Paging "Diana Glampers"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And ourselves.

Instant Running?

I was "batching it" last week, as Suzanne was out of town at an internet telephony conference.  There are benefits and drawbacks to these one-week separations.  The benefit, I guess, you could say, is that I become sort of a hermit; I focus all of my attention on taking care of the dog, as well as my training runs/cross-training.  That meant I had to wake up early enough to feed and walk the dog before getting ready for work.  We do have a coffeemaker with a timer on it, which if I prepare accordingly will awaken me with the aroma of mountain-grown goodness.  Unfortunately, we ran out of "real" ground coffee and I had to settle for freeze-dried instant coffee. 

When you're desperate enough, even freeze-dried coffee tasted pretty darn good.  I wrote myself a little mental note: "stop at the local grocery by the gym; don't forget the beans, stupid."  But, naturally, all I wanted to do once my afternoon workout was completed was get home, change out of my wet soppies, feed the dog and grab a cold beer.  Each morning I kicked myself in the behind for my laziness.  Each evening I conveniently forgot the need to go to the store.  Until Suzanne got home and we needed to go shopping to replace the freezer-to-table, microwave-friendly entrees with frozen veggies, bread, meat, and our other "real" food staples.  Oh, and beer.

We are a lazy, "instant" generation.  I can hear all of the responses from here:  "Duh," you say.  Microwave ovens make freezer-to-table entrees possible for even the most ham-fisted and inept of cooks.  Writer/chef Anthony Bourdain dedicates a chapter in his book "Medium Raw" to the need for culinary literacy for all persons, not just married women.  Face it.  You never know when you're going to have to fend for yourself. 

But we always have a deadline standing in our face; a target which we need to hit at least once a year, sometimes twice.  How many persons do you know who race one event a year; train for six weeks, eight weeks, do the race, then nothing for the next 40. 

It happens every October in my workplace.  The training manager who works next to administers the twice-yearly fitness testing and weigh-in.  If I had a dollar for every time an instructor questioned him, "how soon do I have to be fit?"  Duh.  Isn't that part of your profession?  Aren't you supposed to be ready to go do your job whereever your employer (and mine) tells you? 

The great New Zealand running coach Arthur Lydiard didn't have a lot of nice things to say about American runners, which probably had a lot to do with the American "overnight success" mentality.  He said that to become a good runner (besides winning the genetics and parenting lotteries) it took "...a lot of hard work for five, six, or seven years.  There is no secret formula.  There is no shortcut..."

Unless you're participating in a program where there's at least one pop icon serving as a judge, I cannot think of any other "American Idol." "The Voice," or "X-Factor," I can think of no human endeavor where success occurs quickly or instantly.  Definitely not running, as I've seen while watching the ups and downs of guys like Dathan Ritzenhein.  Or in rehabilitation; my own stumbles and failures have made me much more compassionate, or at least emphathetic, to the struggles of persons who "would love to run" but are perplexed by physiological, psychological, or economic (and when I say economy, I'm talking time, which definitely is a limited commodity) barriers.

It's easy to go the "microwave" route and focus on running for that all-too-brief period of the year, ending up with something that really doesn't satisfy the taste buds and looks like, well, like something that's been microwaved.  There are smells, sights, sensations and feelings which can be found from running throughout the year...even if most of the mileage is done on a treadmill...which we all need to "read," to "loan out" to our friends, and perhaps to "write about" on occasion.

Ticky Tacky and Toe Shoes

First, a very big tip of the running cap to Malvina Reynolds for her song, "Little Boxes." Those of you who have seen the Showtime series, Weeds, know this little song:

"Little boxes on the hillside, little boxes made of ticky tacky; little boxes on the hillside, little boxes all the same. There's a green one and a pink one and a blue one and a yellow one, and they're all made out of ticky tacky and they all look just the same."

I have a copy of Bill Squires' "Fast Tracks: A History of Distance Running Since 884 BC," and recently looked back at the shoes of distance runners of the late 19th and early 20th century. To look at the overwhelming majority of the pedestrians it's simple to understand why running might be looked upon as a frivolous pursuit. Most of the photos and lithographs show them in lightweight leather shoes or sneakers.

And when I talk sneakers, I'm not talking about the stuff I wore playing indoor volleyball in the mid-1990s, but Keds and Chuck Taylors, the shoes I played in as a youngster up until my first pair of tennies issued to me in the Air Force in 1980. Since running tracks were cinder or dirt in those days I bet there wasn't much of a demand for cushioned shoes. And I can guess most folks didn't do a lot of distance running because the shoes weren't all that supportive for their feet. My loving bride ran the Crescent City Classic ten-kilometer road race in a pair of hot pink Chuck Taylors. I bought that pair because they looked good with the costume she was wearing, not thinking she would get fed up with walking and decide to run the last two miles. Ten years later, she swears she'll never pull that sort of stunt ever again.

And the people in the houses all went to the university, where they were put in boxes and they came out all the same. And there's doctors and lawyers, and business executives, and they're all made out of ticky tacky and they all look just the same.

Frank Shorter's Olympic marathon victory in 1972 is heralded as the advent of the first running boom, which was aided by the mass-marketing of trainers by shoe manufacturers like adidas, Onitsuka (now Asics) and Nike. I had no clue whether the shoes I had for track my senior year in high school, a pair of Sears-Roebuck-branded joggers (I would have gladly traded, along with my step-mother, for a pair of adidas), were harmful to my feet. At least I was able to protect my tootsies from the myriad of thorns and stones I encountered on my training runs.

Fast-forward a quarter-century and technology has advanced to the point where our shoes can almost talk to us. Nike gave us air. Asics gave us gel. Saucony gave us grid. And we gave more of our hard-earned dough for more of their technology. Ever see a pair of shoes which looked so damned ugly you knew they were not meant for you? I have three words: Asics Gel Kinsei.

And they all play on the golf course and drink their martinis dry, and they all have pretty children, and the children go to school, and the children go to summer camp and then to the university, where they are put in boxes and they come out all the same.

The great monolith Nike waited until after the death of Bill Bowerman. Visionary, tinkerer, and curmudgeon, Bowerman eventually criticized his own initial creation and Nike's tendency to add too much to the shoe over time...for no other reason than to make money off the running public. Too much money for too much needless technology. Much to their horror, Nike also learned some their sponsored athletes (particularly under coach Vin Lanana) were training barefoot. How can you make money off the bare foot? Looks like a lot of the shoe manufacturers went back to making shoes which either were light and minimally-supportive like racing flats, or like reinforced socks.

You would think the "barefoot running" purists would rejoice at the market slowly turning back toward lightweight, minimally-supportive, minimally-cushioned shoes as a method of strengthening the lower extremities of runners while protecting from the most hazardous aspects of modern outdoor running. But no.

And the boys go into business and marry and raise a family in boxes made of ticky tacky and they all look just the same. There's a green one and a pink one, and a blue one and a yellow one, and they're all made out of ticky tacky and they all look just the same.

I thought I had seen parochialism and dogmatism in the world of training plans and coaching philosophies. The "barefoot" community makes almost any other pluralistic group seem, well, pluralist. Case in point: I purchased a pair of Fila Skele-Toes, partly because I wanted to try out a pair of "barefoot" shoes (I'm not certain what one would consider a foot covering for the "barefoot" running enthusiast, so "shoes" will have to do.), and partly because I did not want to spend the money on a more-expensive pair of Vibrams. To look at the comparison reviews, one would think they had inadvertently landed on the forum of "The Nation" or "The American Spectator".

The Fila Skele-Toes are definitely not as flexible in the sole area as the Vibrams. There are also versions of the Fila with soles which look much like the Nike Free, with a little more firmness. But, the Filas have less cushion than my K-Swiss K-Ona triathlon running shoes (a borderline minimalist shoe) and are narrower in the footbed, so it's a good step in the direction of a completely barefoot walking experience. Yes, I said walking. I have no intention to move in the general direction of barefoot running. I want to see if a minimalist shoe/modality enables me to develop enough lower extremity strength to protect the achilles tendons.

And if it works, I could care less what the Vibram/barefoot purists have to say.

Because we all don't have to be the same.

Don't Say You Don't Belong

My wife ran another half-marathon this weekend. She's been very fortunate to mix business travel with road running, and I think if I could do the same with my work I would. Actually, I was able to during the first two years. After that work-related travel was pretty much minimized. If it couldn't be accomplished by phone or video conference then...and only then...did you have the chance of going on the road.

So there we were, in Miami Beach for an information technology conference. Well, she had the conference. I could have run the event if I had felt the compulsion, but still being injured and recovering, I didn't want to sidetrack my slow progress back to running fitness.

So, I decided I'd hang out along the course for a while and cheer my wife on for once. After which point I could go to breakfast and get a little run of my own. I had two mysteries of the universe which needed solution, though:

How can a guy in a tiny storefront restaurant be overlooked by two servers at eight o'clock in the morning? I wanted my cortadito, damn it. I needed my cortadito.

When looking at marathon and half-marathon participants it's not so much a spectrum of fitness as it is a Venn diagram: There are two categories - the fit and the insane. Then you have the intersection of the two groups, making up the insanely fit. I can understand the fit and the insanely fit doing it, but why do thousands of people who would fall under the "insane" category see the need to run or walk - 13.10938 or 26.21876 miles?

I'm not the best of spectators, especially for live sports events. Especially for live sports which I can do. Little league baseball and middle school basketball might have much to do with this attitude. I couldn't throw a baseball for beans, and I didn't touch a basketball until I was age ten. So I spent more time picking splinters out of my baseball uniform pants during the summer. Basketball was worse; I was more practice squad material than benchwarmer. I didn't get to play during "garbage" time; the coach didn't realize until the last game of the season ended.

Once I hit high school I figured out I was a better musician and actor than an athlete.

But during the spring of my senior year I had too much free time on my hands and sure as hell didn't want to go home early to deal with...never mind. So I went out for track, specifically distance running; in my school that was the 800 meters, mile and two-mile. The coach focused more on the sprints and hurdles than the distance guys; their training was more 'go out and run, you'll figure out what you need' than doing technical stuff or sprints. So I'd go run, then walk home from school after track.

It was dusty and very anti-social. But I was not at home. I never knew anyone who was cut from the track team. They might have quit, but they didn't get cut.

That's the nice thing about road running. You can quit, but nobody can say you don't belong. As long as you know how to place one foot in front of the other repeatedly from point A to point B you have a place in the grand scheme of things.

Got a brain, heart, lungs and limbs which are capable of propelling you along? Good.

Got a pair of shoes? Good.

Got a trail, path, track or road? Good.

And perhaps that's the reason people do road races. Call it "Occupy the Road," if you like. I guess you could just as easily run that 21.0625 or 42.125 kilometers out on a wooded trail, a beach, a stretch of sidewalk, a grassy field, or whatever surface (including a treadmill in the privacy of your own home or local gym...) you desire.

And those who have done it enough have heard the catcalls, insults and spurious warnings from the world around them. So for that amount of time, anywhere from one to six hours, on those Miami/Miami Beach streets, those 25,000 people were saying: 'I can quit if I feel like it, but you cannot say I don't belong here.'

And standing on the side of the road, as a rehabilitating runner, I was reminded the entire population, including the subsets described by John "The Penguin" Bingham - the "very fast," the "pretty fast," the "sort of fast," and the "penguins" - all belonged out there.

A couple of them held out their hand to swat a high five with me. I recognized one of my Marathon Maniac friends from the Christmas holidays. About five minutes later, my wife came by. Usually she's the one on the sideline and I'm the one racing.

"Go, honey! Go, honey! Go, honey! Go, honey!" I called out.

She looked at me and smiled. Sure, it was insane of her to be doing this, but she was having a good time.

The two gentlemen near her marveled at her one-man fan club, to which she replied, "I guess we can all be 'honey' today..."

Running might be an insane act, but don't ever let anyone say you don't belong out there.

If Mama Ain't Happy

So far I've been fortunate. The holiday season usually finds Suzanne and/or me nursing a bug of some kind by the week after Christmas...and by the first week of the new year at the latest. The difference, I think, is we followed a different schedule; spent time with people we normally do not see, did less than we felt we had to.

I used my mildly sociophobic tendencies as a lame excuse to try and keep myself healthy this season. My wife considers my sociophobia a load of bologna; I'm not so much sociophobic as I am socially-inept. The one edge of the proverbial two-edged sword was I did less social functions, saving me from needless exposure to stress and illness. The other edge was Suzanne was occasionally a little less-than pleased.

However, it's easier to make her happy when I decide to "hide." It's not always cheaper than the drugs, but it's easier on me than spending a miserable week on the couch in my warm-ups watching ESPN.

So, when Eric and I talked running during a Christmas social I had to remind him of the old Southern dictum: "If Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy."

Why would I bring up something so simple, especially when talking about running?

Most folks, knowingly or unknowingly, make some sort of commitment for the new year. Some call them resolutions. Others call them goals. Eric's goal is to complete a marathon in the future. He runs a few miles here and there, and we hit the trails once or twice a month with the local hash, so he's not a couch potato.

I first applauded Eric's ambition and his moxie, then began asking (like any good coach) a few gentle questions. "So, how many hours do you have free to train?" Eric deals with a full-time job, occasional travel demands, and Ashley. Ashley is Eric's wife. She works and is a college student. When he told me the (small) number of hours he had available I recommended he set a few interim goals, based on a shorter distance event or two, considering the time at his disposal.

How many persons train for endurance events at the risk of strained marriages, missed family functions, irritated and infuriated employers, and frayed friendships? Does a marathon finisher medal or tattoo mend broken fences and burned bridges? Not hardly.

Some coaches use the term "spousal approval unit," which is a lot like the "emotional bank account" Stephen Covey writes about in his book, Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. If all the time we have available to train without adversely affecting those relationships which make the rest of our life rewarding is small, there's nothing in the world that can increase that period of time.

There are some efficiencies which can help us to recoup time:

We can sleep less. At least to a certain point; there's that fine thin line where we hinder our body's ability to recover from workout efforts.

We can cut back on time-wasting activities, either at work or at home.

We can maximize the time we have available to train by cutting back on "junk miles" and focus on quality efforts.

It's less expensive, physically, financially and emotionally, to "keep Mama (or Papa!) happy" than it is to press forward with an unrealistic training plan or goal event. What do you do to keep your family members happy when you're training for an event?

"Blackhawk Down" Rules: The Lesser of Two Evils

My wife and I have run together nearly every Sunday morning over the past seven years. Of course it depends on how one defines the term "together." It's been a little more simple for us to plan since this most recent cycle of recovery/rehabilitation began during the beginning of the year. The distances have been shorter. The duration has been shorter. The pace has been somewhat more relaxed. This has also encouraged a couple of our (less-speedy) friends to run with us. We've developed the habit of a sixty-minute jog/shuffle/run/walk/saunter/traipse, followed by breakfast and more social interaction.

This, for me, can be a good or a bad situation. Depending on how we feel first thing in the morning Suzanne and I can differ in pace by a solid two-to-three minutes per mile. She's willing to walk with me on the days when I feel badly. I've sacrificed my "workout" on the rare occasion she's awakened feeling sore and beat. We cannot, however, run together. Any time we have tried to do this in the past the end result has never been positive.

There's no way you can force a person who runs a ten-minute-per-mile pace to run two minutes faster. Neither love, money, nor small arms can be used by any coach to repeal the (seemingly) immutable laws of physics...and of human physiology.

So it's then a choice between the lesser of two evils: Leave her behind on a run, or run at her (slower) pace. A runner can damage themselves not only by running much too fast, but also by running a pace that is much too slow. An individual runner's performance capabilities - maximal and minimal - are defined by physiological limitations. The biomechanical limits which affect stride length and turnover are much like the systems of a motor vehicle. Vehicles which have been designed for operation at higher levels of performance can be operated at a lower level of performance, just not for an extended period of time. Like a sports car or a muscle car is designed to be operated at a particular level, a runner who runs at a much slower pace than their stride mechanics are built for will either expend too much energy (bad!) through excess contraction and expansion of the large muscle groups or damage their "drive train" and/or "suspension" (worse) from excess strain on the smaller muscle groups of the lower extremities.

It doesn't take too many instances of running much too slow to damage a runner. I tried to run "with" Suzanne two years ago when we were in Hawai'i. Three 45-minute morning jogs at ten-minute mile pace led to a Thursday afternoon appointment with a massage therapist. Yes, I had fun chatting as we watched the early morning surfers and joggers in Ala Moana Park. Not at the cost of 50 bucks which could have been spent on other cool stuff.

I've also encouraged less-speedy runners to come run on Sunday mornings by instituting what I call "'Blackhawk Down ' Rules." We leave nobody straggling behind. A runner can go off the front if they feel sprightly, but heaven help you if someone is left to their own devices on the road. This attitude comes from being left to run solo from a porta-john two miles from the end a long run some years ago. It wasn't so much the two miles at race pace which upset me as much as what happened the following week; the same group let the teenage son of one of the members dangle blocks off the back of the pack.

Before the run starts, we talk about how long we need/want to go, in time or distance terms. If time, I use an out-and-back course, or a loop which is close to the length we would get on an out-and back. If a loop, the faster runners are charged to walk back toward the slower ones at the completion of the time period, unless they're at the end. If out-and-back, naturally, the group turns around at the half-time. In a perfect world everyone gets back to the start at nearly the same time. On a bigger loop, however, I've asked the faster group to turn back at mile splits or time splits to regroup with the slower runners. This way the faster runners definitely get more mileage and see the slower runners more often.

This morning, for example, I went out with one of my marathoners on the same 7.5-mile loop on which Suzanne and another one of my friends were training. By the time Jim and I hit the point where Suzanne had two miles left in the loop I joked we were running "ten the hard way." We finished the loop, then I walked back to meet up with the slower pairing...who were only two or three blocks from the parking lot where we started.

There are inconveniences to doubling back on a run to regroup with slower runners, but I feel it provides the opportunity for faster runners to see and encourage their group peers. And isn't encouragement part of the reason for which we run with others?

What Can That Be Lying In My Drawer? Running Shirts

Suzanne has a couple of bags sitting in the corner of the bedroom; she intends to leave them for pick up by the local thrift store. Guess that means I can finally abandon the fleeting hope of fitting into two or three pairs of walking shorts I've had tucked away for the past four or five years.

I liked those shorts, but I guess there was little to no chance of getting back into them. Not without a crowbar. I'm not going to blame it on the difficult-to-prove fact cotton can shrink over the course of ten years. I'm also not going to blame it on the easier-to-prove fact I'm close to the beginning of a middle-age spread. Not as close as I was last year, but still close.

It's all right. I've got a lot of shirts which should have NEVER come through the front door of my home lurking in my closet. There are a dozen ties which will be out the door faster than you can say "Jimmy Buffett."

Most of all, I have more t-shirts than any one man should EVER have.

I'm not ridding myself of the technical fiber running shirts, nor the ones I earned while running college cross-country. Those shirts still fit me like a champ.

I'm parting ways with the two dozen cotton t-shirts which lay at the bottom of my bottom dresser drawer, the ones from races way past. Which got me to thinking about shirts.

A friend from the local running community once said on a Wednesday evening run the factors he considered necessary for a perfect race: An accurate course. Plenty of beer. Accurate timing and scoring. A good shirt.

Like Socrates, asking the question of what particular quality or qualities makes a shirt good is not going to make you friends with race directors. The vast majority of races where we live either have what I consider to be great or poor shirts. I prefer to judge a shirt on these qualities:

Wearability. This particular quality places some shirts on a very fast track to the donation bag. Long-sleeved "windshirts" and cotton "wife-beater" tank tops are at the bottom of the wearability spectrum. Solid or near-solid-colored short-sleeved (or sleeveless) shirts...even if they're dark...are better, in my humble opinion. And, why do I rarely if ever see a race shirt in a heather gray or a tan? From the race director's view, white is less expensive to buy and less expensive to screenprint. Please. I beg you. Less beer; better shirts. Trust me...I'll be happy.

While I'm on the "anti-white-shirt" rant, don't want anyone to think I'm not patriotic, but shirts for events around Independence Day loaded with American flags, red, white and blue, fireworks, firecrackers, and the like are absolutely NOT wearable. Except on the Fourth of July. Let's start to use a little bit of artistic imagination.

Artwork. How many times have you gone to a race and seen the same artwork recycled from year to year? One particular race has variants of the club's mascot; in their defense, the past three or four years they have seen fit to commission very good artists. But if you do a race over the course of a few years there's only so many ways you can tweak a logo.

There's a race I've run a couple of times in which the awards are what I've heard described by local runners as "shirt-on-a-stick." Yes, it's the race shirt mounted on a wood-frame, much like a canvas. To the event's credit, the artwork is a take on one of those gorgeous Gulf Coast sunsets. However, if I'm running well "enough" I'll have the art on the wall, which means I won't consider wearing the art on my chest. Ah, but it's a white, cotton "wife-beater" so I guess that's a moot point. To the donation bag.

Advertising. Who sponsored this race? In so many words: who paid for this shirt? The location and size of the logos can push the decision of whether the shirt gets to stick around for a few years. One of the first races I ever worked, a college cross-country program fundraiser, was sponsored by a law firm. The printer conveniently forgot to print the firm's name, so we had to send the shirts back for a re-printing. We made the printer pay penance for the crime by printing the law firm's name and information on the sleeve, nice and high.

Some of the local runs seem to have a thing against either too many sponsors - or too many sponsor logos perhaps - on their event shirts. I'm not certain as to particular reasons, except for perhaps aesthetics...or economics.

Speaking of printer screw-ups, the shirt for the local 5K prediction run, one of the largest in the country, had the word "STAFF" conveniently placed on the back about three years ago. What possessed the printer to do that, I'll never know. Perhaps it was due to a communications breakdown. But it's one of those things which makes people hang on to shirts.

Value. Suzanne and I are most likely to hang on to a shirt, regardless of how badly it was designed or how cheaply it was produced, if it came from a race we did as part of a business trip, or an RRCA convention, perhaps a personal best...or personal worst...are hung on to a little bit longer than others. In fact, many of them are neatly folded and tucked away in a closet which I don't go near, save for right before Thanksgiving and right after New Years'. There are a couple of windshirts and rain parkas in the mix, so the shirt type doesn't matter too much.

The race shirt, especially the really good race shirt, is an inexpensive and enduring method of event advertising. Good shirts stay around and draw the attention of runners. Bad shirts draw the grease from bicycle chains and the dirt from automobile hubcaps. Both have a value, but to different communities.

Think about your favorite race shirt. What makes it special? Why is it still in your drawer?

Running Mad - Does Stress Help Runners?

Consider me a modern-day "Martin," travel-and-adventure companion of Candide in Voltaire's short story of the same name.

I'm the anchor-like balance to my wife's "best of all possible worlds" point of view. We balance each other quite well, and have done so over the past eight-and-a-half years. My bad days normally coincide with her positive moods; the moments Suzanne feels like ripping out the hearts of her adversaries like an Aztec priestess are balanced by my 'karma happens; they'll receive their just reward soon enough' attitude.

Fortunately for the world around us, both Bowens are rarely in a cranky mood. But when those days come, it's usually the perfect timing for a workout.

I had banged my head against the desk all day yesterday, and suffered the slings and arrows of outrageous commuter misadventure. What is it about idiots who want to whip around you, just so they can sit in front of you at the intersection? 'Oh, goody, you get a cookie for making it to the stoplight first. Now you can sit there as long as I do, jerk.'

I came through the front door to see my loving bride seated at her computer, running gear on. No greeting, save for "I really need to hit the treadmill today."

Funny, but that's exactly how I felt.

Minutes later, we walked the half-mile to our neighborhood gym, which gave Suzanne the opportunity to vent about the major topics of the day. When she mentioned she had eight telephone calls interrupt her labors I had to admit a small twinge of guilt; I was responsible for 25-percent of them. Well, the calls seemed pretty darn important at the time.

Once we got to the gym, we attacked the treadmills; taking no prisoners, giving no quarter, leaving nothing behind but sweat.

Returning home didn't mean the end. We immediately leashed my sister-in-law's terrier and our greyhound and took them for a walk. We took no doo-doo from them, either, pun intended. It wasn't until some time close(r) to 7:30 when we finally relaxed enough to sit down for dinner.

Suzanne has told me she enjoys working out or racing while she's angry. One of her best half-marathon performances - or one of her best performances in a half-marathon, I cannot rightly recall - came after a younger woman made a wise crack about her age at the bottom of a hill. She put on a surge which amazed the course worker at the to the top of the hill, coasting through the remainder of the course under a full head of steam. Suzanne, nor the course workers, recalled seeing the younger woman nearby for the remainder of the race.

On the other hand, I consider anger or other emotions a fuel good only for very short-term endeavors. All those chemicals which contribute to the classic fight-or-flight response may light off the afterburners, but they also cause a few less-than-positive consequences:

First, the breathing becomes more shallow. I'm not so certain about you, but I have enough difficulties keeping enough air in my lungs during the course of a 5,000-meter road race. So, stressing out doesn't work so well for me cardiovascular-wise.

Second, the muscles are tensed up in order to either kick, swing, pummel, bludgeon or withstand a kicking, swinging, pummelling or bludgeoning. Tense muscles are inefficient muscles...we do speed training to learn how to run at speed in as relaxed a manner as possible, not in as tight a manner as possible.

Third, the brain tends to think less critically. It's one of the unintended consequences of all that nice adrenaline, epinephrine, cortisol, cholesterol, glucose...and the many other chemicals pumped into our bloodstream by our endocrine system. Anyone who has ever been in a life-or-death situation will say they probably were thinking of little else but how to get to the nearest egress. And thinking, serious status checking, is crucial for road racing...especially when the race distance moves from 5k to 10k, from 10k to 21k, and so on. Lapses in thought can cost seconds and minutes.

So, remember that running ought to be the release from the stress of the day, not an extension of the stressors.

When The Training Triad Fails...

This weekend has been a challenge and a joy when it comes to my own training. I had a couple of local hare-and-hounds runners (two different kennels) socially (network) commit to the weekly Sunday morning long(ish) run, so I was really looking forward to the motivational benefits of running with a couple of guys who are closer to my pace.

Usually, the long run is an opportunity for some time with my wife. I'll run a few miles solo, then trail back to where my wife is on the course. Eventually my run turns into a walk with her. Some suggest I should take my "very easy" days and do those with Suzanne. Love my wife, but she's just a little bit slower than I; running with her in the past has come at a cost. A jaunt around Ala Moana Park in Waikiki , just months after a horrible marathon experience, not only reminded me of the fragile state of my achilles' tendon but tied up my hamstring in the process...to the degree I had to hunt down the Hilton's massage therapist mid-week.

So, we both agree she can not an active part of my training triad. She's an elemental part of the training group I coach, and of my coaching process, though.

The rainy conditions which began in earnest this week dropped the temperatures a few degrees, from nearly-infernal to what I've found a temperature on the high end of tolerable, somewhere around 82 degrees. I'm not certain what the temps were this morning when I got to the park where we normally start our loop, but the rain was a cool rain, making me think a little about several things:

"Should I wear a shirt for the run?" I had worn a long-sleeved technical top on the drive, and thought it might help to retain some warmth. If it was a month ending in "R" the decision might have been wise. But, we're still talking August. Also, I began to think about how heavy that shirt would have felt about 45 minutes after the start of the run. Yeah...that's okay.

Before that question, though, I was asking myself, "Should I bag the idea of a solo run on the loop, drive to the gym near the house, and give my new iPod application from Marathon Nation, Run Roulette, a go?" The Run Roulette app provides up-to-40 different workouts in five categories, ranging from 30-to-90 minutes in duration. Run Roulette also tracks which workouts you've completed, and - if you're the type of person who likes to publicize your super-secret training runs - sends status messages by way of Twitter and/or Facebook. I don't use a lot of applications and really am not at a loss for workout ideas for myself, but I downloaded the free Lite version from the iTunes Store for those days when I get stuck on the treadmill and need a little diversity in my running. Who knows? My F.A.S.T. Pensacola athletes might see something from RR in the future.

So, in spite of Chris Carmichael's advice to ensure someone to train with on a regular basis by developing a training triad, Murphy has a great deal of influence (or anti-influence) on a drizzly Sunday morning. It's always easier to hit the snooze button and roll over when you hear the hiss of rain outside the bedroom window. That's not an indictment of anyone. That's fact. I've done it on more than my share of occasions.

When the triad fails, your catchphrase needs to change from "Leave No Man Behind" to "Semper Gumby". "Always flexible"...another way to say "suck it up, buttercup; you got to do something on a Sunday morning."

Three (At Least) Is A Magic Number

"And if one prevail against him two shall withstand him; and a threefold cord is not quickly broken." - Solomon (Ecclesiastes, ch.4, v.12, King James Bible)

I consider my wife, Suzanne, the ideal sounding board or test platform for a training progression on which I might be working out the details. She also serves as a first-line critique of how I am doing as a coach. It doesn't matter that she's not a top-shelf or elite athlete; she provides (brutally) honest feedback in the diplomatic manner that only a spouse can get away with saying...once I've replaced my "coach" hat with my "husband" hat. I began learning to coach runners about the same time we married, so our relationship and my coaching have developed (and hit rough patches) in varying degrees over that time.

Suzanne is often like every athlete; sometimes they will come to me with a situation or a problem which has been over-analyzed & I have to say, "no, I think the problem really is this..." Other times she reminds me to pay attention to what she (or the athletes) are saying/doing/not saying/not doing.

There also are days, especially the ones when we show up to the venue where we intend to run & it's too hot/cold/humid/windy/crowded/dark - at least in the minds of the group, because they didn't show - leaving only a pair (us) standing in the parking lot. Those days are the most depressing for me, because then I feel time I spent commuting could have been more effectively used as a warm-up/cool-down walk to/from the gym only a few blocks away. I can suck it up & hammer out a workout on my own, but often it's not that much fun...alone. I'm more likely to say "stuff it, I'll go hit the gym rather than it be just us two out here." Suzanne will gently goad me into sticking it out, & most of the time it will be a decent workout...but I'm not really happy about it at the start.

Yesterday morning, she decided to run our Sunday morning loop the opposite direction from me, so she could turn around & we could finish together. It gave me the opportunity to think about my training, the conditions (slowly!) changing from summer to autumn, & to focus on putting one foot in front of the other for a solid five miles. Then we walked, jogged, & ran the last three miles together, chatting during the slower moments. She asked me why I had not written much on the benefit of training in groups. Face it, humans are social creatures. That's the reason running clubs & training groups came to being. It's that "misery loves company" thing...the same reason we remember & often keep up with people we served with in the military, or took algebra with in high school. It's easier to look forward to a session of 800-meter repeats on the track, or hill repeats, or a long, grinding run in the middle of nowhere when you know there's going to be someone around to make you laugh at the worst places on the run. Yep, it could be 90 degrees & 90 percent humidity for 90 straight days, but you'll suck it up & do it because someone else is counting on you to show up & help make their run a little less miserable. And who knows? There might even be a meal & recapitulation of the event immediately following. That definitely gets me out of bed.

Matthew Henry, in his commentary on the "three-fold cord", was focused more on the union of two with a divine third party joining in, but I like to believe that Chris Carmichael, Lance Armstrong's coach, was more correct in the need for a union of three...especially when it comes to training. It's easy to hit the snooze button & roll over when you train alone, perhaps a little less so when a second person is involved. But it's almost guaranteed that if three athletes are going to show up at the same place & time the workout will certainly happen. A triad of training athletes also helps in the event life gets in the way...flat tire, sick child, power outage...odds are good in those situations there will be at least one other training partner showing up for that session.
Borrowing from Henry: In all things a union of individuals leads to success & safety. A union of three (or more) athletes is powerful because they assist each other by encouragement, or friendly reproof. They warm each other's hearts while they converse together, or rejoice in each others' accomplishments.

The Greeter of the Pack

Another weekend in the great out-of-doors has ended. While there's still a bit of a chill in the air, there's no doubt spring is just around the corner. While it's still difficult to get myself motivated and out the door some mornings, at least I don't feel so badly about it once I'm on the move. Suzanne managed to somehow talk me into a near-instant replay of last Saturday's run: Do three miles to a coffee joint, stop for a cup & a bite, then do three miles back to the house. Seemed like a lousy idea at first; Weather Channel had the conditions listed as in the low 40s with a wind chill in the high 30s. While I had my Garmin & my HR strap on to keep track of the important data it wasn't the be all, end all for the morning. Suzanne wanted to get out of the house for a run & she wanted to have coffee. So be it.

Fortunately, the sun was bright, the air was slowly warming up & the sidewalks even seemed like a welcoming environment. It wasn't Esplanade Avenue to Community Coffee or the 5:20 Club, but it was close enough. The very combination of ingredients, including the presence of my loving wife, was just enough to make the morning's first effort seem like just enough.
Once we got back to the house the trials of real life, such as they are in Chez' Bowen, reared their head once more: Walk the dog, get the last-minute business accomplished, fit the swim workout in & go work packet pick-up in Gulf Breeze for Sunday's Midway 8K.

Sunday was just as nice, but the solo 10-miler hurt like hell. Perhaps it was still too soon since the half-marathon to do that many miles as a long run, but I can never tell when I'm going to have a nice Sunday morning...so... Home to walk the dog, then clean up & get some breakfast before heading over to the race to set up. Okay, so I forgot my laptop & had to go back home for it; I owe the company a round of brewskies for that transgression. I never forget my "coach hat", my "RRCA rep hat", and my soapbox. And I got to use them all yesterday at the event.
A young lady asked the inevitable question about headphone use at the registration table. Beverly was almost dead-on accurate with her response; I think she's heard my sermonizing as much as Steven has. We mentioned to her that as a RRCA event club, & because our event was covered by RRCA's event insurance, we were obliged to strongly discourage her from using the headphones. However, we were only going to strongly discourage her because of the inherent safety risks; she was going to run on a course which was not completely closed to traffic. While we did have volunteer workers at as many intersections as possible (another topic for future rumination - volunteers...) we could not completely guarantee her safety in the event an insane (or even sane!) motor vehicle operator decided to suddenly overtake her.

As a small event we want to develop a clientele. We also want to help educate runners & triathletes on safe practices. The first baby step we can do, & intend to do, is mention the hazards the headphones can cause...especially if the volume is jacked up so high the wearer cannot hear. (I still laugh at the comment of the masters' winner: He was doing a cool-down on the course with his phones on, & heard my car's stereo blaring about a quarter mile away from where he was. I thanked him for keeping the volume down low enough to hear his surroundings.) It's not like we have a means to enforce such a policy right now. But if we begin to tell participants it's hazardous to use those things, perhaps when we put a prohibition statement on a race flyer they'll abide by the request.

Okay, I'm off the soapbox for now. My wife has always told me I should participate in a race from the rear of the field in order to see (as Jacob Riis might have put it:) how the other pack lives. Since the local constabulary sent only one patrolman to cover the course, the race director & I were responsible for the lead & follow vehicles. George took the lead vehicle; I had the follow. There's a whole different dynamic when you're following walkers, compared to the elbows-&-a$$#@(@s pack you see at the front end of a race. I suspected I was going to spend the next 60-to-75 minutes following along with the walk division. Close, but not close enough, moose-breath. The last participant took a little over 90 minutes. That was the bad news. Was there good news? Kinda-sorta.

The weather was wonderful. We're talking roll-the-window-down,-lean-your-elbow-out-the-window-because-hanging-your-whole-head-out-would-look-silly wonderful. Unfortunately, I couldn't find a good radio station to play outside of the local NPR stations. Ah, one of those moments where I kick myself in the butt for leaving my favorite CDs at home...& not snagging up Suzanne's iPod to plug in the accessory jack, Jack. Oh, and this lady wanted so badly to give up at the first half-mile. She turned to look at me and wave me on forward, but I told her I was the follow vehicle, & while she was the last participant she was going to make it just fine. I didn't want to tell her how badly it would bite to not finish an eight-kilometer walk. So, I rolled along just behind her with the flashers flashing, plucking up course signs after she passed.

When she got to the last half mile to go, her husband came out to walk along with her. I continued to do my thing & she continued to do hers. At the last 100 yards before the finish, I rolled along side her & called out: "You know what that feeling is right now? What you're feeling is accomplishment!"

After that, I rolled into the parking lot & made a beeline for a beer & some italian bread. My day was pretty much complete. I can't say I picked up any observations from the @$$-end of the field, save for the fact that sometimes it's just something to finish...which was more than I could say for the two teenagers who turned off the course a block ahead of the woman an hour before her finish.

Things A Real New Orleans Runner Will Never Tell You

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Resolution Versus Resolve

res-o-lu-tion -n. - 1. a formal expression of opinion or intention made, usually after voting, by a formal organization, a legislature, a club, or other group. 2. a resolve or determination: to make a firm resolution to do something. 3. the act of resolving or determining upon an action or course of action, method, procedure, etc. 4. the mental state or quality of being resolved or resolute; firmness of purpose.
Naturally, with the passing of the old Gregorian calendar year & the start of the new one comes a well-worn & often useless activity. More often than not this activity consists of two steps: Whine like a seven-year-old school girl about the failure, shortcoming, or character flaw which boiled to the surface in the past year. Make some cockamamie - & often unattainable - promise to transform failure into success, shortcoming into strength, & character flaw into character-reinforcing trait...oh, & all within the scope of the next 365 days.

After hearing too many of my old contemporaries go through this song-and-dance I resolved to do two things in years past: Rather than make any resolutions at the new year, I would engage in continuous improvement. When confronted by a person making a resolution without a reasonable goal...or a plan of action to reach it...I would challenge them to either develop & execute a realistic plan to achieve a reasonable goal or call them on their obvious lack of seriousness.

It makes me a little unpopular at holiday parties & races, to say the least.

My wife & I were sitting in a dining establishment on the beach the other day, talking about what we would like to achieve in the new year. She spent the previous Friday evening socializing with her closest friend, celebrating one of those milestone birthdays, & had partaken of a little more of the fermented, grain-derived beverages than she would have preferred...at least when seen in the light of the "elephantine" feeling she had during her Sunday morning long run. When your Friday evening beer intake slows you down all the way to midday Sunday, I guess you could say that is enough beer.

I'm not going to get all self-righteous here & say I don't like beer. In fact, I love beer. I'm in firm agreement with Benjamin Franklin and the Warsteiner brewery: Beer is proof that God loves us & wants us to be happy. Oh, and, life is too short to drink cheap beer.

My coach's coach, Bob Schul, never liked his athletes drinking beer. Bob was of the opinion beer made for slower running; of course, when you're a slow runner in the first place, what's the big deal? But as I've read more medical-based research in the past year, in running, triathlon & swimming magazines, it has finally sunk in through my thick skull that beer might be proof of the Almighty's compassion toward humanity, but can do a number on a human being's recovery from workouts. Who knew alcohol could slow the production of human growth hormone & delay workout recovery? And when you get to be my age, approaching a milestone birthday faster than I care to admit, recovery takes just a little longer.

But you're not going to see me do a complete & utter cut-back to no beer whatsoever. Ben Franklin might not have been into running, cycling or swimming fast, but he knew a good deal about human nature. Face it...life is short & we are dead a long time. So, if there's going to be beer passing my lips, it will pass my lips less often, & it will be of higher quality.

So for me, while 2009 was a year of trial & error, 2010 is more likely going to be a year of returning a little closer to the tried & true. Longer, easier stuff on the easy days; shorter, intense stuff on the hard days. Recovery as often as practicable. Cross-training as often as possible. And fun as often as I can get away with it. Because...if it isn't fun, then why the hell am I doing it?

Easy Days

Sounds like the kind of place I want to spend some time in this time next year. Ah, but that will depend mostly on the wishes of COMNAVWIFELANT, also known as "Mrs. Java," "Coffee-Mate," or..."she who must be obeyed."

Fortunately for me, this years' endurance challenges smoothly segued into:
1. a reasonable level of training, namely the building of a right solid base, and
2. my wife's wish to run another half-marathon after a year's hiatus from systematic training.

So, I took the challenge of being husband and coach all at the same time...again...and got her back into the run training regimen she had a couple of years ago. Suzanne's strength is the ability to (like the Energizer Bunny) go for a consistent pace over an extended period of time. Brute, blistering speed is not her forte.

The biggest challenge for her, unfortunately, is the fact she is one of the few at her ability level who enjoys doing what I like to assign (to my athletes); moderate-distance training sessions of up to an hour two-or-three times a week, with speed work once-or twice a week. Oh, yes, don't forget the run of at least an hour once a week. That means she spends a lot of time doing her workouts alone. At least I can find someone within 30 seconds/mile pace to run with me...most of the time. However, since the middle of last month I've made a conscious effort to run easy with her at least once a week.

Don't know how many of you have ever tried to run a minute-to-two minutes/mile slower than your average training pace, but it can be a little painful. Especially after 60 minutes. I dreaded the prospect of those first runs at such a sedate pace, remembering vividly the damage I did to myself along Waikiki a couple of years back. All right, I have to admit part of the problem had to do with the fact I was in very old running shoes...and had recently done damage to my achilles at the beach half-marathon.

But once I figured out how to do the right thing - run for a period of time/distance, then turn and run back to my wife - everything went well. As it was, she was never really more than about two blocks back from me over the course of a single mile, so I could gently jog back. It also allowed her to know the exact route which we were going to use for a six-mile run, or an eight-mile run, or what the route for the distance she needed to cover was going to be (GPS plus Google Maps equals a very good estimate of how far you've gone.).

This particular attitude persisted over the last month, with other runners who are a little faster than my wife also benefiting from the small change in my training regimen. As they've come out they've had the opportunity to learn the loop we train on & build their confidence.

So, what has it done to my speed? Well, I ratcheted up the pace the other night on the beach, doing a 6.2-mile loop. The first mile or two were in the 7:30/mile pace, after that the splits started to come down between 5-and-7 seconds a mile, until I was running the last two miles in the high-six minute/mile range. Yes, it hurt. But it was a good hurt. I hadn't been at that particular pace for about two, or maybe three, months. But I also hadn't done any real speed work since September, either.

So, if you want to develop speed you need to learn how to run comfortably at speed. But once you've learned how it feels, you can't be hurt by emphasizing the runs which maintain base fitness.

When Things Come To A Head

Feels like the end of the tunnel has been reached, so to speak. In the past I've always managed to survive the stretch from Thanksgiving to right around Christmas without catching whatever nasty cold or flu or creeping crud was circulating. However, this year was a major change in the immunity, or susceptibility to the stuff, I guess. I don't think my training volume changed all that much this year, & it's not like I was over-fatigued from IM FL. But I got something before the holidays, pretty much the same cold/flu bug/crud (more like upper respiratory infection, head cold, low-grade fever kind of stuff) I have visit days after Christmas.

The timing was nearly perfect...and not so perfect; it all hit like a ton of bricks last week when I was scheduled for a general practitioner's appointment. Unfortunately, it stuck around & became more noxious through the weekend's tri club party/meeting - if the photos taken showed I looked like I rolled out of a sickbed to quaff a couple of beers, well, that's because I did. The bad news is I don't feel like doing anything that resembles exercise. The good news is I didn't have any major plans for this month, anyhow.

At least that's what my body is telling me. My mind, on the other hand...wanted to jump in on the weekend's masters' swim meet a couple of days back. Hey, it would have been warmer in the water than on the deck, but I doubted hacking a six-pound loogie at the end of the 800-yard freestyle would have been a pretty sight. Some times you have to be smarter than your desire.

So, other than a couple of brief walks around the park with the wife & the woofer, my exercise regimen has been limited to a single set of 12-ounce elbow bends each evening.

Plan out your holiday period as judiciously as you would plan any other training period. It's a time to spend with family, friends, co-workers, but make certain you don't run yourself directly into the ground. I make a conscious effort to decline invitations...as nicely as possible...if I feel the schedule has become too hectic. All the same, I try not to become too bunged up if I can't get everyone to show up at a single social function.

As for the training, it's a great time to run, bike or swim with people you normally wouldn't train. We've got local runs which occur at the same time as our track workout; I'm not one to give carte blanche & say, 'go ahead and run with that group,' but if the change of pace gives you a new perspective on your training...

Making Good on Threats

Run races for long enough, & eventually there are several risks which can become clearly apparent:

First, the risk of over-racing.

Second, the risk of over-partying.
Third, the risk of having too many race t-shirts.

The first two can hurt you really good. The third is much less of a physical threat, unless you try to carry out the entire ten-year race shirt stash in one fell swoop. I've talked about over-racing & over-partying in the past, but I don't think I've ever talked about the serious problem of having too many race t-shirts.

The problem is not so much having too many shirts as much as it is having too many plain white, generic-design race shirts. What is it with race directors who think they can get away with a minor - or no - variation of the same race logo every year? (All right, we were guilty of the same thing with our triathlon shirt, but they were colored & it's only the second year for the event.) As you approach the Fourth of July/Independence Day holiday season you can guarantee something that has some cheesy flag motif splashed all over the son of a gun. Death by overdose of red, white & blue...bleah...
Come on, guys. Let's use a little bit of imagination here. It's as bad as sponsoring a womens' exposition & calling it something like Sisters For Life. Sorry, I know my sister would barf at the thought of some of the girly-girl stuff displayed at such a shindig. Even the name would probably send her into an apoplectic fit.

Some of the guys I know who are also race directors would tell me, 'Mike, it costs too much to use a shirt that isn't cotton/white/plain print/(fill in the blank). We would take a major loss.' I've also known races which were awful courses, in awful conditions, during awful times of the year...had great shirts, good post-race parties, and efficient scoring. Now a great shirt might not make up for a crummy race, but the individual participant is more likely to wear the son of a gun out in public. Don't tell me anyone wears those white cotton wife-beaters I've seen given for local summer races.

You can only do two things - perhaps three - with a shirt like that. One is use it for bicycle maintenance. Or you can save them for those foreign mission trips...but then, I can hear the cries of the poor souls out in the mission field: 'what is this!?' So, rather than inflict undue punishment upon some poor souls out in the developing world, I think I'd rather use the plain white shirt as a pallette for the use of my imagination.

We had threatened to do something like this a couple of years ago when we first moved into our house. The pile of plain white cotton race shirts were growing exponentially and the no shirt option had not become popular. I joked about how we needed to do something cool with the shirts...like, say, tie dye them so we could stand to go out in public in a shirt that had a little character.

My wife decided the best way to do something like this was to make it a social thing. She's the kind of person who doesn't mind going out in public in a shirt with character, like a tie-dyed one...but she likes being a trend-(re)setter, too. Give her the chance to start a mini-revolution & she is all over the idea. She wanted to get rid of some of the excess stuff around the house, so it seemed only logical to her to have a yard sale/tie-dye party. She knew she could talk a few of her close friends, as well as my training partner & his wife, into joining in on the fun.

So, we sat out under a canopy in the driveway, basking in the warmth, socializing between customers & turning our excess into eccentricity. Nothing like a little bit of arts & crafts to bring out the inner hippie in everyone...without the threat of upcoming drug testing to dampen our spirits. If you're smart about the process of tie-dyeing, after a little trial and error, you can use the shirt design to your advantage. If it doesn't work, it's not like you have lost anything either...more bike maintenance cloths, right?

Hanging On Coattails, Standing On Shoulders

As part of my wife's present employment, she has the opportunity to meet & collaborate with several of the smartest people who work in the telecommunications industry, both here & abroad. Sometimes it means a great deal of travel for far away locations. After last year, where she spent 25 weeks somewhere else other than in close proximity to her adopted greyhound, she decided to be more selective as to the places she would travel for business.

Face it, in the 21st century, we have the technology to take care of most business functions virtually, with varied degrees of face-to-face interaction. We can conference call, have web-meetings, share document storage spaces, & so on. However, just like virtual coaching requires an agreed sharing of communication, and individual responsibility, but can be a pale substitute for in your face coaching, virtual business operations sometimes are not as good as that face time, too.

So, it wasn't too much of a surprise when the organizers of a womens' business seminar in Malaysia learned my wife was going to be relatively close by (Singapore) when their seminar is convening. They graciously offered to fly the missus over for the day so she could make a presentation, then fly her back. A mind-blower for Suzanne, because more often than not, she's offering to go places (on her company's dime) to talk about her role in the industry, how she's managed to learn so much tech stuff (as a non-techie), & so on.

Her business partner said, in so many words: 'cool. How about you take my wife over with you, so she can talk about her point of view?' When I heard this, I was appalled at the chutzpah of my wife's business partner. In my mind, my wife has not busted her @$$ for the past ten years developing a reputation in the telecom industry & made all these connections...so her business partner can justify sending wife-number-two on a junket by hanging on the coattails of my wife's hard-earned reputation. How dare he?
Sometimes a coach (or athlete) has to let their reputation stand on its own & not hang on that of a better-known partner. After a couple of (coaching) generations it's almost silly to attach a program or an individual coach's reputation (directly) to that of the forebears; Lydiard, Cerruty, Igloi, Daniels, Henderson, Higdon, Pfitzinger, McMillan, Galloway...

Once you move out a couple of "coaching generations"; say, your coach's coach is even two generations out from the theorists, you (or I, as a coach) have to be smart enough to say 'here are my influences' for a number of reasons: First, the layman may or may not have the first clue of the "genealogy", & probably doesn't care that your coach's coach's coach trained world record holders, world champions, Olympic medalists & Olympians. Second, almost every coach collaborates or rips off from more than one coach throughout their career. Third, the individual coach's success may...or may not...have to do with other factors which could (or could not) have been under their control; individual athletes, facilities, technologies, just to name a few.

As Karl Marx was reputed to have said near his death, 'I am not a Marxist.' Lots of people claim paternity, but how many of the fathers are willing to claim the progeny in return?