be alone but not lonely...'" - Mary-Chapin Carpenter (2001)

...so, a week out from what initially was to be my target fall half-marathon, I decided to take what I like to call an "NPR morning." Now, for me, NPR means two different things: National Public Radio, or No Planned Run. Depending on the weather conditions it can be both, but it definitely means a large part of the morning spent with coffee, thick tomes of "mindless reading," & Suzanne. If the weather is beautiful there can be a run plugged in on the front end. If not, then I climb into my sweats or warm-ups, make a large pot of coffee & turn on the stereo to listen to our local public radio station. This time the weather was pretty, save for the sudden drop in temperature. We decided to go to the coffee-and-baked goods joint at the mall.

Minutes after we settled into our booth I saw a local runner/coach walk in, bundled up post-run in his warm-up outfit. I got up to refilll my coffee as he ordered a pecan sweet roll at the counter. I walked up & said: 'you realize that stuff will kill you, right?' He responded with much the same kind of retort I would have given in his position: 'since I ran 6.8 miles this morning I think I'll be fine, thanks.' We chatted for a few moments, then I went on to get my coffee.

A couple of minutes later he stopped by our table, presumably on the way home. My wife asked how the Sunday morning run group he headed up was faring; he mentioned the past couple of weeks were good, but that this week was a little on the light side.

She said, 'how light?'

He said, 'one. It was only me this morning.'

I can sympathize with his situation. I've run with large groups of people & I've trained solo. I cannot say I like one state more than the other; depending on the day, the weather, my mood, & my physical state, I can absolutely dig a group run...or a group run can be akin to nineteenth-century dentistry. It's kind of the reason I keep my iPod charged up & ready; in spite of the potential dangers of blasting Kanye West into my skull at half-volume while cruising the road behind the local airport, the music does what a good running companion would also accomplish.

"Iron sharpens iron, So one man sharpens another." - Proverbs 27:17, New American Standard Bible (1995)

While Suzanne has learned to suck it up & run solo, she often wishes for my own sake that I had a regular training partner. I could & would gladly accept a runner who runs anywhere from my pace to a solid minute per mile slower, if nothing else but for the "easier" effort days. If there's someone running with you, especially someone a little slower, you're more likely to back off the intensity to meet their effort. Since the end of the summer, I've been blessed with a couple of good athletes during my twice-weekly track workouts. Their efforts keep me honest, & mine theirs. But they have their own weekend training & work schedules, so I don't have company on the long run I would truly enjoy.

There's plenty of opportunity to make excuses - want to go to the beach, for a drive, to sleep in, to spend time with family - when the days are perfect. Then, before you know it, you've got a bunch of those "too-days." "Too-days" are those days when it is too hot, too cold, too windy, too dark, too early, too late, etc., to go run. The best way to not get sucked into those "too-days," I've mentioned before, also has to do with two - train with an additional two persons. A training triad of three accounts for the inevitable need to take care of something else which has suddenly popped up in one person's life, yet keeps the remaining two members accountable to each other.

Those "NPR mornings" are a nice way to earn what my friend (and Marathon Nation coach) Patrick McCrann calls "spousal approval units" (more on this topic at a later date) & treat your body to a little extra (planned or unplanned) rest, both of which which can make all the difference in your training regimen.

K.I.S.S.-ing To Be Clever

The middle of May, here in the FL panhandle, is kind of the tail end of the spring road running season & the height of the triathlon season. So, for the runners it's usually time to back things up & either build the base that should have been built in the chill, dark months of January & February or to recover, maintain & build a tolerance to the heat over the summer so the autumn race season isn't nearly as painful.

And I stress the need for easy-paced runs throughout the summer's heat & humidity. Even the track workouts I assign over the summer are based on perceived effort. This week we ended up with some partly cloudy, humid but not overpowering conditions, which is a good start for adapting. But I have one or two athletes who own Garmins and click them on & off on every repeat. That's not so much the maddening thing as much as when they check their pace during the warm-up.
'So, what's the proper pace for warm-up?' I asked one of the Garmin users last night at the track. He rattled off a pace about 30 seconds off what I try to run on one of my easy days. 'Let me walk you further down this train of thought; is there a single, right pace at which you should warm-up?' I think he got the message after that statement.

While I like GPS gear for the benefit of knowing more-or-less how far you've traveled, I think it places an undue dependence on technology. Don't we run to get more in touch with the inner workings of our bodies? While I can do the simple mathematics on my regular running courses to determine how fast my pace is, there are days when I am more labored at running an eight-minute mile-pace easy run; that's probably too fast for the day. Actually, that happened a couple of evenings ago out at the beach. While it was not much warmer than usual, it was a little breezy & humid (conditions that make my exercise-induced asthma kind of kick up).
'You're breathing heavy tonight. Usually I don't hear you that way for at least another mile when the pace picks up,' said my Garmin-guy. Considering the conditions & the fact I raced two races four days earlier, it was not supposed to be a sprightly-paced run. I mentioned what I thought the pace was, at which he told me, 'no, it's...'

Some days the "fresh" pace is slower than others. I'm trying to keep it simple.

Once we got about three miles into the run I began to feel a little better & the pace dropped; a few seconds here, a few seconds there. It probably didn't hurt to make an unscheduled boxen-stop (potty break!) at the 2.5-mile point. Give my training-mates 20 seconds to get up the road & I'm hell-bent for election to catch them. It's that simple.

Too much technology leads to too much dependence on numbers - useless data - in training. If you don't know what the numbers mean, or you can't figure out what a particular effort (pace) feels like on the day, what's the use? It's little more than mathematical self-abuse.

(I was going to use a more-adult term starting with the letter M, but in order to keep this blog post at a PG rating...)

Scarier, even, is if the technology cr*ps out on you on race day. Or you find your pace/power/HR isn't where it should be. At that point what do you do? Do you panic, bail out of your race, or do you (as Clint Eastwood in Heartbreak Ridge said:) 'adapt....overcome....improvise?' Batteries die. Satellites go down unexpectedly. Connections become disconnected.

That's why it's always best to keep things as simple as possible, but, as Albert Einstein was reported to have said: 'but not simpler.'

The Eighty-Percent Solution

Of course, the only caption I could probably think of at this particular time is a rip-off of an old James Taylor tune, Hey, Buddy, That's Me On The Jukebox...or something like that. Once again I decided to join up with 17,500 of my closest friends in order to partake in what might be considered (lightly) the sacrament of sweat on the day before Easter.
After running one of my strongest 10K races last year, followed by probably what has been the most challenging training years I've ever had as a runner, I harbored no unrealistic expectations for the day. All I wanted to do was:
1) Run well enough (top 500 finishers) to earn my fifth Crescent City Classic poster in five tries.
2) Finish in under 40 minutes.
3) Not injure myself.
This years' trip had more of an Emerald Coast Racing Team focus to it, since seven of us stayed in the same hotel just blocks from the starting line. What it lacked in pure amenities it made up for in location, location, location. (Editorial comment: Probably not worth a repeat next year, but the price was reasonable enough to merit one.) I had to take care of some RRCA business earlier in the day - promised the LA state rep I would support her meeting and provide a brief presentation on measurement and certification - hope it was good enough. CCC always has that sort of work hard, play hard attitude around it; the volunteers from the New Orleans Track Club and other local sporting organizations really bust their chops to make our experience each year a memorable one.
We didn't push any particular itinerary, allowing the laissez faire, laissez passe mentality to go on. Suzanne and I knew what we wanted/needed to get accomplished; everything else was gravy. It kind of made for a smaller group dynamic, but we managed to hook up at least once through the weekend.
Enough about them. Back to me.
Great conditions for racing, especially when compared to last year's near freezing temperatures. We had temps in the high 50s at the start with a gentle breeze coming from the north, if I rightly recall. Since we were so close to the start I completely overlooked the need for a warm-up jog; usually the Pensacola contingent all meets at the Chateau Sonesta for a quick photo-op, then makes their way toward the starting corrals, about half a mile away. Being as close as we were, I had to walk no more than three blocks, maybe four, to the corral and porta-johns. (I worried more about the potty stop than the warm-up. Both are just as important; I could have jogged a couple of corrals back and hit a porta-john with a much smaller waiting line...achieving the desired or necessary results - empty bladder/bowel and loose limbs.)
As usual, the NOLA military contingent seems to find a new way to screw around with athlete access every year. This year there was no division of corrals, so we found more than our share of persons who were about two corrals out of their league, up with the elites, near-elites and pretty darn good runners.
No warm-up and lots of nervous tension doesn't do well when you're standing in a crowd of 17,500 waiting for a cannon to shoot you down Decatur Street. I looked at the readout on my HR monitor and found it registering somewhere in the high 190s. Probably a good thing I didn't take more than a swig of Suzanne's coffee to go along with my bottle of orange juice.
Mile 1 & 2 were run in 6:15 and 6:10 pace. Right from the start of the race I didn't feel like I was running with the option of an extra gear. (There's the consequence of undertraining and insufficient warm-up) I also noticed my left shoelace flopping about after the first mile split. I knew it would mean the difference between a bad day and a very bad day; stopping to retie would lead to a bad day, ignoring it in the presence of all these knuckleheads could cause a very bad day. Stopped for about 20 seconds just before the left turn onto Esplanade Avenue and did a quick double knot...something I should have done a couple of hours earlier.
Mile 3 & 4 felt closer to a typical day on this course. I hit the three-mile mark at about the time I normally would have run a 5K (if racing fit). While I wasn't too worried I didn't have the confidence of rolling through the rest of the race like I wanted to. Sure, I was still passing runners in ones and twos, but I couldn't tell whether these were good runners, knuckleheads who went out too hard and were starting to pay for their mistakes, or jumpers, folks who were not seeded and decided to jump in on the course after the starting line.
I used to have evil things to say about bandits, but I am learning to dislike jumpers more so. If you're not seeded in a race and you decide to jump onto the course after the starting line, wait until you begin to see a lot of people at your pace...not at the pace you wish you could run.
Okay, there's my cranky moment for the blog. I'm back now.
Mile 5 & 6 is always the worst part of this race. You're away from the packs of spectators on Esplanade and far off from the packs near the finish under the oak trees. This is the part of the course where if I'm not racing fit or haven't run smart I end up Gallowalking. This year was no exception. All I could hear during this particular stretch was my mind telling my body how badly it (my body!) sucked. Once I turned into the park, over by the tennis courts, and saw the time clock (32 minutes at 5 miles) I resigned myself to the fact I would have to have a super last mile and two tenths to make it in under 40 minutes...and that at this point it wasn't going to happen without a lot of hurt. When you get to the 5.2 mile point on the course, at this little bridge, there's a guy who stands and counts the runners coming through. He's usually pretty accurate, give or take ten runners - well, at least up to the first hundred or so. After the pack thickens up it's probably a SWAG (serious wild-@$$ guess). Counter-Guy has me at 190-195, which is the lowest I've been on the food chain in five years. At that point I make the decision to turn and burn the last mile and see how many people I can pick off, regardless of how badly I'm hurting (Note: Bev Fair's "what would Coach do?" comment again). I lost count of how many persons I passed once I got to the circle around the museum, but I suspect somewhere around 15-20.
At .2 to go is the boom where the Marathon Foto folks take some of the best photos during the race. It's usually my favorite part of the course because there's not that many persons near me when I get here. However, some knucklehead who is barely ahead of me decides he's going to have his moment of exultation, raising his arms skyward for the camera. Thanks, dude. Now it's going to take some serious Photoshop work for me to get a good photo of this race. I guess I'll pass you now.
I can hear a guy coming up on my left and working it hard. I have nothing left in the tank. Zero. He's going to pass me, so I might as well keep pushing and make him work a little longer.
Finished in 40:18, 136th overall. For the first 30 minutes after the race I'm disappointed with myself, especially for not having the guts to maintain the effort in the fourth and fifth miles. However, looking back, I did meet at least two of my three goals for the day. I knew I was under-trained; needed more long runs, and more quality speedwork. Forgoing a decent warm-up also prevented me from being more comfortable at the start (sometimes you need to release a little of the excess energy before you go to the starting line) and making necessary equipment adjustments (I normally use a lightweight trainer with elastic laces, but the last two races have been in either a lightweight trainer without elastics or a medium weight trainer without elastics).
We're not there, but we're doing fine getting there.
The rest of the group ran well - one was in the top-100, another two besides myself finished in the top-500, and my senior guy barely missed top-500 by less than a minute.