Group Running

I, like most runners I know, generally run on my own. There was a time a few years ago when I regularly ran with a training club, and over the years there have been a few people I would regularly go out for runs with. But for the most part, my day-to-day runs are done alone. Normally, I enjoy company on my runs, but my experience today reminded me just why I normally run solo.

I got into work a bit later than usual this morning, since my girlfriend was heading to San Francisco for a grad school interview and I wanted just a little extra time with her. The second I got to my workspace, my coworker poked his head over the divider and asked if I would like to go for a run at lunch.

Naturally, I said yes.

As I said, I often relish company on a run, but there are times when I do not enjoy it as much.

We stepped out of the door into a beautiful, crisp, sunny spring day and my first warning. The two guys (and the fact that they're guys is important) started talking about where we should run today, and we settled on the Sanitas Valley Trail. I was not planning on doing any sort of elevation that day, and the run itself would be longer than I had planned for the day, but I decided to hang with them any way.

Both set out at a surprising clip on the Creek path. Not to sound cocky, but I rarely feel at all slow in comparison to other runners. When out on the trails, I am almost never passed by anybody else, and I run in Boulder. So when I say they took off at a good clip, they were booking it. I was still feeling the week before, which was my longest in over a year, and the pace felt uncomfortably fast. And for my second mistake, I opted to stay with them.

When we cut off up through Red Rocks on our way to Sanitas, I quickly fell behind the lead runner, though I stayed ahead of the third guy. Over the ridge and down to the start of the Valley Trail, we ran together, but as soon as we headed up Dakota ridge, my two coworkers pushed the pace.

My legs just weren't having it, and I was getting annoyed with the pace pushing. As I mentioned in my last post, last week was my longest in a very long time (ended up being 27 miles, still not impressive, but much better than I've been doing), and my legs were definitely feeling it yesterday and today. So, in my first good move of the day, I let them take off, and proceeded up the trail at my own pace.

As it turns out, my running partners faded a bit towards the top, and while I did not end up catching up, I closed the gap a bit at the top. And I did it without pushing my own pace.

On the downhill back to work, I easily caught up with them at an easy pace.

I should have realized this might be an issue when I agreed to the run. First, the guys I ran with today are sporadic runners, but they are in very good shape nonetheless. So while they are not as steady runners as I am, they can hit a good tempo, and their legs are generally fresher than mine will be unless I am tapering. Second, they are guys. I have generally found myself happier running with girls (for some reason I can never call people my own age men or women, it's always guys or girls). Guys have a tendency to make things into a competition. Girls, as a general rule, seem to more easily relax and hit an easy pace when necessary. That is why, in the past several years, I have run far more with girls. The only guy I have run with is a trail running friend of mine who is, like me, comfortable taking it easy.

Will I run with these guys again? Probably. Will I take the lessons I learned today with me? Hopefully, although I cannot make any promises on that count.

Back to the Trails

This morning, despite the drama of the night before (I'll get to it later), I decided to head up to the South Mesa Trailhead for a good, longish trail run. My original plan was to head up Shadow Canyon and hit South Boulder Peak and, if I was feeling alright, Bear Peak afterwards.

After a good 15 minutes of very slow running up the first long, slow haul on South Mesa Trail, I got to the cutoff to Shadow Canyon to find that the whole area was closed on account of breeding raptors. Discouraged and a bit annoyed by this at first, it may have ended up being a blessing in disguise: even without the climb up South Boulder, I probably put more climbing in today than I have in the past month of running around Westminster and on the Creek path.

I ended up going much farther than I anticipated, hitting one of my normal turnaround points when coming from the other direction and heading back for a good eight mile loop. That puts me a bit over 22 for the week. With a decent run tomorrow, I should easily hit my 26 mile goal, assuming I don't suffer any ill effects from the run today.

Suffice to say it was wonderful to get back on some honest trails today. For those who haven't been there, the south Mesa trail starts on a long, gradual uphill smooth enough to drive a Honda Civic up if you wanted to and it weren't several forms of illegal. Around two miles (maybe?) in, the trail evolves into double track, and then some rather gnarly track-and-a-half. If I had taken my camera along today, I'd show a picture to demonstrate. I soon found myself wishing for actual trail running shoes, as my Brooks Green Silence racing flats just don't cut it on the Boulder trails.

All told, and as usual, my legs felt far better on the trails than they do on the roads, or what passes for trails, around here. This is despite the undoubtably more difficult nature of the running. I think it has more to do with the varied nature of the terrain, which involves a larger array of muscles than you use on the road (stabilizers especially). All in all, it was a great way to top out what was already an excellent week of running. My mileage is increasing steadily, but not too quickly, and I have hopes of getting some excellent runs in this summer.

What surprised me on my run today, tying in with my last post, was the number of people running on the trails with headphones. I find this unfathomable: why would you disconnect yourself from your run that way? You're running on some of the most beautiful trails around, and listening to them is at least as important as seeing and feeling them. I even saw two people obviously running together, each with their headphones in.

I cannot understand that, and it will never be me.

As for the aforementioned drama, we brought home a new cat last night. So far, the introduction to our, admittedly bad, cat has gone reasonably well. Far better than I expected, actually, as our cat has not yet physically attacked the new adoption. However, the combination of cats did not make for the best night's sleep, and had me a bit worried about how the run would go today.

And the introduction continues. It seems to have actually taken a downhill turn this morning. Last night Jacques, our aforementioned bad cat, has hissed and growled at Gabby (assuming that's the name we switch to, rather than Butters). This morning, he proceeded to hiss at me as well.

This is not ok, clearly, and we shall have to find a way to stop it.

The Headphone Question

When people meet me in a running context, or learn about my running in an outside contest, the question that almost inevitably comes up (besides the "Why do you run?" question) is: "Do you wear headphones/listen to music when you run?" Following that up is the also inevitable "Why not?" or "How do you not go crazy without music?"

There are two primary reasons I don't listen to external sources of music while I run. Note the careful phrasing there, since it is critical to the second reason.

The first reason is put in perspective by an occurrence on my run today. I was, as is my routine, running along the creek on my lunch break. I had spotted a girl running in front of me several minutes prior, and had been steadily catching up. When I did, we were on a relatively narrow (track and a half?) stretch of trail.

Just before I went to pass her, she moved aside for two people running in the other direction. I dutifully said "coming by on your left!" and to my surprise, she failed to move and continued running down the center of the path. This seemed to me very odd, and forced me to run up off of the trail, something I try to avoid doing, and pass her on the right, also something I try to avoid doing.

As I passed, I noted that she had headphones in, and was therefore blissfully unaware, and (most likely unintentionally) discourteous to me.

That is the first reason I do not wear headphones while I run, or do anything else other than sitting on the bus or at work. Headphones removes you from your situation. It isolates you in a way that most people are generally unaware of. When I run, I often am forced to run in cities, and therefore have to deal with traffic. Being able to hear the traffic is critical to my safety and to others'. Even on trails, as demonstrated today, headphones isolate you from outside feedback, such as other runners (or bikers!) coming up behind you.

Added to this, and part of the same reason, is that when I run, I love to get the whole experience. I do not like to be removed from the environment in which I am running. Hearing the birdsong, the wind, the traffic, other people, is a critical part of my run. And combining it with the sights, smells, and even the tastes completes the experience.

The second reason simply negates the last question. The assumption people make is that, without an external source, I am without music on my runs. The simple fact of the matter is that I cannot remember the last time I ran when I did not have a song of some sort running through my head. I always have music, it just doesn't always come from outside.

In a simple form, I do not wear headphones when I run because I do not need them, and I find they detract from the run. I run because I love running, and I do not need, or want, anything to distract me from it.

Fitting it all in.

I realized yesterday that it had been far too long since I had written here. In all fairness, I have not been able to get as much writing, or running, as I would like in lately. I started a new job three weeks ago, and have been sorting out my schedule ever since. I realize that I have joined the majority of American writers and runners who have to make time in their lives for their passions as well as their work. There are the lucky few for whom those two match up perfectly, but for most it is a constant challenge.

For now, I will focus on the challenge of running, and otherwise keeping fit, while working and, if you are like most of the country, commuting. My new job is reasonably close to my apartment, but still far enough away that the commute is significant: half an hour or more in a car and around an hour by bus. I have chosen to take the bus for a variety of reasons, the most pertinent being expense, the lack of stress, and my general philosophy.

The simple math is this: I spend two hours a day on the bus, or waiting for a bus, and approximately eight hours or more at work. This schedule leaves much less time for running than I am used to having. I am not willing to sacrifice my running time for work, so when do I fit it in?

For the first week and a bit, I tried running first thing in the morning, right after I wake up. This failed for a variety of reasons. The first reason is that I am almost always stiff and sore immediately after I wake up, which does not make for a great run. Second, I usually wake up to a grumbling stomach, which leaves me with little fuel for a run longer than about three miles. Running in the morning also tends to make the whole morning that much more hectic.

So I thought I would try running after I get home from work. I found more problems with this method. Again, by the time I get home from work, I generally am ready to make and eat dinner as soon as possible. A half-hour run and subsequent shower push dinner to seven at the earliest. By the time I would be ready to run after dinner, it could be as late as nine at night, leaving me to run right before bed.

Fortunately, I work in Boulder, Colorado, a rather unique place in several respects. There seem to be more runners per capita in Boulder than anywhere else I have experienced. This means several things. There are far more trails in Boulder than most cities, whether you prefer bike paths or, as I do, more technical trails. Wherever you happen to be in Boulder, there is a trail within easy running distance.

The number of runners in Boulder, and athletes in general, also means that people expect you to be an athlete. My office is equipped with a changing room and a shower for those of us who choose to exercise from work. And that is just what I have begun to do.

Most days, I run around lunch time. This allows me to get much of my work done in the morning, when I am at my best mentally. Similarly, it allows me to get outdoors at lunch, refreshing myself in the middle of the day. I also seem to think and work better after I run, which in turn allows me to get more done in the afternoon than I might otherwise.

This system is working so well for me that, far from not getting enough running in, I am now at risk of running too much too soon and injuring myself. I have had to cut down on the length of my runs in the past few days so I do not overdo it.

That is my solution to the question of when to fit my running in. As for my writing, which is also very important to me, I have not found a good solution yet. I find myself wishing that I had actually gotten the smaller version of the MacBook Air, so that I might get writing in on the bus and during downtime at work. As it is, I always bring two books with me to help pass the time.

New Website

For anybody looking for one of my longer, introspective posts: prepare to be disappointed. Some point in the near future I will tell the story of trying out snowboarding for the first time last weekend, but right now I am limiting myself.

I found a new website this morning that anybody interested in the general nature of this blog might find interesting. It's called VentureThere.com and it features articles and blogs on all the various adventure sports out there.

The first blog post I read was about 10 Rules for running with your dog. As I hope to get a dog in the near future, and hope to run with my hypothetical dog, it presented a few good tips for me. As I find more of interest on the site, I'll try to link to a few more good posts here.

Fate or Choice?

A thought struck me on my run today: was I destined to be a distance runner, or was it by choice?

The answer is that I am not sure. For a long time I thought it was a choice. For most of high school, I was actually a sprinter. I have always had natural speed in the short distances. I was the fastest player on my soccer teams from as long ago as I can remember. When I joined the track team in eight grade, I naturally gravitated towards the sprinting team and, dislocated hip notwithstanding, I did fairly well.

I continued sprinting for the next three years, and by 10th and 11th grade I was regularly performing quite well, particularly in the long jump and some of the longer sprints. It was not until my senior year of high school that I opted into longer distances. I was unsuccessful at first, for a variety of reasons including the orthotics problems I mentioned in a prior post.

Looking back now, however, I wonder if it was fate, in the form of genetics, that led me ultimately to longer and longer distances.

The first time I recall competing in any sort of running events was when I was in England for my Kindergarten year. I only have vague recollections, but there are pictures of me performing rather well in my school's athletics day. I am not certain this is true, but I get the distinct impression that I probably did well during the latter half of those races, which was a pattern that would repeat itself throughout my life.

Over the next several years, I did not race very often, but I was always on a soccer team. I did not necessarily like running, but I was always quick. When I next competed in an honest race I believe I was in fourth grade. Every year one of the local high school tracks hosted a junior track meet. I did not race the "long" races (200 and 400m) but I did well in the 100. And unless I am much mistaken, I did very well in the second half of the race.

The pattern continued throughout the next several years. I noticed time and again that I could keep running throughout a soccer game without as much trouble as the rest of my teammates. This was a distinct advantage for me playing stopper (a central defender who generally ranges over the entire field). It also allowed my coaches to make full use of my primary ability: my extraordinarily long throw-in. By the time I was a senior in high school, I was able to hit the far goalpost from the half-line of the field, making teams reluctant to ever play the ball out of bounds. My speed and endurance allowed me to use this ability and still get back to defend if necessary.

The first time I ran a mile, I should have realized that I was destined for distance. We ran the dreaded "mile run" for gym class: 11 laps of the basketball court inside. Without realize at the time what it might mean, despite never having run more than 400 meters at a stretch before, and despite the less-than-ideal "track," I ran the mile in 7 minutes flat, leaving my classmates far behind.

That accomplishment notwithstanding, I proceeded the next year to join the sprinting team in track, primarily because that's what most of my friends were doing. I did well enough, placing in some events, and anchoring my relay teams. My spring season in 8th grade was cut short when I dislocated my hip anchoring the 4x200m relay.

I distinctly remember parents in the stands telling me to "walk it off."

Being young, I recovered fairly quickly, with at least one relapse. By the next spring, I was again running with the sprint team. When once again it was time for the "Presidential Fitness Tests," I ran the mile with my friend from the sprinting team. We finished with a time of 6 minutes this time, 30 seconds back from one of the distance runners in our grade. Again, I should have realized that I would be a good distance runner.

Naturally, I did not. I continued sprinting and in 10th grade had a breakout year. I started placing regularly in major meets in the long jump. I started anchoring both the 4x100 and 4x200 teams, when my coach discovered that I didn't want to relinquish a place once I had it. Had I been paying attention, I might have noticed that I was also quite good at the 400, and in fact the longer the race was, the better I did.

I did not notice this fact, and was named captain of the sprint team in what turned out to be a disappointing Junior track season. It was not until the next fall, when I started having knee problems, that two pivotal events happened. First, my doctor prescribed running to strengthen my knees, and second, possibly more importantly, I started dating a distance runner.

I got demoted that spring. I joined the distance runners, and so was no longer a captain. That was all to the good, as I was again plagued by injuries that season. But something had changed. I was now a distance runner to the core.

The pattern still continues: the longer the distance I run, the better I do. I did well in the 1000 meters in college. When I recovered from my broken ankle several years ago, I started running 5ks and 10ks, and did very well. Then I ran my first half marathon, which started with a 1.5 mile, 1500 foot climb up the side of a ski hill, and finished in the top 10% of a stacked field.

I have found that there is more to the pattern even than I thought. It is not simply that I perform better with increasing distance, I get better with increasing difficulty in general. Who knows what might be next? I am thinking of trying yet longer trail races, or possibly the Pikes Peak Ascent. But I can only conclude that, for me, it was fate and genetics that led me to distance running. Looking back at my own running history, I can't come to any other conclusion.

Winter Running Tips

I said yesterday that winter had returned with a vengeance. Well, they say revenge is a dish best served cold, and I think Mother Nature agrees. The high today is -1 with a significant. Nevertheless, I duly ran outside this morning.

It occurred to me after finishing my post yesterday that, if I encourage people to run outside on the coldest days in the winter, I should probably give some tips on how to do so safely. This morning gave me the opportunity to demonstrate this. So without further ado, here are some things I keep in mind. They are not necessarily scientific, but they work for me.

The major idea is preparation: you have to be ready for it. This includes clothing, of course. But it also includes preparing your body, and lest I forget, your mind.

Clothing: I heard a suggestion the other day to "dress like a bank robber." It sounds silly, but it's true. On days where it gets below zero Fahrenheit, exposed skin can freeze in a matter of minutes, particularly with any sort of wind. My rule of thumb for dressing is that I would like, for any run, to be about as warm as I am in shorts and a shirt in 55 degree, cloudy weather. But always remember it's easier to take off a layer that you end up not needing than going without it. More specifically, here is what I like to wear:

Head: I wear a hat when it gets below freezing. Anything down to 10 degrees and it's a thin Smartwool number. Below that, and I wear a fleece hat. For days below -10 or -20, I might wear both. I always wear sunglasses of some sort, which serve to provide a barrier between my eyes and the wind. Were I to live in a colder place, I might consider goggles that would not fog up and freeze. And on my neck, I wear a Buff, which is a thin neck-muff type protector that is thin enough to breathe through if necessary. On particularly cold days, I put it up over my nose to cover my face. This serves the dual purpose of capturing moisture and reintroducing it into your lungs. Otherwise the dry, cold air can be quite the shock.

Torso: Today I wore a thick Asics underlayer beneath a thin GoLite wind shell. I rarely wear more than two layers, as I overheat easily. The wind shell has pit-zips, which allow you to cool off somewhat without removing the wind protection provided by the shell.

Hands: Down to 25, I wear thin gloves designed for bicycling or just liner gloves. Below that, I prefer Lobster glove, which bridge the gap between mittens and gloves by splitting a mitten down the middle. Pearl Izumi and Swix make good versions. Today I wore liner gloves inside the Lobster gloves, which worked well.

Legs: Above freezing I almost always wear shorts. Below I have two pairs of running tights: a thin pair by GoLite and a thick pair by XC. If it's particularly windy I will wear windpants of some sort over tights or long underwear. If particularly cold, moreso than today, I will wear long underwear under the XC tights.

Feet: Feet are key to any runner. Don't neglect them. I wear Smartwool PhD socks in my shoes and have not had trouble with cold feet, though my toes are not as sensitive to the cold as some people's may be. And, for traction, I have a pair of "Get-a-Grips." They are rubber outsoles that strap onto your shoe, and have six tiny carbide spikes for grip. Some prefer YakTrax, but I find they put odd pressure points on the sole of my foot. For snowy trail runs, I have a pair of Kahtoola Microspikes, which are close to being crampons of the sort mountaineers might use.

Body: The first point in preparing your body is hydration. Most runners pay better attention to hydration in the summer than the winter. This is a common mistake. The dry air in the winter sucks water out of your lungs and actually can dehydrate you more quickly than the summer sun. It is equally important to hydrate before and after your run in the winter.

The second point in preparing your body is getting a good warm up in. Do not stay indoors too long once you have your cold weather gear on: you risk overheating and then leave yourself at risk to get chilled outside. Rather, as soon as you are ready, step out the door. The cold will always be a shock, expect this. Once you get over the initial shock, or even beforehand, start running slowly. As you warm up, you can increase your pace to whatever workout you are planning that day.

Mind: This ties in with body. The cold is always a shock. There is no getting around the fact that, when you step out the door in below-zero weather, your body is not happy. Acknowledge this fact, accept it, and expect it. Once you get outside and warmed up, it is much easier to keep going.

The second point in the mind category is pay attention. Running in the cold is all well and good as long as you pay attention to what your body is telling you and act accordingly. If your toes are getting numb, go home. If you start shivering and can't warm up, go home and take a warm, not hot, shower. Don't ignore what your body and mind are telling you.

I have no better place to put the next tip, but it seems to tie in with the previous point so I will place it here: take care to plan your route. In cold weather, whatever length of run you might be planning, stay a short run from home. That way if you get in any sort of trouble, you can quickly retreat with minimal consequences.

In some other post, probably in the next several days, I will tell a story about a run where I ignored the above advice. Suffice to say it was not pretty, and the consequences were lasting.