Real Running is Live

I hope both of my readers will join me over on my new blog project: Real Running.
Real Running is a new feature of Northwest Runner magazine. I will have a monthly piece in the magazine and a weekly blog update.

Come on. Be my first followers!

You can also Real Running on Twitter: http://twitter.com/realrunning

The Road. To Recovery. Not the Cormac McCarthy Abomination...

Back on the Road
It has officially been 2 weeks since the Seattle Marathon, during which my suspension went out at about mile 21 or so. After doing my chores around the house today (I'm such a loyal house elf!) I could barely resist the urge to put on the mud shoes and go for a run in the pouring rain, but somehow I managed to show restraint (there's a first for everything) and instead pulled the old neglected Fuji off the hooks and took her out for a little 12 mile spin from The Shack to Matthews Beach and back.

One way to assure solitude on the Burke Gilman Trail is to ride it during a winter monsoon! It was actually glorious to ride through the wet leaves and puddles and never see another soul. Truly glorious. Of course, the Fuji is in desperate need of a tune up, and my riding is horrible and hesitant. But still, it's exercise.

The verdict? 12 mile at around 20 miles per hour and the killer climb back up to The Shack and no apparent problems. Great, right?

I'm not so sure. Being a lifetime skeptic, I have at least a little bit of me that was hoping there was some muscle pain after the ride. Why does it only hurt when I run on it? Is it really as simple as the iliopsoas strain Dr. Hilarious thinks it is?

We'll see. Next up: an easy 3 miles tomorrow on The Boringest Oval on Earth.

In Other News

• The Seattle Mariners are threatening to play actual baseball next year. This particular know-it-all fan and armchair critic thinks they are now only one Jason Bay signing away from contending for the American League pennant.
• Yours truly is going to spend the next 3-4 months trying to actually get Northlake Runners up and, well, running. If you read this blog, you should read the other and help get the numbers going. Once spring hits I hope we'll be holding regular group runs. Also keep on the lookout for an Ebook of local running routes and recommendations...T-shirts and stickers coming soon, too!
  
• I'm a fan of beer in general, but I want to just remind everyone that it is winter ale season, and if you haven't had a few Snow Cap Ales from Pyramid Brewing, you are behind schedule. Snow Cap is the best winter ale. Sorry Deschutes and Redhook (Jubelale and Winterhook, respectively). Pyramid makes one truly good beer, and this is it. Rumor is that I am running low at the moment.
• I read somewhere that ink jet ink is the single most expensive liquid a regular consumer can purchase. After refilling all three household printers today, I believe it. What kind of racket is this?
  
• This morning the following picture come across my screen saver slide show, and realizing it was but mid-December, I wept quietly in the dark corner of my office:
  

Around Alone

Just in case any of you are out there looking for something to do with your gobs of leisure time, be sure to follow the adventure of 16 year old Jessica Watson, who is attempting to become the youngest person to sail solo, unassisted, non-stop, around the world.

Her blog is fascinating. She is so clearly a kid (she recently installed safety straps down below for her stuffed animal "crew" in anticipation of the rough conditions in the Southern Ocean) but she is handling the fear, loneliness, and boredom with the sort of honesty and self-consciousness that you wouldn't expect from someone so young.

What were you doing when you were 16? Not this.

It's Hip to be Hurt

More adventures with Dr. Hilarious

After my total train wreck at the Seattle Marathon last week, I went to see Dr. Hilarious (now sporting the Daughtry shaved-head, full beard look...not good on anyone but Daughtry) about my Hip pain.

He asked me the usual question: "Why do you keep running?"

But then he very professionally launched into his 5 minute diagnosis, which involved torquing my leg around and pushing and pulling on my feet and legs:

Q: Does this hurt?
A: If does when you f-ing yank on it like that, yes. Yes it does.

Q: How bad is the pain?
A: It hurts just about as much as listening to Hannah Montana, but not as much as listening to Lady Gaga.

He poked around a little more and isolated the pain point, eliminating some other possible problems. He seemed satisfied that it wasn't some internal organ going on strike and that nothing was broken or totally destroyed.

You gotta love it when your doctor says, "This is the first time I've ever seen a patient actually manage to do this. Good job! You hear about this injury in med school, but you never see it. Awesome. You injured the iliopsoas muscle in your hip!"

He seemed very excited.

The iliopsis is one of the big core muscles that you use all the time. Sitting, standing, walking, running...everything. And like the hernia I suffered before, this is an injury that occurs late in training after the other muscles have fatigued and given up. The leg muscles get tired, the ab muscles get tired, and they all figure that big old muscle that is keeping you upright can take over and hold things together for a while. This explains why it was sore after training runs of 18 miles or more and why everything felt great in the race until mile 20 or so.

I'm getting a little sick of this whole injury thing, but at least this one doesn't require Dr. (Do No) Harm to cut into me. What it requires is resting the muscle (impossible unless you are floating in zero gravity, by the way) and some investigation into my running stride and my shoes.

And like I said I was going to do before, I need to actually suck it up and do some core strength training. I thought my rippling, chiseled six-pack abs were enough, but apparently I need to do more. We can all get together an bounce quarters off my stomach sometime this spring.

In the meantime, off we go to the podiatrist! I can't help but entertain images of clunking around in corrective shoes and leg braces. Run Forrest, Run!

So the good doc charged out of the room after writing me a referral and went to deal with his 30th patient with a cold who thought they were dying from swine flu. Awesome.

Useless Data Department

• In the past 365 days I have logged 965 miles of running, burning 74,000 calories.
• There are 8 pair of running shoes in my closet, but only really like 3 of them. One is brand new and will likely never see a single mile of running. Why do I keep them?
• Of the 90 students who started the term in my English 101 classes, 50 submitted a final paper.
• I have looked at the Fuji - currently hanging in my office - 24 times in the last week and thought: I should really ride that thing more often.
• I have taken the Fuji off the hooks and out for a ride 0 times in the last 4 months.
• I have recently noticed my speech habit of saying "I mean..." to start sentences and when I reach 5 instances of using the phrase in one conversation I punish myself by listening to a podcast of MathDude.

Upcoming...

With Owen pushing, it looks like I might get some trail shoes and take to the mountains for some of my next training plan. Seems like a decent idea, and maybe it will keep me from injury? Who knows. But I don't mind getting dirty once in a while.

Also Upcoming...

Work has started on a new running club up here on the northend of the lake. Look for a website, a book of running routes, and some Facebook presence soon! I'll expect both of my readers to join us, of course.

Please Leave a Message

If you are receiving this message between June 19th and July 7th, 2010, GVB will be unavailable while he travels with The Colleague and several students in Kenya. Beeeeeeep.

Race Report: Seattle Marathon

My second attempt at the Seattle Marathon was both much, much better than the first and much, much worse. My initial Twitter and Facebook post after the race said that I finished and that I didn't want to talk about it. It's true: I did finish. But I guess I'll tell you about it after all.

I know both of my readers have been waiting for the blow-by-blow of my latest 26.2 mile adventure, so here it is. I should note that whatever is depleted from my brain while running a marathon has yet to be fully restored, so the words that follow might become incomprehensible at some point.

Pre-Race
Leading up to the race I felt pretty damn good. I had four good long runs under my belt, two of them at 20 miles. I wasn't injured. The weather forecast was good. I had a good race plan. I was even pretty damn close to my desired race weight for the first time.

All of that didn't stop me from the usual pre-race insomnia, however. As is always the case, I went to bed early and pretty much just lay there listening to The Colleague sleep. That girl can sleep. Who knows how much sleep I actually got. The alarm rang at 4:30 and I had a solid breakfast, tested before my last long run (toast, banana and black coffee...not my usual go-to meal).

The Colleague delivered me to Seattle Center one-hour before the start, which gave me plenty of time to make it over to the double-secret indoor, heated bathrooms at Memorial Stadium. While thousands of half marathoners queued for the port-o-johns, I had a leisurely time of it with a few people who must have also been given the secret map to the hidden bathroom deep beneath the aging stadium. By the way, the news this week that the city and the Seattle School District plan to tear down Memorial Stadium will present an interesting task for the marathon organizers...can a Quest Field start and a new course be that far off? Why not start as in the parking lot at Quest and save the leg down 5th Avenue for the finish? (I know the reason: traffic control...but I'm just putting it out there.)

I looked for the usual suspects around the starting area: RPD was somewhere in the masses of half-marathoners, Owen was milling about waiting for the marathon start...but I didn't see either of them.

The Start
The starting area - while too damn small for the 10,000 half-marathoners, is just about right for the number of people running the full 26.2. No need to fight to the front and no worries about herding like cattle through the starting chutes.

I have to say that the start of the Seattle Marathon is pretty lame. The announcer has a shrill, annoying voice, and there is no music or anything going on. They bring in some afternoon DJ from a local pop station who says something stupid and trite, and then they start the race. Every race director should have to go visit the Vancouver Marathon or the Sun Run 10k to see how it should be done.

Soon enough it was 8:15 a.m. and we were off.

The City
Miles one and two head straight through downtown on 5th Avenue. After the uphill start there is a long flat section before climbing as we cross Pike and Pine Streets. Then a long downhill toward Chinatown and King Street Station. Once the race passes the Westin, though, the city is a ghost town. A few rats and some seagulls cheered us on as we approached mile two. Hi guys.

My plan was to go out around 8:00/mile or and see how things felt. At mile two I was averaging 7:45/mile and felt good. I jogged through the water station, had both Gatorade and water, and sucked it up for the climb up onto I-90.

The Bridge
Every god damn year this is a problem. Where the course hits the on-ramp to I-90 near the stadiums, the marathon runners catch up with the half-marathon walkers and some of the slowest marathon walkers. I have NO issues with people walking the course. I think it's great to see everyone out there. But when there is only one traffic lane available to runners and the walkers have been directed to stay on the other side of the barrier, why do large groups of walkers insist on clogging up up the course? One very large group, bedazzled with bells and doodads, was taking up most of the running lane. I guy in front of me yelled at them, I almost collided with one of them when they turned to take a picture of the runners coming up behind them. What the hell?

Still, I reached the top of the ramp holding a nice 7:45 pace. My heart rate was low (160 bpm) and things were feeling good all around. No hernia repair twinges, no sore feet, so muscle pain. Here we go! I shed my 99 cent cotton gloves before the Mount Baker Tunnel (which I still think is the worst part of the course...it's hot, it's loud, and it's chaotic) turned on the iPod, and cruised through to the bridge. This is one of my favorite parts of the course, and I ran these miles fast, knocking my average pace down to 7:30 by the time the out and back was done.

Lake Washington Boulevard, Southbound
With the flashing lights on the police escort for the lead runners barely visible down in Seward Park, I started the southbound slog along the lake. A little headwind kept things cool, and I just cruised along here listening to some choice tunes from Elbow and Marc Cohn. My I stopped checking my watch in here because the tunnel had thrown off my GPS track and it was .25 miles off from the mile markers. Instead I relied on the time keepers at each mile and my feeble brain to calculate my pace. I'm so dense mathematically that it takes a whole mile to figure out my pace, and then I have to do it again! That kept my brain occupied, anyway. 7:30 per mile. Hmmm.

Seward Park
Seward Park is pretty and everything, but having the 13.1 mile split out there on the peninsula is kind of a drag. It's so lonely! I also didn't hear the little machine go "beep" when I crossed the mat, so I knew I wasn't going to get my split in my official results and started worrying that my chip wasn't working.

With a split of 1:39:50, though, I knew I was on a strong pace. I wasn't tired, and I felt a ton better than I had at this point the previous year. 14 miles was where Owen dropped me last time as I fell back into the 8:00s and he cruised to a 3:20:00 finish. This year I came out of Seward Park on pace and feeling great. Heart rate check? 162 bpm. Still not pushing. Good news.

Lake Washington Boulevard Northbound
A little wind on my back, no crowds, good tunes and visions of a strong finish made miles 14-18 great. I knew all I needed to do was get up and over the Madison Street climb and I was home free. At mile 18 I walked a few steps to get a good drink of water and some Gatorade (and to eat Gu pack #4).

When I picked my stride back up after the water station, my right hip, which had been a little sore following my previous two long runs, shot a jolt of pain through my side that made me gnash my teeth and take a little stutter step. Ouch.

We're talking real pain here. Worse than the torn muscle in Portland a few years ago. I couldn't believe it.

At mile 18 or 19 you are getting into survival territory anyway, and the emotions are running pretty high. I tried a few more strides and the pain was just as bad. I walked a few steps and it still hurt - though less so - every time my right foot hit the pavement. No no no no no!

Damn it!

I pulled to the side and tried stretching it out, twisting my leg around, rubbing my hip bone...and tried to keep going. Ouch ouch ouch ouch.

I still have no idea what the problem is, and a day after the race it still hurts pretty bad, though it is getting better slowly. I'm resisting self-diagnosis and will see Dr. Hilarious this week for the inevitable lecture on how running is stupid (see previous post and the transcript of any number of conversations between me and The Colleague). No doubt this will end in some referrals to physical therapists and podiatrists. Update to come.

So I'm at mile 18.5. I can't run. But I can't quit either. My idiot logic tells me at this point to run a mile with the pain to see if it gets worse. So I grit my teeth and run at about an 11:00 pace through the next mile.

Galer Street and The Arboretum
Watch these splits and try to pinpoint where the wheels come off completely:

Mile 16: 7:42
Mile 17: 8:15
Mile 18: 8:14
Mile 19: 9:10
Mile 20: 8:39
Mile 21: 11:39
Mile 22: 12:42

If you picked mile 21, congratulations! That's where I just couldn't bite my lip hard enough to work through the pain and keep a decent pace.

I just couldn't do it any more. The pain was unbearable. As I limped up Galer Street and over Madison, I started to lose it. I wanted to quit but I couldn't! The Colleague and the offspring were at the finish line, watching the clock approach my goal time (3:30:00). I knew that once the clock hit 3:31:00 The Colleague would be disappointed for me. And I knew that when it hit 3:45:00 she would start to worry. If it hit 4:00:00 she'd know something was really wrong.

I could stop at the medical tent and have them call her and tell her I was done. Yep. That's what I'll do. Problem: In my runner's stupor, with my body going into survival mode, I could not, no matter how hard I tried, come up with her phone number. I think I got all of the numbers right, but not in the right order. Damn.

For some reason I "ran" by the medical tent on Madison street and made my way to the Arboretum. I love this part of the course, but I have yet to get to it with any hope of actually running it. Somewhere in here is where I managed to calculate what it would take to finish under 4 hours. If I couldn't do that, I wasn't going to finish. A 13 minute pace would do it. 13 minutes per mile for 4 miles, much of it downhill. Ok. Let's go.

You can't call what I did for the last 4 miles actual running. I don't think my right foot ever left the pavement. It was more of a slide-step. But I held 13:00/mile. I stopped at the water stations and drank my fill. I joined the other dead runners as we zombied our way toward Memorial Stadium. 4 miles of pure agony, but I figured it was better to go as fast as possible and get it over with than to walk it and keep The Colleague worrying about me.

The Finish
With about 4 minutes to spare under the 4 hour mark, I came into the stadium, trying not to cry when I saw The Colleague and the offspring. For no calculated reason I ran right over to them, grabbed the kids, lifted them over the fence and ran to the finish holding their hands.

That little moment made the run worth it. I hope there is a picture of the finish out there somewhere...

I've written here before about the emotions of marathon running and the impossibility of expressing them to others. I went through about every feeling I can imagine during this race, and I can honestly say that I would have quit at mile 20 if The Colleague hadn't been at the finish. Thanks, as always, for being out there babe.

The Aftermath
It's the day after as I write this and aside from being tired and hungry, most of my body has recovered nicely (no doubt the self-administered internal alcohol therapy last night helped...beer is a recovery beverage, right?). My hip hurts like hell and I am walking like some sort of B-movie monster. Running is stupid and marathon running is ridiculous.

Still, let's get this injury figured out, correct whatever caused it, and start training for LA in March. I'm in.

I'm going to get that PR sooner or later, and a trip to Boston is still the goal.

I'm convincing myself to wear my Finisher shirt with a little pride. I didn't quit. 3:57:40. Worst. Time. Ever.

I did get beat by Elvis, though...


Thanks for coming. Don't forget to tip your waitress.

What Running Is

As I sit writing this, I am woozy and sore from a 20 mile training run.

For those of you out there who are thinking about running, who used to run, or who have delusions of running as a "fun" recreational activity, let me step in and offer some thoughts:

1. Running is stupid.
   
2. Running is hard.
3. Running isn't cool.
4. Running leads to more running.
5. See #1.

Running is, indeed, stupid. It destroys your ankles, does harm to your joints, and might actually damage your heart. Yep. All that crap you read in running magazines about running being good for you is bunk. Ask any doctor. CAN running be good for you? Yep. A little bit of light running, once in a while, on soft surfaces, as part of a larger workout scheme is a great idea. 50 miles a week on pavement in $150 shoes preparing for a 26.2 mile "race" that you can't win (and that you will probably run in unsupportive "race" shoes that weigh 6 ounces)? Stupid. Plus, running 40-50 miles a week in training for a marathon means you have sliced at least 6 hours, and likely much more, out of your productive life and devoted it to running around town with no destination, and with no one chasing you. Let's not forget that the human foot was never meant to interact with surfaces like pavement. We shouldn't have to wear running shoes at all, except that most of our running haunts are paved. Poorly, I might add.

Some people call running "challenging," but let's be real for a minute. It's hard damn work. Short runs are hard because you never get the chance to warm up. Medium length runs are hard because you feel like you should really push and challenge yourself because, after all, it isn't a long run. And long runs are just plain torture. Depending on which "expert" you believe (side note: more running experts are just runners who can write decently) your body stops burning carbohydrate fuel and starts trying to burn fat and muscle for fuel after 2 hours of continuous exertion. For a nine-minute miler that's a half marathon. This is like a college party with a nice campfire. After a couple of hours, the actual firewood you have carefully brought along in anticipation of a fun night at the campground with your friends runs out, and since you've had 12 Keystone Lights and smoked something that dude over there handed to you, it seems perfectly reasonable to set the picnic table ablaze. Then the floor mats of your roommate's car. Then, what the hell, let's see if that thing over there burns!* Once that happens, every step is a deliberative action in which your brain has to wage war against your body in order to keep it moving forward. Forgetting for a minute that your muscles have decided they are done, your joints suddenly hurt again, your shoes are running you in the wrong places, and those mother----ing earbuds for your iPod keep slipping around and are driving you bat sh&% crazy, even your brain starts to rebel. And you're doing this why? Oh that's right, so it will be easier to do even more of it next week.

Go down to the local running trail in your street clothes and watch the runners go by. What assholes! Now look around at the other people who came down to watch the runners. Oh, there aren't any? That's right. Because running isn't cool. Potential running spectators only come out to races because they know something runners don't: running is stupid (see above). They aren't out there to cheer you on. They're out there to watch a few thousand uncool stupid people punish themselves for 4 hours. And they get special joy in the fact that we paid for the privilege of suffering not only for those 4 hours (3:30 if you're lucky) but for the days following when we will limp around the office wearing our "Marathon Finisher" shirts (which we paid $95 for). Nope. Running isn't cool. Bering Sea crab fishing is cool. Really good sushi chefs are cool. Runners are dorks. No way around it. Even my friend Owen, the most tattooed dude at any local race (and an accomplished ULTRA marathoner) is a geek. Running isn't cool.

But the big problem with running is that like any stupid addiction, it only leads to more running. You run a half-marathon and BAM! you're in line to register for the next one. Or worse, you decide you need to graduate to the full 26.2 miles. So then you go out and load up on expensive shoes, technical fabric shorts and shirts, special running underwear that is supposed to be odor resistant (doesn't work), and a few handfuls of GU packets. You subscribe to an online training plan. You start cooking recipes you find in Runners World.

Next thing you know, you are writing a lame-ass blog about your own running exploits, thinking stupidly that someone out there cares.

Yep. Running is stupid.

Next up, the Seattle Marathon. I'm stupid.



*Any similarity to a fraternity weekend yours truly spent at Ocean Shores is completely coincidental. And also it really happened.

The Weighting Game

The kids got Wii Fit from Grandma not that long ago. And by "the kids" I mean me, because I'm the one who uses it most. The damn thing is just so cute the way it talks to me about my morbid obesity! Besides that, the kids are all in shape and healthy.

I tend to think the Wii technology is crazy witchcraft voodoo anyway, so I will admit that the experience is often a little bit creepy for me. The little animated Wii Fit board waves at me and talks to me about my fitness goals, for example. And it asks me when I ate dinner. Which is fine and awfully polite and all, but I can't answer back because I don't speak Wii.

Anyway, in addition to doing some virtual ski jumping, snowboarding, and soccer drills, I've taken to using the Wii Fit thing to track my weight as the training for Seattle ramps up. In theory I could also use it to work on some yoga poses, but those virtual yoga teachers are creepy. Seriously.

With the Wii Fit tracking my BMI and weight, I feel this weird accountability. It's like the thing actually cares or makes judgment about my weight. And damn it, I want to make that machine happy! It sets little goals for me, and I love to see the line track toward those goals.

But I know I am disappointing the Wii because I can't seem to really lose weight. It's starting to piss me off.

I'm training 35-40 miles a week, I have a pretty decent diet (except for the beer, of course) and it's not like I'm just sitting around all the time when I'm not running. What the hell?!

My weight as I sit here being taunted by the Wii Fit Balance Board is 180. I'm 5'11", so this is right on the edge of "Overweight" by the Wii's standards (and the BMI chart at Dr. Hilarious's office, too). Overweight? Damn. What does that make all the people I see on the streets? If I'm officially overweight, what category do they use to describe the people that even overweight people think are obese?

My weight goal for the Seattle Marathon is 170-175. I have plenty of time still, but things are going to have to start moving in the right direction here pretty soon.

I really want to see what the Wii says when I reach a goal. It better throw a little virtual party for me with all my Mii friends in attendance...