Tough Turkey and Gobble Gallop Race Reports

My fiancee and I decided to head up to Duluth and celebrate Thanksgiving with my parents this year. After some consideration, we decided to go up the night before: that way, we could sign up for the Gobble Gallop Thursday morning. Unfortunately, while I successfully signed G up for the Gobble Gallop 5k, I accidentally signed myself up for the accompanying Tough Turkey 1 mile, which would take place 20 minutes before the 5k. 

Since the organizers are two friends of mine from church growing up (I can’t remember meeting them), I figured there would be no issue signing up for the 5k as well as the 1 mile. My training plan called for a 1 mile time trial and a 20 minute time trial, and while it also called for a few days’ rest between them, I figured this might work for both. 

True to my expectation, there was no issue at all signing up for an additional race last-minute. My friend Grant, completely overestimating my abilities and fitness level, asked me if I was going for the course record, which is pretty “soft” at a little over 15 minutes. 

After my last 5k, I wasn’t quite sure where I would end up in these races. I knew that my time between races would basically be a run back to the car to switch up my race numbers before jumping back out on the course for the 5k, so I decided to take it as a warm up for the 5k, and just see how it went. With the last-minute signup for the 5k, I didn’t have much time for a warm up in any case, so I figured there was no chance of a decent time or position in the mile. I opted to shoot for a sub-6 mile (which I figured should feel easy) and a sub-20 5k. Given my relative lack of serious training, I thought those would be good targets. 

My goal for a slowish start in the mile turned out to be unavoidable: the front of the field was packed with somewhere around 30 children sprinting off the line. One younger guy from NDU took off in the lead (he was running both the mile and the 5k as well), and several others tried to stick with him. Rather than race, I opted to settle into a fast cruising speed and wait for a while. The course was an out and back, starting from Duluth Running Company on London Road before veering left onto Superior street to the turnaround around Fitgers. All along Superior Street, I was feeling comfortable at around 6 minute pace, gradually reeling in runners who had started too quickly. With the final drop back onto London Road, I figured I’d kick it up a notch and bring it home at higher speed. 

Turns out, that worked out pretty well, and I cruised home in third at around 5:53 on the watch. One part I had not expected was the pure number of people cheering for me by name in the home stretch. I guess that’s what happens when you race in your hometown for the first time. As it turns out, two of those cheering were my parents, who showed up in time to see me finish. Since I had very little time, though, I crossed the finish line and just kept running the three blocks to my car to switch numbers for the 5k. Unfortunately, this left my parents very confused behind me. 

Fortunately, that went quickly, thanks in large part to G meeting me with my number in hand. After a quick run back to the car (again) to retrieve my gloves, I lined up in the 3rd row of about 2000 runners (!) who showed up on what had fast become a cold, slightly windy, slightly snowy Thanksgiving morning. There was no gun, just the announcer counting down (if I remember correctly), and unfortunately, in the process of getting under the starting arch with 2000 other people, I must not have crossed the timing mat. 

As ever, I started a little too quickly, but not out of the realm of sanity, and I quickly corrected and settled into a solid 6 to 6:10 pace down Superior Street. I say “down,” because the first section of Superior runs downhill to Lake Ave, before a slight uphill for 5 blocks to the turnaround at 5th Ave West. I slowed down just a bit on the uphill, but I was starting to steadily reel in more runners who had started just a bit too quickly. 

The fatigue started to hit me just a bit at around 2 miles into the 5k, or about 5k into my racing for the day. This was the first point where I had to concentrate at all on my pace, and I let it slip for just a few meters. For the entire race, I had been just behind the lead woman (“Anna,” who many other runners knew by name), and I passed her around 2 miles into the race, only to be passed by another woman.  Still, I was passing runner after runner who had apparently overestimated their fitness. As it turns out, another friend of mine from church growing up ended up as 2nd woman, some 5 seconds behind me. 

Once again, I kicked it up at the turn onto London Road, which is around 300 or so meters from the finish. Despite the brief moment of fatigue at 2 miles, I still felt pretty good at the end of the race. The large number of people cheering me by name (again), at the finish area help as well. At the end, I crossed the line at 19:30 on the watch, feeling like I could have run a good 45 seconds faster without too much difficulty. 

After finishing, I got the chance to talk with Grant a little bit as I walked over to the tent to grab some coffee and warm up a bit. He seemed a little surprised that I was back as far as I was, having more confidence in my abilities than I do myself. And thinking on it, perhaps he was right. I think I get too focused on where I think I should be, or what I think I can do, and don’t let myself achieve what I’m capable of. The fact that I can rattle off a 19:30 5k less than 20 minutes after finishing a (decently) fast mile gives me some confidence, particularly given the training I’ve been doing. 

Coffee now in hand, I proceeded to walk back along the course to find my fiancee in the crowd of runners still racing. True to form, she had jumped into the race on a whim, with no training, and with the goal to have fun before settling in for Thanksgiving. True to our last Turkey Trot-style race, I ran back along the course and took the chance to run/walk in with her, which for me is usually the favorite part of the race. 

Thinking ahead, I think I might still do a few more shorter races in the next few months. I’d forgotten how much fun I have with them, and how little they really interfere with the rest of my training. I’m also considering entering a number of shorter trail races over the next year (short here meaning anything below about 25k, or around 2 hours or shorter). 

My sights remain set on the Border Route Trail for next fall, however. 

Race Report: Tiger Trail 5k

A few weeks ago, on a whim, I signed up for a race: a 5k that came up in the Minneapolis Running monthly race calendar, run as a fundraiser for a local nordic ski team. At 5k, it was 1/4th of the distance of my shortest race since moving to Minnesota two years ago, and less than 10% of my longest race to date. But, it seemed like a fun course, for a good cause, and more importantly I thought it might get me pumped up for running again. 

Going into the race, I was feeling pretty fast, given my low level of conditioning. I was hitting 5:30 pace in striders and intervals without noticing the effort all that much, though the intervals were never longer than a block or two. My short tempo runs had all ended up at under 7-minute pace for 3 or 4 miles. I figured I could probably run a decent 5k in under 20 minutes.

I was wrong. 

Getting to Theo Wirth Park on Saturday morning, I saw the ski team running around and goofing off (as they do). I started to think that I was about to get my ass handed to me by a bunch of high-schoolers (pardon my language). I was none too concerned about this, as I was anticipating this somewhat even before I showed up. It is a bit of an ego blow, even so. 

The course itself, as I saw on a preview lap, was set up in a double-loop pattern, just over half a mile per loop. Even warming up, I realized that this was not going to be a fast 5k, since it took place on short, steep hills on a winding course. I figured I might still be able to hit 20-21 minutes, given a decent effort. 

I didn’t. 

With a blowing of vuvuzelas, the race was on. I quickly realized that, though I was unlikely to be the first one home, I was going to be in the top 5, as me, 3 high schoolers, and the RD distanced ourselves from the rest. My primary goal for this race was to run as even as possible throughout, while still giving a good effort. This equated to running with the RD for the vast majority of the race. 

I felt reasonably comfortable with the pace, as I should have. I ended up running just 20-30 seconds per mile faster than I did at the Night Lights half marathon last year, coming in at 22:50 for 3.2 miles, for my slowest 5k ever at about 7:09 pace. My mile splits were 7:07, 7:17, and 7:13 (though they can’t be directly compared). I wish now that I had taken splits at the laps as well, so I could compare more directly. 

All in all, though, the race served its purpose. These small, almost neighborhood level events are the ones that I seem to enjoy the most. Before, during, and after the race, the adults in the group were consistently introducing themselves to me and asking about me. The race itself rekindled my running fire, and in the days since I have been focused even more on my training and getting back into form. 

Coming back

It has been a long process for me coming back from this particular injury. It hasn’t gone as well as it did last summer when I had IT band issues, but my PT thinks that’s because it was never really about my  IT band and my gluteus. More likely, it was about several different muscles not activating correctly. First, my left abdominals were not activating fully, and my left leg was not doing the same share of the work as my right leg (this is where the gluteus actually comes in). After working for a few weeks to correct that, I went back, and she discovered that my right Psoas muscle was not activating to swing my right leg forward during my left stance. 

If you’ve read this blog for a while, you might remember that, two years ago or so, I had  scare where several doctors thought that I had appendicitis, but in fact I had pulled my right Psoas muscle. The assumption now is that it never “restarted” after that injury. 

On the plus side, that means I have an actionable issue that I can work on. Combined with working on my left stance and working on my foot strike (always), I’m hopeful that I can get back to full on training in the next month or so. At the moment, I am running up to three miles, 2 out of every 3 days (though I sadly missed today, I will make up for it tomorrow). 

For the first time, though, I am attempting to put together a general long-term training plan. I’m using a variety of resources for this process. At the moment, I am focusing on “Training for the New Alpinism.” While it’s written for Alpine climbers, it has a lot of good general training information that I think will also be very useful for my running, including strength and technique training as well as general aerobic training suggestions. 

Adding to that, I’m going to incorporate the general structure from The Cool Impossible, at least for the first 12 weeks or so (which would constitute the Transition and some of the Base period of the Training for the New Alpinism plan). As I recall, it worked really well for me last time, and I’m hoping it can do some of the same for me this time as well. I’m hoping that with a little more cross training, in the form of biking and climbing, and a little more strength training, in the form of general strength training and climbing, I will be able to get through this year without any more injuries. 

My goals remain generally the same for the coming year. I’d like to get more actual racing in this year, primarily at the half marathon and lower distances. I want to keep my primary goal as the Border Route Trail, sometime in either the spring or the fall. Added to that, I definitely want to add in more self-propelled adventuring, now that I have a sweet bike that I had custom built. I would like to use that on my planned ascent (and subsequent descent) of Eagle Mountain in northern MN. 

At this point, I’m still a little discouraged, and I still go out on each run worried that my right leg might act up again. But I’m feeling more and more hopeful as the days go by and I don’t get the same seizing sensation that I got previously. There might just be hope for me yet. 

Summer Running

It has been a decidedly up and down summer of running for me. 

I kept mostly to a low-heart rate training plan for much of June and July, gradually adding in some more intense efforts as my training progressed. During a family vacation at the beginning of the month, which corresponded to a low-mileage week (by design). After the down week, I jumped straight back into it, running 41, 37, and 42 miles over the next several weeks as I tried to ramp my training up for the 50 miler in September. And it felt pretty good over all. 

The next week, however, I was out in Pittsburgh for my job. I had run twice the Saturday before, totally 21 miles with a 13 mile night run, but was feeling pretty solid over all. I had a slight twinge in my right leg (ankle and glute) that I was hoping would shake itself out with an easy run on Monday. This twinge had first started a couple weeks before after a 9 mile hard effort in Duluth. 

Unfortunately, though I managed over 20 miles in the course of my three runs in Pittsburgh, the twinge just got worse and, on what was planned to be a 20 miler the Sunday after, I quit after a mile and a half. 

This past week I have not run at all.

My belief is that this stems from the ankle I severely tweaked in the Superior 25k this spring, and subsequently did not n any way rest or allow to heal. I've heard before of this sort of issue causing misfiring in the glute as well. So this past week I have been focusing on rolling out my legs, doing low-impact strength work, and generally taking it far easier than I have been. I'm hoping that, with a week's rest, I can return to training over the course of a week. 

I'm somewhat wondering if I want to. 

I love running, and I love racing, and I fully intend to keep doing both. But I think I've focused to much on training for races, and not enough on running the way I like to: freely  and for the joy of it. This was easier to do in Colorado, because I could just run up and down a mountain (something I dearly love to do) and that would double as training. 

I think I need to find something similar that I love to do while running here. Even if that means (gasp) running lower mileage over all. I think I will be better for it. I also want to mix in other types of movement with my running. I've been doing that somewhat, stopping to do pullups and other exercises during my runs. I think I need to take it a step farther: driving to the river if necessary and playing down in the woods. I have been doing a little more climbing lately, and hope to continue that. I think if I find the joy I have in movement again, and mix that into my running, I will be better off than I am now, simply running to get the miles in (even if I still enjoy it).

Three Solid Weeks (And I need to take more pictures)

Let me start by saying that I am tired. 

The last three weeks have been as solid as I could ask for, punctuated by three separate, excellent longer runs. I’ve stuck entirely to not eating carbohydrates before I run. I have also stuck for the most part to 180-age heart rate according to what is being called the Maffetone method. I’ve let myself off the leash, so to speak, four total times in the past three weeks, and I think I’m seeing good results. 

Two weeks ago on Saturday, I had what is probably my best run since moving to Minnesota at Afton state park. Roughly 30 seconds after I started running, the skies opened up and the rain came pouring down. Within a minute, I was soaked to the skin, grinning like and idiot, and, though my legs had felt a bit heavy just seconds before, I knew it was going to be a great run. 

I didn’t push the pace at first, but I felt good enough that the miles seemed to flow from one to the next as the rain waxed and waned. But after completing the north section (10.5 miles or so) of the 25k loop I’d planned for the day, I still felt good, so kicked it up a couple notches for the flats along the train grade along the river. I must have really cruised, because despite the minor inconvenience of a downed tree across the trail, I still managed fourth overall on the section. 

Still feeling good, I pushed up and over the Meat Grinder and onto the snowshoe loop. I didn’t quite PR for the entire loop, but since I didn’t push the pace for most of it, I feel pretty good about it. 

The following week it got hot. Sticking to the 148 heart rate was difficult, and required an extreme drop of the ego, but I managed it, and on nine straight days of running felt good going into the weekend. 

Friday night was stormy and rainy, so I ran on the bike paths around the River Gorge Loop on Saturday, running one at a quick pace, and the second at an even faster one. Despite 75 degree temperatures with 75% humidity (ow), I ended with 5.5 miles in 38 minutes. It felt fast, but not painfully so. 

Following that up on Sunday, I ran 10k in Battle Creek, attacking the uphills and relaxing the rest of the time. This park is an entirely different place in the summer, with lush prairie grasses almost overcoming the trail at many points. That little detail led to a certain paranoia regarding the number of ticks I was sure I was picking up. Even so, it was a gorgeous site, with early summer wildflowers in full bloom. I caught one young buck deer less than ten feet from me, hidden up to the neck in tall grasses. At my feet, I kept getting little flashes of brown and black as what I assume were shrews or voles dashed across the trail in front of me. All in all, a second excellent run for the weekend, and all the better training for taking place on tired legs. 

Another consistent week of training, and heat adaptation, followed. I took Monday off, but ran seven on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, and 5.5 on Friday for a good total heading into the weekend. Saturday I headed out to Afton again, hoping for a solid, three hour run, picking up the effort a bit on the hills again. 

But this run had a twist: I wanted to run without gels. To replace that, I had exactly 1.25 ounces of beef jerky. 

Added to the top of that, it was hot. 

I opted to run the north half of the 25k loop twice, or near to, seeing where I was when I reached the bridge over the campground trail (if you don’t know the route, this is probably confusing, but if you’re a trail runner in the Twin Cities, you probably get what I’m talking about). From there, I’d see where I was time wise and either head up the campground loop or shortcut to the car. 

The first loop around went really well, all told. I felt powerful on the uphills, quick and relaxed on the flats, and smooth on the downhills. Before I knew it, I had cruised up to the top of the campground loop and was filling my water bottles. As a side note, I highly recommend the new Body Bottles + (a Hydroflask product) sold by Ultimate Direction as a complement to their vests. The big mouths make filling them easy, they fit well in the vests, and they are much more comfortable than the normal bottles. I was a little concerned about how easy or difficult it would be to get them in and out of the front pockets, but it turned out to be very easy. 

At this point, my watch usually shows about 10 miles. I had discovered that morning that packing the night before works really well, as long as you remember to pack EVERYTHING the night before. I had forgotten to pack my watch, so was relying on my phone. At this point, it said 9.5 miles gone. I am pretty sure the watch is more accurate, or at least I’ve used it there more times and it is pretty consistent. 

Nevertheless, having filled my bottles and wetted down my cap, I took off again for my second loop. Somewhere in the trout brook loop, I briefly felt a little off, but miraculously a few bites of beef jerky seemed to do the trick, and I continued to feel good all the way down, and then up, the dirt road and over the hump. 

In fact, I felt good the whole day. While I could feel the fatigue set in, this being after all my longest run since the Icebox race, I never felt horrible. And though I didn’t get in a second campground loop, at the end of the run my phone said 18.7 miles and 2:56. With the fudge factor, I’d give it 19-19.5 miles, for a very solid three hour trail run. 

That, I picked up my brother at MSP and opted to spend time with him instead of taking a follow-up run today. While that would have pushed my weekly mileage over 50 for the first time in a while, spending time with my family is always solidly more important than any single run to me. 

Now What?

(Note: I started writing this a week after the Superior 25k, and finished it much more recently)

With the Superior 25k over and done with, I actually have very little on the horizon in terms of racing. I have the Warrior Dash on July 11, and the Superior 50 mile on September 12, and that’s all at the moment. I have my sights on the Border Route Trail still, as well as Eagle Mountain. 

So what now? 

Back to base period, I think. 

50 and 65 miles are so much farther than I’ve ever run before (15 and 30 miles farther, to be precise) that I need a strategy to cope with it. 

Changing tacks a little bit, I’ve seen quite a bit of research and writing lately on training your body to more efficiently burn fat. There are a number of strategies for this, ranging from the mild, and likely less effective, to the extreme (and nearly impossible). 

At its simplest, you simply make sure that your heart rate stays low throughout your whole run. The usual formula for this is 180bpm minus your age. For most people, this also requires a significant ego-check, as it often requires walking up hills, and a significant reduction in overall pace. 

Chris McDougall, in his newest book “Natural Born Heroes,” suggests a much more extreme method, put forward by Phil Maffetone. This method requires you taking carbohydrates out of your diet entirely (or as much as is possible) for two weeks, while keeping to the 180-age heart rate method. This is intended to reset your body’s desire for carbohydrates while simultaneously improving its ability to metabolize fat for fuel while running. 

I chose to take a middle of the road approach. I run in the morning, so rather than taking carbohydrates out of my diet entirely, I simply do not eat any before I run in the morning. Supposedly, this should start me in a carbohydrate-depleted state, allowing my body to more immediately switch to fat-burning. 

Let me tell you, this is hard. Not in the sense that it’s difficult physically, rather it is really important to stick to that target heart rate maximum. For me, that’s 148. Supposedly, since I’ve been training regularly for more than 2 years and am improving my PRs still, I have a 5 bpm fudge factor. To be certain I’m not tapping into any carbohydrate fuel, though, I have been staying below 148. 

This has required me to drop my pace a bit (not as much as I had feared, but still significant). This is particularly true now that it’s getting hot again, with the corresponding increase in heart rate that implies. Sometimes I find it hard to keep the heart rate low enough even on flat, paved stretches. And I have been required to set aside my ego, both on the run when people pass me who might not normally do so, and afterwards on Strava. 

I am not sure if this is working yet. I fell off the bandwagon a bit when I did not bring my HRM on a trip with me. I may alter this somewhat, shifting it to one “cheating” anaerobic workout each week (hills alternating with speedwork, perhaps). But I can say one thing: my recovery from the Superior 25k was better than after any other race I’ve run. After a decade or so of longer races, I have finally found a recovery method that works for me.

Superior Spring 25k: Race Report

After my last race I opted to do a short, sweet race report, focusing on impressions rather than the overall race. This time, I want to go back to a bit of a more traditional format. 

Going into the race, I was pretty uncertain of how I would feel. I had fallen ill that week after helping my parents start their move (out of a house they’ve lived in for 37 years!). That had involved carrying boxes down, I would estimate, 400-500 total flights of stairs over two days. Talk about an eccentric muscle strength workout! 

After the camping experience, or fiasco depending on your perspective, of last year, we opted to stay in an actual hotel before and after this year’s race. We got in at 10:30 the night before and, after a couple false starts (it gets light really early up North) I woke up, hacked up a nice, neon ball of phlegm, and was out the door by 7:40 and at the start by 7:50. Again, much nicer than last year. 9AM starts are glorious.

The centerpiece of the race, Lake Superior, decided not to make much of an appearance this year. The lake was shrouded in a veil of fog all morning, to the extent that, if you didn’t know better, you might not know there was a lake at all. The weather on the course, on the other hand, was sunny and 50 degrees: perfect running weather. 

The various check-in requirements and pre-race rituals completed, I gathered at the front of the pack for the start, and the ritual reading of “the names of people who didn’t check in this morning.” There didn’t seem to be many people eager to start out at the front, leaving a pack of 6 or so to lead the race up the road. 

After last year, I had my strategy down: ease into the uphills, coast the “flats,” and slay the downhills Colorado-style. I chatted briefly with the eventual 1-2 men before letting them take off up the trail, vaulted onto the rock before ducking under the always-amusing “Bridge Out” sign, and turned uphill. 

Per my strategy, I kept it easy on the climb up Mystery this year, letting people pass me knowing that I would most likely catch them later. Sure enough, I dogged their heels on the relative flats on Mystery, and flew by them down the hill to the saddle, where the worst of the mud flats were the prior year. 

Moose Mountain, with Mystery to the right, from the top of the Alpine Slide

With less snowfall this year, I was hoping these would be in better, faster shape this year. No such luck. If anything, they seemed worse than last year. I knew immediately that there was no staying dry this year, and simply plunged into the muck (later drawing comments on just how muddy I was). 

On the climb up Moose, I stayed with other runners a bit more, still letting them pass me, but then staying on their tail as they continued up one of the two steepest climbs on the course. Sticking behind the second woman and one other Open Men runner, I let the lead woman and another guy get a little too far ahead. This is the one of two places I made a definite mistake. I should have passed the first two on the slight downhills. 

Even so, I again caught up and passed the two in front of me on the screaming descent off Moose, my best descent of the day by far, and caught up to the second pair by the Onion River Crossing. I eventually passed them prior to the aid station, which I tore through at sub-6 minute pace (according to my watch, which I would only look at later). Out time was 1:03:54, well within my targets of 1:05 and 1:10. 

My goal was to negative split. Still feeling good, I thought it would be possible. Coming down towards the Onion again, I put my foot down in a mud puddle only to have it hit a rock and twist outwards, tweaking my ankle. 

It hurt, but not too terribly, and I knew I would have no trouble finishing the race. It did, however, take away my downhilling possibilities for the rest of the race, and the time I took to cinch down my shoelaces let two people (the lead woman and a guy from Gustavus Nordic who I would trade places with at least 5 times over the course of the race). 

I ran gingerly for the remainder of the descent to the Onion River, letting my ankle complain and stiffen up again, knowing from the cheers of oncoming runners that I was still well within striking distance of the two who had passed me. Sadly, on the march up Moose Mountain, with my ankle still tender (as it would remain) another runner overtook me. 

The remainder of the race was a sufferfest. Despite my ankle, I managed to catch Gustavus on the way down Moose, only to lose that place to him when I slipped on a board and ended up with my right arm shoulder-deep in mud. The boards, dry on the way out, were now so mud-covered that they were almost more treacherous than the mud itself. 

The slog up Mystery saw one more runner pass me, but I caught her again on the road to the finish. 

The road section went well. I wanted to hit sub-7 minute pace, and did so. The whole way, though, I kept glancing back to see a runner in red catching me. At the last, slight jog uphill, 200m before the finish, he was right on my shoulder, threatening to nip me at the line. 

I was a sprinter in high school, and still have that leg speed. It took running that last bit at sub-5, but I fended him off, collapsing over the line only to glance up and see that he wasn’t even in my race. 

He nabbed second in the 50k . . . 

All in all, though, I think I executed well in this race. Being sick, with my legs still sore from Monday’s moving, I could have thrown in the towel and just run for fun. Instead, I dug deep, and despite a major spill and a twisted ankle held on for 8th place overall (2:13:51, for a 1:10 second half), hitting my B goal of under 2:15 in the process. Experience counts, and honestly I probably don’t have as much racing experience as many, but I improve with every race. 

The remainder of the weekend was spent exploring the North Shore, eating a glorious dinner at the Angry Trout in Grand Marais (along with seemingly half the other runners from that morning), and touring my parents’ new house on Sunday. 

Post-race lunch with a view.

Cascade River mouth.

Split Rock. There's a lighthouse there. (Sunday)

All in all, a most excellent weekend. 

Training Update

Since the Zumbro 17, which went remarkably well, my training has gone through its ups and downs.

The week directly after Zumbro, I tried to get a solid training week in. This included a 25k loop out at Afton a week after the race. While my legs felt ok, I could tell already that I needed to allow them a little more recovery time. Having put in 34 miles the week after Zumbro, I put in a much more reasonable (for me) 25 miles the week after.

I have also gotten better at my strength training. Partially, this is due to reading "Natural Born Heroes," Chris McDougall's latest book.  His second offering does not flow nearly as well as his first: I find it jumps around at odd places. "Born to Run" did a little bit of this as well, but that flowed more naturally to me. That the first book flowed more naturally than the second I find amusing, since the second is all about natural movement.

Segue aside, the book has re-invigorated my interest in Parkour and Freerunning, sports I have been involved in previously, but let slide since moving to Minnesota due to 1) the cold weather and 2) the fact that the only training gym in the area is inconveniently-located for us. What I forgot, of course, is that Parkour is all about using what you have around you in new ways. I discovered that the stone wall and columns outside my front door are excellent places to work on climb-ups and cat hangs. I do burpees and vaults on my back patio area, and am seriously considering building myself a vault box so I can further explore movement.

(If you don't understand any of that, look up the terms on youtube, there are ample videos out there).

In any case, after the rest week and some strength training, I started to feel a bit more like my running self again. The final week in April, I ran 44 miles, including a 17 mile long run on Sunday.

Regretfully, with the forecast for thunderstorms and rain during the run, I neglected to bring my phone or camera on my run with me on Sunday. I say "regretfully" because it was a stunningly gorgeous day. The spring wildflowers are out in full force in the Minnesota woods, and this particular day, blue flowers blanketed the forest floor, still open to the sunlight as the trees have not yet produced their leaves.

For a little while, I ran along a small creek, murmuring at me to take its picture when I stopped at a bench to tie my shoe.

I nearly slapped myself in the face when I came across a deer skull with a patch of flowers growing around and through it.

Let that be a lesson to me, I guess, that I should always pack a sandwich bag so that, regardless of the weather forecast, I can take pictures of beautiful scenery.

For your edification: some videos related to the above: the first is one of my favorite videos of the genre, the second is mentioned in the book "Natural Born Heroes."

Downhill Running

I have run several technical trail races in the Upper Midwest now, and at each of them, other runners have said the same thing:

“I don’t know how you take the downhills that fast.” 

After getting an explicit question on this on my last post about Zumbro, I got to thinking more about it. There are any number of lists at tips out there about downhill running. Indeed, any trail running book you pick up will probably have tips on how to run downhill. Hal Koerner’s “Field Guide to Ultrarunning” has a number of good tips. I want to take a different tactic here. 

Downhills are inherently important in any trail race with significant elevation change. In fact, recent research on ultramarathons suggests that the muscles in downhill running are the ones that are the most affected by an ultra. I myself have found that, while I’m an average uphiller in Minnesota, I am considered an excellent downhiller, often making up  more time on the downhill than I lose to other runners on the uphill.     

So here are my tips: 

1. Practice: this should be self-explanatory. If you want to get good at running downhills, run downhill. While I lived in Colorado, this was unavoidable. A general run consisted of running up a mountain, then back down it. Longer runs included more mountains. Here in Minnesota, I have to be a bit more deliberate about it. I have found a few courses in the Twin Cities area that feature longish hills. Rather than simply do hill repeats up a hill, I’ll do them up and down. This either results in a tempo run, or running for a rest break at the top or bottom before doing another up/down or down/up repeat. If nothing else, do this. 
2. Look ahead: focus on a spot a few meters ahead of you. Don’t worry so much about the ground right in front of your feet. Look farther ahead, and route yourself accordingly. After some practice, you will get to the point where your legs and feet naturally adapt to the terrain they hit. Trust them, and let them.
3. Relax: many people tense up on the downhills. This just makes it harder to react to the terrain, and takes more effort than staying relaxed. Staying relaxed also makes it much less likely that you will injure yourself if you do take the fall. 
4. Flow: when I get into a good groove on the downhill, I like to compare it to a dance. It’s a great feeling, with your feet just barely touching the ground, dancing across rocks that shift under your feet and flying over gaps. I’m not alone in this: Kilian Jornet says the same thing. 
5. Enjoy : learn to love the downhills. As I said above, there’s nothing as much fun (to me) as flying smoothly down rough terrain, and the accompanying gasps from the people you past. 

If you get the chance, look up some of the great downhillers. Kilian and Anton Krupicka are both excellent. For a time, there was a clip of Kilian going down Grand Swamp Pass during his Hardrock performance last year that was an astounding example of all the above. Here are a couple examples: 

This is a bit shaky, since Kilian is holding the camera. But from 4:20 on you get a bit of an idea.

Here's one at the Pikes Peak Marathon. I was actually in this race, though Kilian was far ahead of me. I ended up in 59th place, rather disappointed since my training partners had come in 9th and 19th, but I did the best I could on that day. 

Zumbro 17: Impressions.

I raced the Zumbro 17 miler in southern Minnesota this past weekend. I opted for the “sprint” race rather than the 50 or 100 milers that were going on at the same time. Huge congrats to those who did the longer distances! That is a tough loop to do once, let alone 3 or 6 times. 

Rather than do a full race report this time, I decided that I will stick to impressions of what I did well with this race, and what I can improve on next time. To be honest, that’s what is more important to me in any case.

I am, on the whole, pretty proud of this race. I ended up in 6th place over all out of 281 finishers. I felt like I pushed hard, but managed to stay in control and leave a little (though not quite enough) in the tank at the end. I got to enjoy an absolutely glorious spring day in a beautiful area of southern Minnesota, and share it with other, like-minded people who, by and large, made a great event even better.  

Things done well: 

Physical and Mental preparation: I had trained well for this race. Looking back on my training up to this point last year, i got in fewer miles, but more workouts. Last year, I was logging more miles, but fewer of them were focused, quality miles with a definite goal. I was doing weekly 800 meter workouts, but no real trail workouts. I have definitely gotten more elevation in this year, and I think that payed off big time. 

My 10-mile tempo from a few weeks ago was a huge mental and physical boost. It proved to me that I could run fast even when i wasn’t feeling 100%. It also showed me that I could run quickly on trails. 

The week prior to this, I fell ill to a combination of allergies and sickness. Only a week before the race, I found I couldn’t run at all (let alone my planned 15 miles) because my body had shut down so much. Even a few days before, I was not back to where I had been. That being the case, I tried to set reasonable goals. I looked back at a similar race in Colorado, the Continental Divide Trail Run, and from that figured I could run between 2:15 and 2:30 at Zumbro, depending on the day. 

I ran a 2:22:50. 

I also planned better for the race course. I studied the elevation profile, locations of the aid stations, and had my plan in place before I set foot in the park. I knew that if I could manage my efforts on the climbs, I could still have enough left in the tank to push on a section of gravel road between 12 and 14 miles. I didn’t go quite as quickly as I’d hoped, managing around 7 minute pace, but that’s much more quickly than I’ve ever run that far into a race before. 

Race Day: On the day itself, I did fairly well. I brought my Simple Hydration bottle, allowing me to carry 13 ounces tucked into my waistband. I brought 1 VFuel gel in my shorts pocket, which was useful, but this will also go under “Thinks to Improve.” Despite a somewhat chilly start, I went with shorts, a tank top, and gloves, knowing that it would heat up. Anything more and I would have definitely overheated later. 

During the race itself, I played to my strengths well. I let some people go a bit on the uphills, and dropped the hammer a bit on the flats and downhills, trusting my speed work and descending ability. And sure enough, after the first pair of downhills, another racer ran by saying “I don’t know how you take the downhills the way you do.”  On the gravel road, as I said, I didn’t quite have the 6:30s I was hoping for in me, else I would probably have taken 5th. I must have had my pacing nearly perfect, because after the 5th mile or so, I didn’t get passed (nor, sadly, did I pass the 5th place runner). 

Things to improve:

Preparation: Ideally, I would have gotten another long (15+) mile run in, with a significant flat section where I could drop the hammer. Afton is perfect for that, and would let me work on uphills at the same time. Other than that, I felt pretty good with my preparation, given my illness the week before. 

Race day: I knew the aid stations carried Hammer gels, which I don’t tolerate at all. Knowing this, I should have carried an additional VFuel gel for the race. Two gels is just about perfect for this length race (for me). 

Secondly, I need to work on my mental game. The last 4 miles or so, I knew where the 5th place runner was. I could see him on the road and wherever the trail straightened out. I did consciously push the pace, running a mental string between us and trying to shorten it slowly and surely. It worked, to an extent, but I ran out of time. I was pushing to the borderline, and if I ran much faster my quad started cramping and twitching. But had I been able to move just 5 seconds per mile faster, I could have made it a sprint for the line. 

Other thoughts: 

It was a tough course. My watch said about 2000 feet of climbing, though it was probably closer to 2500 based on other peoples’ readings. There were four big climbs, but those weren’t the worst sections for me. The worst section was coming in to AS3, along a flat section. The only problem was it wasn’t really flat, it had tiny, rolling bumps, like those you see on mountainbike trails. Each little bump sucks just a little life out of your legs. 

I’ve always hated those things. 

Seriously, though, it was a beautiful course, and well marked. There was no point where I was worried about getting off course. I would highly recommend the race to anybody who has an interest in mid-length trail race. 

Week Ending 4/5

Setbacks.

In any running year, they happen. I had one this past week. Around Tuesday, I started feeling congested, and just a bit ill. Even so, I did a solid hill workout on Tuesday, and a 6 x 3 minutes on, 2 minutes "float" fartlek on Thursday.

Friday I had planned 7 miles. I managed almost 4, with tears streaming from my eyes due to allergies. In the afternoon, after trying to work for several hours, I passed out in my bed for a couple hours.

I never take naps. In the past 10 years, I can count on one hand the number of times I've taken a nap. I know they can be useful and healthy for many people, but I have never been able to fall asleep during the day. That should give an indication of how far gone I was.

Saturday I had planned a run out at Afton: a 15.5 mile loop I've done several times before. After Friday, though, I realized that, while I could probably have done the run, it would have done more harm than good.

For any runner, the decision not to do a workout (rather than, say, shortening or easing up on a planned workout) is a difficult one. Training requires, for me, a carefully acquired OCD tendency that is hard to set aside when things don't go your way.

I ended up taking the entire weekend off. After a couple rest days, I headed out for 3.5 miles today (Monday) and while I feel mostly better, I am not 100% by any means.


I can only hope I feel better as the week goes on because, on Saturday, I have my first race of the year! The Zumbro 17 (https://www.zumbro100.com/) is a 16.7 mile trail race with, depending on who you ask, 2300-3100 feet of elevation gain. Looking at past performances, if I feel ok I should be able to finish it in under 2:20. I ran a much harder race, the Continental Divide Trail Run in Steamboat (15.5 miles and 4300 feet at 8000+ feet elevation) in 2:22 off of two weeks' training.

I hope I feel better, and can really lay the hammer down.  With any luck, my enforced taper should help.

Week Ending March 29

This was a recovery week, as intended, so there wasn't much in the way of running or workouts for the week. After some consideration, I also decided, once again, to abandon my plan of a running streak. I don't know why I keep going back to the idea of running everyday when I've had much luck doing so. Perhaps is just the elegance of running every day. Nonetheless, with even one rest day a week, I feel a thousand times better than I do if I run even a mile on that off day.

Given my goals for the year, taking a rest day ever week just makes sense.

Weekly Summary:  ~23 miles, ~3 hours.

I did manage to get one good workout in this week, however. On Friday, I was feeling all out of sorts, mentally and physically. My legs were not feeling great, despite several days of short and easy runs. Mentally, I was feeling down, and worn out after a hard week of work (without enough running to offset it).

So Friday morning, I opted to head out mid-morning for a run from the River Gorge down to, and possibly around, Pike Island in Snelling State Park.

Feeling good on the first section of trail, I ended up hitting a decent pace even on the difficult trail section. Across the bridge, my route ran along bike paths and sidewalks, and I found myself hitting sub-7 pace without breathing hard on the slight downhill. I cruised though the off-leash dog park (sorry if I startled anybody), hitting 6:30s on the downhill trail, and finally (after a slight bushwhack) down into Snelling proper on the bike path.

By this point, I was over 5 miles into my run. A lap of Pike Island would have made the whole run over 13 miles, but I didn't feel that was a good idea. Rather, I decided to make the second half a good tempo run, pushing myself to the uncomfortable stage.

Retracing my route back up the slight slope to my car, I hit a fairly steady effort, with paces ranging from 8 minutes on the steeper hills to low 6-minutes on the flats and shallow grades. All in all, I hit 10.5 miles in about 1:15, for a decent outing.

And now, since I forgot these last week: pictures!

Morning shot of St Paul from Battle Creek.

Cobbler flavor gel . . .

. . .at Pi

I have an obsession with odd trees.

And finally, good running advice from Old Navy

Fortnight Ending 3/22/2015

These two weeks gave me a massive mental boost over where I had been. In the first two months of the year, despite having a better fitness base coming in and feeling like I was doing plenty, I realized that I was in fact doing less mileage than the corresponding time in 2014. I am quite sure that I was doing the corresponding mileage faster and with less fatigue over all, but it was discouraging nonetheless.

This fortnight left me feeling like I got a solid bit of training under my belt. I also started exploring a new place to run (Battle Creek Park, site of the Night Lights half last fall), which provides a bit more vertical than my standard River Gorge route.

Summaries: 

Week ending March 15: 37 miles, 5 hours, 1800' of elevation gained.

I managed two solid workouts during this period. The first happened by chance: I was running along the hillier of my two routes from home, and saw up and to my left a pair of bald eagles kettling. I ran with them for a few blocks, looking up as much as I could, and found they were moving at about 5:30 pace.

Feeling surprisingly good, I turned my planned easy loop into more of a tempo run, and ended up running about 10k in just over 41 minutes. Not a stellar time, but not bad for legs that had run 14 miles two days earlier, on a hilly course.

The second was a more standard fartlek down Summit. I tried a 2 minutes on, 2 minutes off program, but this was quickly interrupted by the stoplights (spaced every 1/2 or 1/4 mile down the entire route). Nevertheless, I got a good workout in.

Saturday's long run I headed out to Battle Creek, where I proceeded to explore for a while. After a week of warm weather, it was starting to cool off a bit, and I got some stunning visions of the meadows, frosted over, sparkling in the first rays of the sun.

As I remembered, Battle Creek consists of a lot of double track, groomed for skiing in the winter. However, it also has a large amount of single track (mostly for mountain bikes) that provides a good counterpoint. Best of all, at the end, I found another, steeper, gnarlier singletrack section on the far side of the creek from the main park. Since I was meeting friends for a Saint Patricks Day/Pi day combo lunch, I had to save exploring that further for the next week.

Week Ending March 22: 42 miles, 6:16, 4800' elevation.

I hope this week marks a turning point physically as well as mentally. After exploring Battle Creek on Saturday, I realized if I wanted to train properly for the races I have planned, I need to actively seek out steep, technical trails to train on properly.

So this week I did just that. Tuesday, I headed down to the River Gorge. Keeping to the east bank,  I ran south, and every time I saw a trail down to the river, I took it down to the bank, and tempoed back up. Eventually, I found three trails within about half a mile. Two were steep, nearly a 50% grade as far as I can tell from Strava. The third was one I'd done before, shallower but longer. I did a full 18 total hill reps, for about 1500 feet.

The second workout, I headed over to Battle Creek for a hill I found promising. This time I did 10 steep reps, and 5 shallower, longer hills with more vert.

Saturday I hit Battle Creek again. Exploring to the west side of the creek, I came upon what I think is a trail in progress. It was cleared, and blazed, but the trail itself was not yet cut into the ground at all. And, eventually, it just dead-ended. We'll see if the trail-making progresses.

I got lucky on this run. Coming down a hill, the same switchbacking slope I did repeats on earlier in the week, I startled a coyote. It proceeded to bounce (not bound, but bounce on all four legs) down the hill just quickly enough to evade my camera. Later on, I struggled up a different hill to see what I think was a pair of red tailed hawks courting ahead of me. Naturally, they also flew off before I could snap a picture.

All in all, though, it was a good run, coming in at 14 miles. And after a 4 mile run the next day, I started a much-needed recovery week.

Week Ending 3/8/2015

Weekly Totals: 36 miles. About 5 hours.

It was only about 40 degrees warmer than the last time I took a picture from this spot. 

Looking west from the opposite bank. For some reason I really liked this broken stool, sitting out on the ice. 

As a runner, I have never been big on the phenomenon known as "streaking." (Well, depends on the type of streaking, but that's a long story from a while ago now). I know some people who have kept their mile-a-day streak up for a very long time. One is on day 250 or so.

I kept one going for almost two weeks once . . .

But I've been thinking. I'm in good shape, injury-free at the moment, and I'm curious about this. I also happen to be coming up on my 32nd birthday. So I think I might combine the two, and try a short streak, running the 32 days preceding my birthday.

Seems appropriate.

Some rules and guidelines:

1. Each run must be a mile, documented. Unless my GPS breaks down, in which case I will do 10 minutes.
2. It has to be a run, where I change into running clothes and shoes. 
3. If I think that running that mile, or ten minutes, will affect me negatively, I can bail: no harm, no foul. 

That's all. I will start no later than March 18. 

(Did I mention I have two races during that period?)

Fortnight Ending March 1st.

Week Ending February 22: 29 miles,  about four hours. 

This was the week that winter finally caught up to me. The past week had already been cold, with single digits above and below zero common, and 10+ mph winds consistent. Nonetheless, I managed to get out and increase my mileage that week. 

This week not so much. I ran longish Tuesday, and was all set to head out for a similarly long run on Wednesday. Less than a mile in, though, heading down Summit and into the wind, my fingertips were already getting frost nip and I couldn’t feel  my cheeks. I decided enough was enough, and turned back. 

The rest of the week was a little better, culminating in a 12.5 mile run on Saturday.  I opted for a full River Gorge loop, starting at home, which conveniently made for my planned 12.5 miles. Northbound from Ford Bridge (which I took at a low 5-minute pace) I glanced back to see a couple other runners clearly looking for the drop-down point to the trail. 

This led to me showing them the “ledges:” the portion of the River Gorge north of Ford and south of Lake. Through this section, the trail often has an 80+ foot drop to the left, and no escape up the bank to the right. It’s a place where, even after running in Colorado for so many years, I occasionally worry about the exposure and bad footing. 

One wrong step and you’re in the river, or, since it is winter after all, a red mark on the ice. 

Even so, it was nice to have some company on my run for once. I dropped my pace a bit to run with them, but not too significantly, and it was fun to meet some new people. 

So thank you, David and Terrence. It was a pleasure. 

Sunday was again below zero with a strong wind, and I gave in to the elements. 

I’m not proud, but I have all my digits!

Week Ending March 1: 20 miles. Just over 2.5 hours. 

As should be clear, this was my rest week. I focused on keeping mileage up during the week, knowing that I would likely not get any running in on the weekend. 

The reason for that was that G and I headed up to Lutsen, Minnesota (starting and ending location for the Spring Superior races, and finish of the Superior 50 and 100 in the fall) to chaperone a ski trip for my mother’s church. Since she doesn’t ski, we were the designated on the slope adults. 

Since I telemark, I wasn’t too worried about missing a longish run. 6 or so hours of tele skiing is a phenomenal eccentric strength workout for your legs, which is a great way to train your legs for the downhills in races without the accompanying pounding on your joints that running downhill entails. 

Compared to Colorado skiing, Lutsen is not all that impressive, but it’s as good as it gets in Minnesota, and a more than suitably enjoyable way to spend a day. 

Fortnight ending 2/15: WINTER!

Ice Beard! 11 miles in single digits will do that. 

Week 1: 26.2 miles. 3 hours 37 minutes. 

Week 2: 30 miles. 4 hours 10 minutes. 

These two weeks brought the worst weather, temperature-wise, of the winter so far. They were also the first two of a three-month buildup period, which means I was ramping up the mileage reasonably heavily the whole time. 

I generally like running in winter, and these two weeks were no exception. I think that having an adversary (of any sort) to run against is what really makes winter running easier for me. Weather gives you an adversary, and the resulting motivation to run against it. 

The last two weeks also marked the introduction of more quality workouts into my routine. Each week, I did a hill workout on Tuesday, and a strength routine following my run on Thursday. I took a different take on the hill workouts this time: rather than repeat one hill over and over, I progress from one hill to the next. For my particular route, the first “hill” is a set of stairs, which rises about 100 feet up the bluffs. The second is a half-mile long, shallow hill that rises 125 feet. Ramsey hill marks the third. And the fourth, which I only ran the second week, is another longer, shallower hill. I still have a good 3 or 4 hills I can add on to this run as I go along. By the time racing season comes along, I should be good to go. 

This fortnight was remarkable in how much fun I had running as well. It was consistently sunny, and snowed just enough that I was often breaking trail on my morning runs. That is, if you count punching through a scant half-inch of snow “breaking trail.” I remember coming back from runs feeling more refreshed and happy than when I left. 

Towards the end of the two-week period, though, winter got a little old. I was planning an 11-mile run the last Saturday of the fortnight, but awoke to find the temperature in the single-digits below zero and the windchill at -25. I chose to run three miles on Saturday and punt the long run till Sunday. 

Sunday I did the planned 11-mile double lap of the River Gorge loop along the Mississippi, and despite the single-digit temperatures and still-significant windchill, I saw more people out and about on the trails than I ever have before. This included another runner, which marks only the third time I’ve seen another runner out on the trail portion of the Gorge. 

I also, despite the temperature and the wind, managed to overheat. 

All in all, it was a good couple of weeks, culminating in a long run that felt, over all, quite good. 

Things are progressing the right direction. 

From long run #1. Morning light over one of my favorite spots on the River Gorge Loop.

I'm sad the focus on my phone couldn't handle this. Just down by Summit ave, this is apparently a place where people come to ice climb in the winter. 

Week Ending 2/1: Rest Week

I’m going to stop posting daily summaries here. The weeks tend to be pretty similar, all told. So from here on out, I’ll still post weekly mileage and time totals, but unless there’s something particularly interesting, I’ll limit it to that. 

Totals: 18 miles. 2:27. ~1000’ 

I find rest weeks difficult. I don’t think that separates me from most runners. I know they’re necessary, and they definitely help my training over all. Strangely, though, despite the lower mileage and the easier intensity, my legs never feel very good on my rest weeks. If anything, they usually feel worse. 

From what I understand, that’s pretty typical. The rest weeks give your legs a chance to heal the damage from the preceding weeks. Naturally, when they’re busy healing, they don’t feel all that great. 

It’s hard from a mental standpoint, too. I know, logically, that the rest week is good. I know in my head that I’m not losing any fitness by taking it easier for a week. But mentally, it’s hard to get past the “I should be running more” block. 

We runners are obsessive by nature, but that obsession does not always extend to resting. 

The Uphill Challenge: I signed up for an Upper Midwest Trail Runners (UMTR) challenge for the first three months of the year. The challenge: to do at least one uphill challenge on the treadmill each month for the first three months of the year. Prizes will be awarded at Zumbro (for which I still have to register). 

For those who don’t know, the Uphill challenge is a treadmill exercise. You set the treadmill at 15% grade, and go as far as you can in 15 minutes. 

This month I went for 1.21 miles. I set the treadmill far to slow for most of it, though. I think, this month, I should be able to hit more like 1.30-1.35. 

It’s not particularly fun while you’re doing it, but I think it makes a good fitness test, and an excellent exercise in mental toughness.

Week Ending 1/25/2014, and dogs.

I am less than inspired to write a post this week. I think it's because, after ramping up the miles 4 weeks in a row, I opted to cut back a little this week. Whenever I do that, I feel a little less like writing about my running for the week.

So, I ran a total of 22 miles this past week, which was at the lower end of my goal mileage spread. But I'm ok with that. I added a mile and a half on to my long run for the week, running 7 on Saturday prior to heading up north for an impromptu visit to Duluth.

The 31st running of the John Beargrease Sled Dog Marathon started in Two Harbors on Sunday, despite low snow levels which forced them to use a shortened (319 mile) route this year. G had never seen the start of a Dogsledding race before, and both being animal people we decided to watch it.

I had forgotten how much fun that is. This year, it started out in a gravel pit, in the woods, and felt even more true to mushing's roots than usual. All the mushing trucks were lined up with their exciting, yapping cargo of high-energy running dogs. If you've never been to one of these events before, those dogs want to run. By the time the race starts, the dogs have been well rested, and their energy cannot be contained, so they yelp and howl, but are still calm enough that young children can come up and pet them.

After a beautiful rendition of the Canadian and American national anthems (seriously, this woman sang like an angel, if that angel were accompanied by 600 or so yapping dogs) the first mushers took to the course.

If you doubt that these dogs are true runners, each dog is held back at the start by one person until it is time for them to shoot of the course. To make sure the dogs don't run too quickly too soon (dogs, too, suffer from starting too quickly), most mushers will deploy a snow anchor to slow the sled in the beginning miles until the dogs settle down into their races.

Being myself, I quickly tired of the crowd and ran down the trail a ways to get clearer shots of the teams.

The short course teams were limited to 8 dogs, the long-course teams had 12. Once out on the course, dogs may be dropped from the team at checkpoints, usually due to vet checks, but not swapped out.

Further into the woods. 

All in all, it was a uniquely north-woods experience, and I'm glad I got a chance to go.

Why do you run?

The following are two short (350 words or fewer) essays answering the question "Why do you run?" This is the perennial question for runners, and one that always leaves me struggling to put words to the feeling I get when running. 

I submitted the second one to a contest, run by Geoff Roes (http://akrunning.blogspot.com/), to get in to one of his running camps this year. 

Why do you run?

That’s a question with as many answers as there are runners. It’s a question every runner gets asked on a regular basis. And it’s a question I’ve asked myself on many a below-zero morning in Minnesota since I moved back here from Boulder, Colorado. 

I started running distance, I had been a sprinter for years, in my senior year of high school for two of the most mundane reasons imaginable. The first was because a doctor told me it would be good for my knees, which had been trashed after 12 years. That’s right, a doctor told me, in 2000, that running would be good for my knees. I was that lucky. 

The second reason I started running was because of a girl. Enough said. 

That’s why I started. So why, 15 years later, am I still running? I will give you free reasons. 

Freedom. This is a typical answer, as far as I can tell. I run to get away from the proverbial “all.” When I’m out running, I can do what I like. I can set aside the worries of work and life, or I can sort through my thoughts on work and life. As so many others do, I do my best thinking while running. In college, where I double majored in math and physics, whenever I had a particularly stubborn problem set or take-home exam, I would set it aside, go for a run, and more often than not when I got back, I would have the answer. 

Uncertainty. We live in a pretty secure world, all told. Despite the constant fear-mongering that we see in politics and the media, we are living in the safest situations ever seen in human history. When I toe the line at the race, even if I’ve done my homework, I am never sure how the day will go. 

New Beginnings. Years ago, I slipped on a patch of ice. Normally not a big deal, but I had just had shoulder surgery, and could not catch myself. After 8 months of recovery, I joined my first running club, trained for a year, and watched my PRs fall. Every season is a new beginning. Every race is a new beginning. Every run is a new beginning. And that is why I run. 

Why do you run?

That’s a question with as many answers as there are runners. It’s a question every runner gets asked on a regular basis. And it’s a question I’ve asked myself on many a below-zero morning in Minnesota since I moved back here from Boulder, Colorado. 

I started running in my senior high school on my doctor’s advice. I had trashed my knees with 12 years of soccer, and they were, in the doctor’s words, disintegrating. He suggested a number of exercises I should do, and added in passing that running might be a good idea for me. That’s right, in the year 2000, I had a doctor tell me to run for the sake of my knees. I was lucky. 

I also started running because of a girl, but that’s another story. 

Six years later, in Boulder, Colorado, I slipped on a patch of ice. Not normally a big deal. But I had just had shoulder surgery two months earlier, and could not catch myself. After walking home from, past the ER, I called my sister to take me to the (same) ER, and found out I had broken my leg. A half millimeter more separation between the pieces and the doctor would have put a plate in. But since he was the same doctor who did my shoulder, and didn’t want to see any more of my insides (his words), he let it heal naturally. After 8 months of recovery and rehab, I joined a running group, and a year later my PRs started falling like rain. 

Last year, I moved back from Boulder to Minnesota and the coldest winter in recent memory. Despite -20 degree temperatures and record snowfall, I met more people through running than any other way. 

If you haven’t caught it yet, I run for new beginnings. Every season is a new beginning. Every race is a new beginning. Every run is a new beginning. Whatever else is happening in my life, running always gives me a fresh start.