Smiling

The last marathon I ran was a different experience than the ones before it. I hadn't run much leading up to the race, so I had no idea what kind of performance to expect. It turned out well, and I'm fairly confident that my attitude had a lot to do with it. I decided before the race that I was going to enjoy myself and that whenever anyone was cheering, I'd smile.

That's right: I smiled every time anyone was along the course clapping or cheering. From the start all the way through the finish. Some of my favorite reactions included:

• Around mile 12, some woman yelled out, "You're smiling!" I replied with, "I'm having fun!"
• About a half mile later, the Cavs dance team was working a water stop. Three of them saw me smiling and started running alongside me, giving me water and shouting encouragement.
• Throughout the race, when I'd look at people and smile, they'd consistently cheer louder and longer.

I'm convinced that by smiling, I was able to keep a better positive mental attitude. That let me focus on enjoying the run more and the pain in my legs less. Not once during the race did I have negative thoughts creep into my mind. It was really nice and I hope to replicate it in future races.

Geting a coach

In October, I'll be running my third consecutive Chicago Marathon. Which means that I've been back to running for about two years now. Those two years are the first time I've been running "seriously" without being under the direction of a coach. My training has been, let's put it kindly, suboptimal.

After the Cleveland Marathon, where I nearly PR'd after 6 weeks of semi-active recovery, I decided to stop fiddling around and get really serious about this again. It was time to get a coach.

This was the first time I ever got to choose my coach. I had a couple of requirements in my head:

• Must be an accomplished runner. I was looking for someone who'd competed collegiately and had continued afterward. (Pretty much everyone I found fit this requirement.)
• Must have several years of coaching experience. I didn't want to be anyone's guinea pig.
• Must have somewhat frequent communication, and be willing to adjust training based on it.

I talked to several coaches on the phone and was really happy to start working with Nina. She's a 6-time NCAA All-American (in sprints) and 10-time Boston Qualifier. She's been coaching for 11 years. We email daily and meet for workouts every other week. In addition, we have pretty similar views on training and she reminds me a lot of my college coach.

I'm two weeks into the experience and it's been going great. We're kind of feeling out where my fitness level is and adjusting workouts appropriately. It's really nice to have someone to be accountable to and to be out there doing workouts more meaningful than "I should run today".

2010 Cleveland Marathon Race Report

Race: Cleveland Marathon
Date: May 16th, 2010
Distance: 26.2 miles
Optimistic Goal: 3:45
Realistic Goal: Finish
Results: 3:30:45, 42/195 M25-29, 273/1443 M, 317/2335 overall

Splits

Distance	Time	Split Pace	Overall Pace	Projected
6.2 mi	52:28	8:27/mi	8:27/mi	3:41:42
13.1 mi	1:44:58	7:36/mi	8:00/mi	3:29:56
18.6 mi	2:26:21	7:36/mi	7:53/mi	3:26:51
26.2 mi	3:30:45	8:24/mi	8:02/mi	8:30:45

Prerace
I went to college in Cleveland, so I knew the area. The night before the race, after hitting the race expo, my mom and I checked out my college campus a bit, went to the Cleveland Botanical Gardens (amazing!), and had dinner at my favorite restaurant in Little Italy. I even got to meet up with my college cross-country and track coach for desert. All in all, a very fun day. This was going to be the first time my mom saw me run since college, and the first marathon she'd seen.

The morning of the race, I woke up at 5:45 am to get breakfast before walking the quarter mile to the race start. I got there plenty early and had time to get to the abundant number of port-o-pots. I'm sure there weren't enough for all the people who wait until the last minute, but 40 minutes before the race there was only about a 5 minute wait.

Miles 1-5: Feeling it out
I had no idea what to expect going into the race. My last race (a 50 miler) I had to drop out at mile 35 due to a knee injury, and in the six weeks since I had barely run at all. The primary reason was to rest the knee and allow it to heal, but the subconscious reason was to avoid finding out that it was a Big Problem that I wouldn't be able to fix. I told people I hoped to run around 4:00 but in my head I hoped to run a 3:45, knowing that was optimistic. So I started off very cautiously. My first few miles were around the 9:00/mile pace that I had told people I'd be running. It felt great and I was having a lot of fun.

I had decided to run without a watch to encourage myself to relax and just enjoy the race. In this section, I was wearing a smile basically the whole time, but definitely every time people were cheering along the road. I decided that I'd continue this during the whole race, which could've been my best decision of the day. I'll talk more about that later.

I saw my mom just after the 2 mile mark and then a few miles later. The next place I'd see her was around the 12 mile mark.

Miles 5-12: Picking it up
At this point, I knew that I felt good and my energy levels were high. I decided to pick up the pace and test the legs a bit. They responded well, and I started moving up through the field. I continued smiling when people cheered and focused on being relaxed and enjoying the experience. We weaved through a few neighborhoods with some crowds and eventually ended up by the lake. The biggest hills were in this section. People were obviously struggling, and I would've back when I lived in Cleveland, but I have a different sense of what a hill is now that I live on a mountain.

Along the waterfront, we were running on a two or three lane highway that had some turns to it. Everyone was running as if there was traffic on the road (there wasn't) and staying along the left white line. I ran the tangents and avoided the extra distance. I was one of the few people I saw during the whole race that did this. You're running far enough as it is, people -- don't run more than you have to!

As I approached the city, I started looking for my mom. I'd told her I might stop to talk, depending on how I was feeling. But I was feeling too good to stop! I slowed down and said something to the effect of: "I feel great! I'm on about 3:35 pace. See you at the finish." She gave some encouragement and I was off. It was great looking forward to each spot I knew she'd be, but I had a long 14 miles ahead of me that I was on my own.

Miles 12-17: Maintaining the pace
Running through the city was fun. People were out cheering, and it was a nice little moral boost. The half marathoners peeled off and it got far less crowded (not that it was ever that crowded past the first few miles). The 3:30 pace team soon came into view and I realized that I was actually ahead of where I thought I was. I passed them right at the halfway mark and kept moving. I considered holding back and staying with them the rest of the way, but I wanted to see what I had in me.

This whole stretch was running along a road and bike path that paralleled the water. I ended up talking to a woman for ~10 minutes. She was fun to talk to -- a competitive half marathoner who does an occasional marathon and just trying to qualify for Boston. Her standard was 3:40, we were ahead of the 3:30 team, and she looked as fresh as I felt at mile 5. Eventually I told her that I was really enjoying the conversation but I needed to save my breath for my muscles. She understood and left me behind.

It was windy through this section, especially once we got on the bike path. I ran through here a lot in college, so knew to expect it. I was still accelerating, though, and probably was at my fastest pace of the whole race in this section.

Miles 17-26.2: Finishing what I started
Coming off of the water front, I was thinking that a PR was possible. This was going far better than I ever expected. I was a couple of minutes ahead of the 3:30 pace team and my PR is 3:26:00. I felt better than I ever had 17 miles into a marathon. I tried to push these thoughts out of my head and focus on relaxing and enjoying. I soon started to notice the fatigue for the first time. Now I just needed to get through this last section and see what happened.

A nice little boost came at the 20 mile marker, where I saw my college cross-country coach standing. She was running with the football coach for the last 6 miles and I was far enough ahead of pace that I got to see her. To be honest, beating the football coach was part of my motivation. She was surprised and I was proud of myself. 6 miles to go.

A few miles later, I was passed by someone that looked really familiar. He got about a stride ahead of me and I blurted out, "Is your name Wayne?" He looked at me and said, "Branton!" It was cool to run into a college teammate during the race. He said he'd run the rest of the way with me, but I told him to go on without me. He clearly looked better. He told me he saw Joe earlier, too.

This last section definitely had some 100 meter walking sections. I've learned that it's best to suck up your pride, walk for a short stretch, and get some oxygen into your lungs. I do pressure breathing -- a technique I learned climbing Mt. Rainier -- to force all the air out of my lungs and to let myself get more oxygen. Once I hit mile 25, I knew I was running the rest of the way.

As I approached the last turn, all the spectators were cheering and saying, "One more turn!" The homestretch was long, but lined with cheering people. I kept smiling and picking up the pace. I saw my mom about 50 meters out from the line. I waved and charged in. For the first time ever, since I wasn't wearing a watch, I got a decent finish line photo with my arms raised.

The race was by far my best marathon ever. I missed my PR by less than 5 minutes, felt better through the whole race than any other, but above all had more fun than ever before. Between having my mom there to cheer me on, focusing on keeping a smile, and running familiar routes, it was all I could've hoped for. Amazing.

Postrace
As I walked through the shoot, it occurred to me what just happened. What a fantastic experience. I took a few minutes and soaked it in. My mom caught up with me and I talked with her over the railing while I let my legs rest. When I left the shoot, I ran into Joe -- another college teammate -- and caught up with him for a few minutes. Then I got a hamstring massage (they were sore!) and had the podiatry tent drain one of the gnarliest blisters I've ever had.

Race Pros & Cons
The Cleveland Marathon has seen tremendous growth in the past several years, thanks to their sponsorship by Rite Aid. They're a decent sized race, going through some growing pains. I'm sure the next few years they'll continue to grow and change some things to be a much more polished product.

My main complaint about the race was the lack of consistency in aid stations. I've been spoiled by Chicago, where the layout of every aid station is the same: Gatorade first, then water (both on both sides of the street). If there are bananas or gels, then they're out front so that you can wash them down. In Cleveland, it was all pretty random. Sometimes the Poweraid was on the left side while water was on the right, sometimes it was Poweraid first then water or vice versa.

My favorite part of the race was probably the location. That might seem weird, since it's in Cleveland, but I lived there for four years and it was a lot of fun to be back. Especially running along MLK boulevard, where I ran at least once a week for four years. I've done many tempo runs along there, going much faster than I was 20 miles into the race...

And the winner of the best sign was the woman holding: Go Cavs Runners! (The Cavs were eliminated from the playoffs the night before.)

Check out "The Miles Ahead"

In college, I met a girl named Carmen. She was three years ahead of me and the captain of the women's cross-country team. The women's team was very close, largely due to her leadership.

When she got married and was having a moving sale, I bought her plates and silverware. I still use the silverware. This has nothing to do with anything, but is more of a "fun fact".

A little over a year ago, Carmen was diagnosed with cancer. Her life obviously changed drastically. She's been generous enough to share her experiences through her writing. If you're looking for some inspiration, become a fan of The Miles Ahead on Facebook. All of her writing is under the "Notes" tab.

I now realize that juxtaposing a "fun fact" with cancer probably isn't very cool. This is why you should read Carmen's writing -- she's much better at it than I am.

Tweaking my form to reduce ITB pain

I'm one of those annoying runners who read Born to Run and rave about it. As a result, I changed my stride completely, reduced the amount of material between my feet and the earth significantly, and tell all of my running friends about it. Yes, I'm annoying.

One of the things that barefooters claim is that it's the way to run "injury free". Of course, that's completely ridiculous. You can do anything poorly and get injured. I'm nursing an injured knee at the moment. It's mostly IT band pain.

The great thing about ITB pain is that you can adjust your form and get almost immediate feedback on whether or not that helps. This weekend I fiddled with my stride a bit by reducing my stride length even more. My feet now land underneath my body instead of slightly ahead of it. My hips are tilted slightly forward and I'm essentially falling forward.

This change seems to be good, as I was able to get in some good miles without pain. The surprising part is that shortening my stride forces me to go faster, especially downhill. I've reduced the "breaking" effect of placing my foot ahead of me even more and just scoot along. It's actually a lot of fun.

Garmin 405 and elevation data

A few months ago, I got the Garmin 405 GPS watch. It's fantastic and I love it. But last weekend, I ran the same trail loop twice and got wildly different elevation numbers.

On Saturday's run, it showed me as going to 200 ft below sea level. Suffice it to say, I wasn't running in SCUBA gear. Sunday's run seemed more reasonable. But something still wasn't right. With a low point of 200 ft and a high point of 1,500 ft with only one ascent, there's not 2,500 ft of elevation gain and loss.

I did some searching and it turns out that elevation estimates based on GPS just aren't very accurate. I'll have to rely on the data only for the elevation graph, which will provide the general outline of the route. I'm going to start throwing the total elevation change out the window.

I wonder if Garmin could get more accurate results after runs have been uploaded to Garmin Connect by combining the GPS coordinates taken every 4 seconds and a topographical map. That's probably really hard, but they could hopefully at least get rid of points that are 400 ft off and show me 200 ft below sea level.

It turns out that GpsVisualizer.com does just that. You can export your data from Garmin Connect and upload it. It will give you what appears to be a more accurate graph of your elevation profile.

A weekend of trails

Well, technically there was just one trail. But I ran it on Saturday and Sunday both. It's a 10 km loop with about 1,400 ft* of elevation gain and loss.

On Saturday, I ran it clockwise. There are essentially five sections to the route:

Home to trail: downhill on roads

Uphill trail: single track trail with switchbacks, climbs significantly

Flat-ish trail: single track trail that has some small ups and downs

Downhill trail: wide, straight trail with parts covered in crushed stone, falls significantly

Trail to home: downhill on roads

On Sunday, the trail was a different beast thanks to two factors. I ran in the other direction and it had rained. So instead of going slowly uphill on the dry, technical, single track trail, I was flying downhill and it was muddy. This caused one incident where I didn't approach a wooden bridge with enough caution and wiped out as my foot hit it but didn't stop. Fortunately I didn't skid off the side and fall the dozen feet below. I think I prefer Saturday's direction over Sunday's.

Regardless, I've got this fantastic trail right behind my house. There are also other loops and an easy connection to the next mountain over. I've only run on these trails 4 times after living here for over a year. This needs to be fixed. I hope to start getting out there at least weekly in the future. I'd also love to get my Flip camera out there to do some videos that will get posted here.

* My Garmin 405 claimed 2,500 ft and 3,500 ft of elevation gain/loss on the two identical loops. Eyeballing the topo map says that the low point is 200 ft and the high point is 1,500 ft or so. Adding some ups & downs in between, I'm ballparking that it's 1,400 ft of gain/loss.

Admitting I was wrong

Back in October, I admitted that I stopped stretching. As I've mentioned here, I'm currently battling a knee injury, though. I'd never had any knee issues in my ~15 years of running. So I had to step back and reevaluate. What happened?

I've changed a few things in the past year of running. The first was switching from a heal striking stride to a forefoot stride and incorporating some barefoot running into my routine. The second was dropping all stretching from my routine. Which was more likely to have caused this?

Barefoot proponents claim that they run "injury free". I don't completely believe that but I do believe you're less likely to be injured with a forefoot stride than when you're a heal striker. So I went back and read my post about not stretching. In particular, it said that people at either end of the flexibility spectrum were most likely to get injured. Do I qualify?

I'm without a doubt the tightest I've ever been. I imagine I truly am at the low end of the flexibility spectrum. Between not stretching and significantly reducing my stride length, my quads and hamstrings aren't ever encouraged to be long. My new PT (who I'm very impressed with) agrees and my number one priority in overcoming this injury is to get back to normal flexibility.

In retrospect, I wasn't really wrong. I still don't think it's important to be so flexible that I can fold myself in half. But I took a principle to an extreme and paid the price. I'm back to stretching again.

2010 MS50 Race Report

Race: Carl Touchstone Memorial Mississippi 50 Trail Run
Date: 3/6/2010
Distance: 50 miles
Optimistic Goal: 8:00:00
Realistic Goal: Finish, around 9:00:00
Results: DNF after 35.2 miles

Splits

Distance	Time	Split Pace	Overall Pace	Projected
12.5 mi	1:56:00	9:16/mi	9:16/mi	7:44:00
25.0 mi	3:53:18	9:16/mi	9:23/mi	7:46:36
32.2 mi	5:00:32	9:20/mi	9:20/mi	7:46:40
DNF after 35.2 miles

Prerace

The night before the race there was a spaghetti dinner and pre-race meeting. I won a door prize (a women's jacket that was too big for me), ate a bunch of food, and listened to the race director warn us how wet the course was. I should've taken him more seriously.

Back at the hotel, I got my drop bag packed and was full of nervous energy. So I did what any runner does when they're nervous -- I went out for a run. Just an easy mile but I gave myself a good pep talk.

Unfortunately, the run didn't do much to get rid of the nervous energy. I was only able to get two hours of sleep and was awake by 11:00 pm. That was the last I'd sleep. I tried but it was no use. Fortunately, I don't think it hurt me at all.

With the race set to start at 6:00 am, it made for an early morning. The alarm went off at 4:15 and we were on the road by 4:50. On the way to the start area, it because clear that there wouldn't be any cell phone reception. We got there about 40 minutes early and it was quite dark. In the last ten minutes before the gun, it got light in a hurry.

Loop #1: Miles 0.0 - 12.5

My friend Kyle and I started the race off together. It was really nice running with him, the first time we've done it in over ten years. We stuck together for about half an hour before I took off on my own. We both knew that we'd be running different paces going into it, so it was no big deal.

About a mile into the race, as promised by the race director the night before, we got our feet wet. This was just the first of many times around the 12.5 mile loop that you'd have no choice but to go anywhere from ankle- to mid-shin deep in water. It made for wet feet, but was kind of fun to be honest.

Going into the race, I had a goal of keeping my heart rate below 145 for as long as possible. For the first mile or so, it was falsely showing me in the upper 180's. When it did start working, it showed me in the 148-155 range. I decided that trail running probably made up for the extra beats and accepted it. I tried keeping it in the lower 150's and that was good enough.

8.7 miles into the loop was a 1.5 mile out-and-back section. Curious how I was doing, I started counting the 50 mile runners that went by. I placed myself around 8th and passed a few later in the loop.

As I approached the start/finish area, I was feeling fantastic. I took off my hat and gloves, tossed them to my friend who was video taping, and charged on through:

Unfortunately, what I was supposed to do was stop by my drop bag and grab a few more GU packets. I probably should've changed socks too. More on that later.

Time at 12.5 miles: 1:56:00, 6th place

Loop #2: Miles 12.5 - 25.0

About two miles into the second loop, I was catching an occasional glimpse through the trees of a few runners ahead of me. I heard something behind me, turned my head, and saw five runners in a tight pack charging towards me. The 20 km race had started 4 minutes after I crossed the start/finish line and the lead pack had caught me. These guys were hauling it! I comforted myself by telling myself they were only running one loop and that they hadn't hit any of the wet parts of the course yet. Of course, they were going to just charge through those instead of trying to avoid them by stopping and looking for places to jump across.

I stopped for the first time at the first aid station of the loop, at 19.4 miles. I was out of Gatorade and GU, so I stopped for a refill and some (stale) gummy worms. From here on out, I took at least a short stop at each aid station.

I passed a guy in an orange shirt. "Did you see me take a wrong turn on the first loop?" he asked angrily. I told him I hadn't, but I wasn't sure if he was accusing me of not yelling to him or what. He said he ran an extra mile and was obviously very upset about it. He'd probably run 10 miles since then and was very focused on the negative. That's the sort of thing you just have to let go. It's a long day ahead of you and you're not going to enjoy it if you're focusing on something negative.

As I was successfully crossing a stream without getting wet, I called out to the approaching runner behind me to come towards me. He appreciated the tip and we talked for a while before he continued on ahead of me in his 20 km race. "You might see me again, you look really strong," he said as he moved forward. I did see him again, as he took a wrong turn on the course and I yelled out to him to turn around. After that, we stuck together for about five miles talking all the way. He was a really nice guy and I'm glad we had the opportunity to run together. He left me again for the last few miles, but I had to yell to him he was off course again, so he finished just barely ahead of me and wished me luck on the rest of my race at the start/finish line.

This time as I came through the start/finish line, I stopped to grab more GU. I didn't replace my socks again and I probably should've. More on that later.

Time at 25.0 miles: 3:53:18, 5th place

Loop #3: Miles 25.0 - 35.2 (DNF)

At this point, I was feeling great. I ran a pretty even split in the second loop, considering that I didn't stop at any aid stations the first time around. My legs felt good, though showed a few signs of fatigue. My knee didn't hurt. The eventual women's 50 km winner was very encouraging as I passed her. My confidence in finishing 50 miles was growing.

My confidence was growing enough, in fact, that I started getting competitive. I had lost track of what place I was in so I asked at the first aid station. They were clearly not paying attention -- one guy told me he thought I was in first place. Another other said 2nd or 3rd, which also seemed optimistic. In the next section, I passed a few nice older runners on their 2nd lap of the 50 km. Unprompted, they told me I looked great and was in 4th place, but that 3rd place was "about a mile" ahead of me. As I approached the second aid station, 3rd place was leaving. I was gaining ground.

But then, disaster struck. The knee injury that's been around for the last four weeks struck. And it didn't come on gradually, it was debilitating. I knew it as soon as I took the first step away from the aid station at mile 32.2. I tried to do what I could -- stretch and massage -- but nothing worked. I was able to walk without too much discomfort, but I couldn't take more than about ten running strides before resorting to walking.

Over the next three miles, I walked and threw in an occasional attempt to run. It was clear: I wasn't finishing. Sure, I could if I were willing to walk the next 12 miles. But I'm a runner, not a walker. Just like there's no crying in baseball, there's no walking in running for me. When I got to the aid station at mile 35.2, I got a ride back to the start/finish area.

Time at 32.2 miles: 5:00:32, 4th place

Postrace

Kyle, his family, and my housemate were all sitting near the start/finish area as I rolled in in the back seat of a jeep. At that point, I was about 20 minutes behind schedule to come into the 37.5 mile checkpoint so they knew something was wrong. Kyle had decided to switch to the 50 km race and was happy with his decision. I reported to the score table, got credit for 50 km (even though in the online results they claim 20 km), and turned in my race number. I'm not happy I had to turn that in, as it's something that I collect.

My theory on changing socks was that I'd only have dry socks for about a mile after changing them, so it wasn't really worth it. Judging from the size of my blood blisters, though, perhaps I should've at least tried. They're definitely the biggest ones I've ever had. I suppose I won't know until I run under similar conditions, but next time I'll at least try.

Takeaways

It's hard to be upset with myself over my performance. By all measures, things were going great until my injury reared its ugly head. I felt great, I was in striking distance of the "podium", and aid station volunteers were shocked that it was my first 50 miler based on how strong I looked. I have nothing but complete confidence that I would've finished if I had a healthy knee. I can't guess how fast those last 17.8 miles would've gone but I hadn't yet to see any significant slowdown.

As this was my first trail race that I had set goals, I learned that you have to adjust for trail conditions. Every time I stopped to find the best crossing over a stream, that was time that I was never getting back. Running with wet feet slows you down. Aside from the water, this was a tame trail but I realize that on more technical courses you'll have to adjust for sections with difficult footing.

As it heated up on the 3rd loop, it became clear that I was somewhat dehydrated. I needed to drink more in the first two loops when it was cool. I'd rather have to stop to use the bathroom than get dehydrated.

As much as I love my Garmin 405, the 8 hour battery life is limiting for ultras. Kyle had a Garmin 305 with enough battery life, but it wasn't able to find satellites in the few minutes before the race.

I'll be back to get my revenge on 50 miles.

Tomorrow's attempt at 50 miles

The time has come. No more excuses, no more putting it off. It's time to run 50 miles at the MS50! At 6am eastern time tomorrow, I'll be slowly crossing the starting line.

One key for me is going to be starting off slowly. I've found in my long training runs that I can get into a very comfortable, relaxed 9:00/mile pace. That projects to a 7:30:00 finish time, which I think is a bit unrealistic for my first 50 miler. Factor in some time for filling water bottles and eating and some cushion time for not knowing what lies beyond 30 miles and I'm hoping to come in around 9:00:00. I think I'm probably capable of going faster than that, but I don't want to go out trying to win and then have to crawl into the finish.

This race allows you to change distances mid-race. They tout it as a feature but I see it as dangerous. The race has a big loop (12.5 miles) and a small loop (6 miles), that you can see on the course map (PDF). The races are organized like this:

50 mile: 3 big loops, 2 small loops
50 km: 2 big loops, 1 small loop

After 2 big loops, people from either race can move to the other and still be included in the official results. I'm going to have to instruct my "crew" to be very stern with me if I come in thinking I'm going to bump down to 50km.

My housemate was going to be in the area for business, so he graciously extended his trip to come watch me run. It happens to be just outside of where he grew up in Mississippi so he gets to see his hometown and I get someone to drive the car after the race. Hopefully that's not to the hospital.

Tune in on Monday for the race report.