Epic Phone Fail

Last week, G and I decided to take a last-minute trip up the Shore to get a relaxing weekend in.  The family was busy, so we opted to stay in a lodge/resort a little north of Two Harbors and really treat ourselves for once. With the forecast calling for highs in the 50s-60s, I figured it would be a good weekend to get a few miles in on the Superior Hiking Trail.

Despite warnings of ice and deep snow over the ridge, I figured I'd be all right with some screws in my shoes. I always had been before. So Saturday morning, I packed up my water, phone, and a couple snacks in my UD AK Race Vest, drove the mile or so up the road to Gooseberry (start of the Superior 100), and took off up the trail.

I realized early on that this was not going to be a fast run, and that there was no avoiding picking my way around the ice patches that covered the trail. But it was a gorgeous blue-bird day in March in Minnesota, I was getting warm in my long sleeves and capris, and there was no way I was going to turn around even if my pace was hovering around the 12 minute mile area.

A mile or so in, I reached an area where the meltwater had completely covered the trail, which was cambered sideways towards the river, and had frozen the night before.

I grabbed on to a small tree on the uphill side of the trail, planning to pick my way from tree to tree across the short stretch of ice. But the second tree was just inches out of my reach. I decided to go for it, only to have the second tree move, landing my flat on my back.

That second "tree" was actually a tree branch that had improbably fallen at a straight vertical angle, flush to the ice. When I grabbed for it, it swung out of the way, leaving me sliding down the ice on my back before I knew what was happening. It was one of those "wait, the sky's not supposed to be there" moments of utter confusion.

Picking myself up, and checking my elbow to be sure there wasn't any significant injury, I continued up the trail to the Upper Falls.

The Falls were beautiful, but the light wasn't right for a picture.

Which, as it turns out, I would not have been able to take any way. Another mile up the road, I opened my pack to take out my phone, planning to take a picture of the Lake, and it crunched, audibly.

The screen on my 3-week-old phone was, in a word, powdered.

That sucked the joy and the wind out of my run. I opted to head back down to the main falls area and finish the run, which ended up being about 3 miles.

The rest of the day was fantastic: we walked the breakwater in Two Harbors, got a massage, toured Castle Danger Brewery, and ended out with a fire, which we somehow managed to light in the middle of a two-inch deep puddle.

The phone itself was a complete loss, but Apple replaced it for 40% of the cost of a new phone, which is better than it could be.

Still, it set the record for my most expensive run ever.

An Average, Everyday Run

This morning, while getting ready to go out for yet another base mileage run, I realized something: while I often write about my big runs, the long runs and the races, I have never written about an average, everyday base run unless something extraordinary happens. These runs make up probably three-quarters of my daily runs, but I have never written about one from start to finish, with all the little quirks and nuances that go with them. On thinking of this, I realized that this would fit my general goal for the year of practicing mindfulness, being present and aware in the moment. So I set out this morning with the goal of doing just that.

The irony, of course, is that by focusing so much on what I might write in this post I was probably more distracted and less mindful on this run that usual. I hope it was worth it.



Today was like many days, running-wise. I had a little more trouble waking up than usual. My training has again kicked up (it seems like that's always the case), and I have stayed up later than usual several times in the last week. After my normal morning rituals of meditation, writing, and catching up on the morning work details, my thoughts turn to my run.

With the additional mileage, the strength workouts, and the addition of Parkour to my workout routine, I am carrying some residual fatigue this morning. I've already run a hill workout and a longer base miles run this week, and my legs can feel it, so I leave the length of this run open-ended. It's about 30 degrees out and gloomy, chilly but not too cold, and typical for March in Minnesota. Almost two decades of running has my clothing dialed in. Tights, wool socks, a single, light layer on top, gloves, a thin hat, and the most recent addition: arm warmers. I have had one too many runs where my arms end up numb to leave these behind any more.

The ritual begins: start the GPS on my watch, grab the key, tie the shoes. Head out the back door and out the gate onto the streets.

From my house, the first mile or so of my run is always on sidewalks. Wherever I live, this is always the case. I use these minutes as a warm up, though they are actually one of the fastest-paced portions of my run. However tired my legs may be, within 5 minutes or so they start to loosen up as I take a route I've run half a thousand times before. Turn on to Summit, where the houses are massive. Past the Governor's mansion ("Does he actually live there?" I wonder for the hundredth time), and, finally, on to the path.

The ice patch in the lilacs. 

The "path" is in reality the strip of grass and trees that runs down the center of Summit. It's my bread-and-butter route, and the first section is my favorite: dual rows of lilac trees, a bane of mine when they bloom, but now bare, line the way, occasionally forcing me to duck a branch as I run between them. In the winter, cardinals use this as a roosting spot, and the flash of their red feathers lends a spark of color in an otherwise drab winter world.

Today, the path between the trees is icy, and I have to pick my way down the trail. I could wear my winter shoes, which have sheet metal screws in their soles for traction, but I know from yesterday that this is the only section of ice on the run. That, and a winter's worth of running has worn the screws to the point of irrelevance.

Only one cardinal today.

On down the center of Summit, and up a shallow hill beneath some evergreen trees. The stoplights on this road come exactly every half mile, a fact I use to my advantage when I am doing interval workouts, but today is an irritant. My pace, which sits between 7:20 and 7:40 on the pavement, has dropped to around 8 minutes per mile, a comfortable, natural pace that I can sustain for hours.

I check worriedly for my house key.  It feel out of my pocket a few months ago, on a cold, rainy run on this same route. Ever since then, I have been somewhat paranoid. Whew, it's there. But my drawstring has come untied. Fix that, without breaking stride. Continue running.

Summit is one of the most popular running routes in the Cities, and I can count on one hand the runs that I have not seen another runner. I wonder, though, why so many run on the sidewalks when this strip in the center is so much more pleasant. This is especially pronounced in the winter, where I will often find my footprints from the day before undisturbed in the snow. Today, though, the first runner I see (older, wearing a yellow windbreaker and flannel pajama pants) comes towards me on the same center path.

"Morning."

And on we go.

I have had people ask me, more than a few times, "do you run with music?"

It seems a silly question to me. I presume they are asking "do you run while listening to music, on headphones?" The answer to that is unequivocally "No." But why should that mean I don't run with music. I always have a song going through my head when I run. Today, it's "Bouncin Round the Room," by Phish. It's a song I haven't listened to since college, and I have no clue where it came from today. But there it is: the never-ending round running through my head.

Another stoplight, and then it's on with my run. The path takes a downhill slant, past the college where my parents and my brother went to school. Where my parents got married. Where I almost went. Not for the first time, I wonder if I made the right decision.

I decide to turn around at the next stoplight. No matter if my run is an out-and-back, I always make a tiny loop when I turn around. Sometimes it's around a tree, others a post. Even a man-hole cover will suffice if there's no other landmark. Here, there's a young evergreen that provides a nice looping point to head back up the hill.

Going back the other way, I see differently than I do on the way out. I notice different things. The hill seems a lot steeper on the way back up, though it would not even qualify as a hill in Colorado. I run in a slightly different track, just to mix things up.

I pass my favorite tree. I only really notice it on the way back. It's a big evergreen, with conveniently-large, and sparse, branches poking out at all angles. Some days, I'll stop and do a mini strength workout. I'll do pull-ups on one branch, rows on another, or if I'm ambitious, I'll scramble up as high as I can go. In this tree, I can make it 25 feet or so before the branches start to taper to questionable thickness. Today, though, I already have a strength workout planned for later, so I keep running.

Back towards the lilacs, I decide to skip the ice, and run between the trees and the street.  It's off-camber, but preferable to slipping and possible injury. At yet another stoplight, I jump, grab a crossbar, and do pull-ups until the light turns green. I never used to do this, but it has recently become a ritual for me. It gets some odd looks, but I get a lot of those.

On the sidewalks again, I turn off Summit sooner than I need to. I don't know why I started doing this. I probably just did so one day, to avoid an obstruction on the sidewalk, and I got stuck. I simply jog over one block and back onto the same heading.

In the last mile, I decide to throw in some surges. Form intervals. For 15-30 seconds, I drop the pace to a near-sprint, stretching out my legs and covering ground. These are not to get a workout, just to work on my running efficiency and keep the spring in my legs. Three to four of those, and I'm almost home.

I have a rock stuck in the treads of my shoe. Every other step is accompanied by a small, sharp grating sound. I last a half-block before I have to stop and dig it out. Stubborn little thing requires a stick to pry it out of there. But I am back.

Stop the GPS, walk through the gate, and move on with the day.





And, that's an average, every day run. Stylistically, that's a lot like how my mind works during a run. Sometimes, it goes on long, abstract ramblings. Other times, it's short at to the point.

I hope you enjoyed it, or at least found it interesting.

Transitions

I saw this poor crow on Summit one morning. I wonder how
he ended up sitting so perfectly. 

It seems fitting, somehow, talking about transitions on February 29th.

The last two months have been a transition period for me.

First, it has literally been the transition period of my training. I have been using the training log from "Training for the New Alpinism." While not specifically running-oriented, there are a number of aspects I like about it. First, it breaks everything down into sections (Transition, Base, Specific, and Peak).  There is an annual training plan involved, but it is flexible enough that I feel that I can adapt it to whatever situation comes up in my training.

The transition period has been one of general strength and general fitness. I have gotten noticeably stronger, and trimmer, since starting the transition period. I don't think that I have lost weight, but I certainly have lost the (admittedly limited) fat around my waist. I have not upped my running volume as much as I had originally planned, only reaching 30 or so miles per week, but I have increased it by about 50% over the coasting training I had been doing up until January. And this is with a hiatus at the beginning of February when I pulled my groin (apparently).

The second transition has been into Parkour again. For the month of January, we went once a week, for an hour or so. Into February, we entered a new class level, and started going twice a week, and occasionally for longer periods of time. Now, with the class schedule changing a little, it looks like we might push that up again to three times per week, depending on how we feel. Again, I fully believe that Parkour makes me a better, or at least more injury-proof, trail runner. It increases my strength and agility, and at the same time gives me more options to get around any obstacles that may come up.

I may have to do some obstacle races this year.

Moving on into base training, it's time to focus more on time on my feet, and getting 1-2 specific workouts in each week. I think Fartlek runs and LT runs are again going to be my staples. And I will certainly be throwing some hill workouts into the mix.

More to come, certainly. I hope to have more pictures, and maybe a video or two, in the coming months.

An Update

Last Ice Beard of the season (probably)

I have been quite awful about keeping up with this blog lately. Not surprisingly, this has coincided with a bit of a reduction in my running, due to several factors.

The primary motivating factor happened several weeks ago now. I recently started in on Parkour training again, in addition to my running and climbing (climbing has fallen off lately, but that's ok). After a few weeks of this, I got a sudden, sharp pain in my groin that would not go away. Knowing my family history, I assumed it was a hernia and stopped running.

Sure enough, I went to the doctor, and he found a (small) hernia. He said it was tiny, and didn't necessarily need any surgery, or even a reduction in my current workout routine. Nonetheless, running was pretty uncomfortable for a week or so, and I dropped off considerably for a while.

I made an appointment with a surgeon, to see what the benefits and drawbacks of getting surgery immediately (read: in the off-season) might be. Lo and behold, at the appointment, the surgeon found no sign of a hernia at all! I was feeling better, and so tried to get back into running a full schedule again.

Pike Island Skiing. Snow's gone now. 

I have also now upped my Parkour workouts from once a week to twice a week. While these are not running-specific workouts, I think over all they considerably help me in my trail running. They certainly boost my overall power, with the jumping and vaulting involved. I also think the increase my resistance to injury. There are so many different forces coming from so many different angles that my legs adapt to more situations. Hopefully this will translate into running.

Even if it doesn't, I enjoy Parkour too much to quit.

Did I mention I also do two strength workouts a week?

With all of that, my running workouts have suffered a bit, both in distance and in intensity. But now my body seems to be adjusting to the increased workload, and I'm hoping that in the next few weeks I can begin to up my running time again. At the very least, I need to start getting in a longish run on Saturday morning, and a fartlek or similar sometime during the week.

As is this snow. 

The Value of Adversity

By just about anybody's definition, this week has been cold. Monday through Wednesday, my runs took place in below zero temperatures. After a brief respite on Thursday and Friday, it dropped again this morning, with a 1:45 run in 0 degree temperatures with a 15 mph wind.

I ran outside every day this week. It took a bit of mental effort each day to get out the door into the cold, but I didn't regret it once.

Part of that is simply that I know how to dress for this weather. As my friend's dad, and others, have said: "There's no such thing as bad weather, just insufficient clothing." I've heard it with "preparation" in place of "clothing" as well, but the sentiment remains the same. As long as you're ready for it, cold weather doesn't have to force you indoors.

Besides that mental push to get out the door, though, I have always found that I thrive in this sort of weather. Once I get out the door, the cold ceases to be a barrier and becomes more of an adversary. It gives me something to run against, and I always feel great when I come back in from the cold.

The other aspect of it is, for me, the cold is beautiful Wednesday morning, in 0-degree temperatures, in the space of ten steps, I saw three bright red  male cardinals and a brilliant Blue Jay in a stretch of Lilac trees I run through most days.

Today was arguably the biggest test. I woke up to 0 degree temperatures with -20 windchill, with my longest run yet of the training cycle scheduled for the morning. I will admit to being a little apprehensive, despite the successful week of training in the cold. My prior cold outings had been less than 45 minutes. Extending that out by an hour seemed daunting at best. I gave myself the option of cutting the run short if I decided it was too much.

Quite the opposite happened. Today was my best run so far. While I was initially sore from the week, and from ice skating the night before (those stabilizer muscles are getting a workout), I felt stronger as the run went on. A bit more than an hour in, I had fully honed in on the elusive "zone,"  and was actually picking up the pace at the end of the run.

Sometimes that happens. And sometimes life throws a wrench your way, as it would later in the week.

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.