The Ups and Downs of the Bucksport 5k

The Bucksport 5k has a net elevation gain of 0 feet. Glancing at that statement you might believe the course is flat. Nothing could be further from the truth. Early morning rain greeted the almost 200 runners stirring in beds, in living rooms or cups of coffee. Breaking by quarter past six, humidity settled in after the hint of rain disappeared into a muggy fog. High spirits and welcoming faces greeted the runners at this small scenic town’s race. John Peckenham was on hand, delivering numbers and registration with a few stalwart sub 5 volunteers, including Peter Lodge who went on to run an 18:40!

At 7:55 the five minute to race call was made. Excited people from walking enthusiasts, beginning runners, pr chasers and wily veterans like Chris Almy all milled over the next two minutes into a sort of pecking order of expectations at the start line. Mr. Peckenham was on hand for some last minute directions and a quick thanks to the volunteers notably local timer Ryan King. With a drop of a hand and a loud "GO" off the runners went.

The course is an out and back. The first few hundred meters involve a couple of ninety degree turns. The next kilometer is a climb towards the one mile mark with a couple more sharp turns. After the mile mark there is a small, but noticeable, gradual downhill. This flattens out leading to a mark in the road and a waterstop. Here runners circle, arms swimming through gravity, a full 180 degrees on the spot! And back they go.

That gradual downhill greets you as a very noticeable gradual uphill. However, once the two mile mark is hit, it is pretty much all downhill except for one more slight gradual uphill. This downhill begrudgingly helps you, with a couple of hard turns that take wind out of your sail. The last four hundred meters involves navigating the same flat terrain marked with two ninety degree turns. At the finish line volunteers like Margaret Capehart greet you with cheers and Mr. King is busy timing and announcing runners.

Afterwards, h2o and bananas consumed, awards ceremonies commence. Jennifer Dagan wins the women’s race in an 18:12 and Caleb Lander wins the Men’s race in 16:26. In the charm running (yup I punned that) with this rustic New England 5k they win small metal figurines, about the size of match cars, of early 20th century items; almost giant Monopoly pieces. While they might not be gift certificates to Epic Sports they are redeemable reminders of the rise and run of something slightly higher in the value of its’ nature; an accomplishment.

Stretch Stress

Lying on my back, rope held in each hand and looped around foot acting to effectively double the length of my arms. Focusing on a loose back, with good posture, while fully stretching, and isolating, leg muscles I’m reminded to be careful. Today, the day before a race, is not the day to over stretch. Stretching works the muscles, and if you put yourself into new areas of discomfort you will feel it the next day. Ten minutes of stretching, within the established ranges of motion, is the best bet the night before a race or hard workout.

Trailer

Starting in the city of Bangor a trail drapes itself alongside the Kenduskeag River. Nature and city entwine an invitation of escape amidst the quaint city. The water surely sailing over rocks and around largely submerged trees acting like immovable icebergs doubling as the perfect perch to resting birds sets a backdrop of white noise. Rising with a hill, a roller-coaster return to elevation, and then another sharp uphill to cross a solid foot bridge that vibrates with a cadence matching the rhythm hit by strong feet calmly crossing. Continuing on the opposite side for a while, it strikes out along the road, over it, and then tucks away from the asphalt for further escape. Jen and I are turning around, back the way we came, but part of me is still headed down the trail.

I think I need a new town, to leave this all behind...

“I think I need a sunrise, I'm tired of the sunset, I hear it's nice in the Summer.”

Ready? Maybe.

Excited? Yes.

A new job in a new town starts Monday and the nerves of anticipation are wondering what it will be like.

Boston, the place of my birth, I return to you almost thirty years later...

Caffeine

Getting done our exercises we head over to grab a coffee at the local gas station. The nice thing about coffee is the caffeine, duh! The nice thing about caffeine is that it aids, in correct moderation, with recovery. The caffeine keeps the body running hot, the circulatory plumbing shooting nutrients here and removing waste there. It isn’t about the energy that you have in the moment, making you think you are recovered when you are fatigued. A cup of black coffee doesn’t replace eating the proper components of sugar to protein and then taking the rest of the day easy after working out. It’s about that pump of energy, acting like a low does recovery run with NO impact, lending a helping hand while you are just going about your day.

Brain & Body & Brendan

Ten minute tempo two minutes rest ten minute tempo two minutes rest. Starting the third bout my stomach was gurgling stronger than it had running the second one. Not to say I wasn’t tired, but I really felt good in the legs and lungs. The stomach had something else going on.

During the first lap it began with reminders to breathe deep, to find rhythm. The second lap, posture was snapped at, as if by standing straighter my stomach would be less full. The third lap, an argument between brain and stomach broke out. By the time the fourth lap was finishing up stomach was in a choke hold, with brain saying ten minutes or bust. And bust it was.

One hundred meters after the mile split I land on all fours, cabbage, bread, bile and hot dog flow faithfully out nose and mouth; a park spectacle to the hundred or so children and adults participating in a youth track practice. More and more it came, with ten second breaks that hint at a finish only to snicker away with a new round of gut hurling. Jen passes by, in the throws of her third ten minute bout, words of encouragement out of her mouth exchanges with my thumbs up as an acidic mucus mixture drains from nose, moustache and mouth held parallel to the ground.

Finally done, not some mirage of settled stomach, I stand up. I really wanted to do at least three by ten minutes. Glancing at my watch, it has only been one minute forty seconds since I stopped to puke; the eternity of experience a reality of just over sixty seconds. Hopping onto the line I head out; stomach and brain in agreement again.

Finishing the twelve hundred meter bout, and getting thirty minutes total tempo running, I stop, sit down to untie and remove a shoe. Jen is starting her fourth bout, and it impresses me. One shoe is already off and damn it all, I am going to do more. Getting my shoe on and running seconds later, I have taken three minute rest. A little longer than I hoped, but heading out feeling good is not undesirable.

The first lap is smooth but tiring. As the second lap begins, the stomach asks how long is this going to be. The brain stonewalls the stomach, as always annoyed to be reminded it serves the body as much as the body serves it, through the next six hundred meters. Starting the fourth lap, the stomach reminds the brain what happens if it pushes its luck. Agreeing to not repeat the last events, I finish the fourth lap, strong in the legs but stomach almost ready for another show. The track practice participants, with parents abound, watched me from corners of eyes and with occasional whisper or reminder to child not to laugh. Some of them are like me, an athlete, and some are too young to understand the accord between brain and body.

I called it while I was ahead, this time. Not the first time I have puked at the track, probably won’t be the last, but it was the most in volume and the only time I went onto to do ten more minutes of hard running. I am not saying that is for all athletes, but all runners know what it is like, in the middle of a race or hard run, when your mind says more and your body say no. You learn to listen to your body, or your body makes you listen. And then comes that moment, of cosmic hilarity, often involving bodily fluids and/ or fecal matter, where, against some might say any reasonable sense, we continue doing that which just moments ago afflicted us!

The dog days are done...

Heat wave broke like a racist joke, finally done with dumb humidity’s oppressive hold making you uncomfortable no matter where it unfolds. Shorts on at 10pm, torso free except for a light reflector and immediately out the door there is quickness to movement. An early trot, down stairs, over slate sunken into grass quilted trail leading to another set of stairs and now driveway; stepping onto pavement, from trot comes canter and a reminder not to gallop.

our big ben costs just ten

Jen forgot her watch at home. Not a big deal, we meet at the same spot each time we do this run. She heading from work to home and me heading from home to whole. Still, we often laugh about not having a particular watch because we always have at least three laying around. On coffee table, counter and sometimes there is pile of fresh dirty clothing still steamy from the run with watch on top of old smoky all covered in mud. Not a Rolex, a heart monitor or even a nice sport watch; a “mere” ten dollars at wally world or Walgreens. But its value is in its’ price. We aren’t timing 50meter dashes; we are timing 1000meter repeats. The watch is plenty accurate for training purposes and it has a small price tag. The watch works, so does Jen on her way but no watch today.

hot drills

Jen worked from 7am-3pm so today the workout waited for the afternoon. A light twenty minutes, by myself, at noon and then Jen and I braved the sun with its penetrating stare and the air with its wet touch at 3:40. We headed to the park by our house and then using what shade was available we skipped, hopped, kicked and an assortment of other repetitive, almost mechanical like, actions for about thirty seconds a piece. Doing “drills”, progressive dynamic stretches that lead into plyometrics, was a fun but sweaty affair.

If you cant beat the heat you might as well join it

Working out early, well before noon, left the hottest part of the day with its’ dense and slimy humidity festering through the streets of Bangor, free of heightened physical exertion. The air had a tactual quality, beads of water appearing out of thick air mixing with sweat and dragging on extremities, vaguely akin to walking against the current in a river. The day seemed much less oppressive with a beer and an in ground pool a few feet away. A reminder that shade, cool bubbly beverages and water to dip your body in make days like today much more fun.

a long time ago and in a galaxy far far away....

Headed to the track for the first workout of the “new year” with full bellies, from a large meal a couple of hours ago, which threaten to undermine a moderately hard 20-30minute tempo run. There is a brief temptation to call the workout due to our indulgent meal and to head to the track tomorrow. The first quarter of this year is devoted to laying a foundation, a base for speed and a base for endurance, and so sometimes doesn’t feel crucial. Next June seems far away but with our move to Boston in the next few weeks it will provide many spring/summer meets with competition, something we sorely missed this year. Regardless of how distant the month of June may seem it is clear to us, and all athletes who devote a year to training, that today wont seem so far away from June when we stand on that track 11 months from now in Boston.

minding the finish line

The trees rush by me and a voice echoes from their midst... FASTER.

My limbs are no longer in my control.

I can’t stop.
I will not stop.
In my mind,
there is no finish line...


(a poem by Jen Dagan)

from the shadows

Six minutes at the check mark, dim light enough to expose hidden numbers on watch from the dark. The telephone pole with light mounted upon it is at the corner of Essex and Stillwater and marks the five minute fifteen second spot of a run, always. O.k. sometimes the watch gets there at ten or twelve past and even once at four minute fifty-seven, but never more than that has it deviated. Today the watch passes by forty-five seconds later. Newborn legs from a four day running break are definitely not feeble, but somehow part shadow. With the recognition of the lapse in time comes a pair of headlights, car safely away but headlights shining light rearing itself after me, bringing a momentary dark plunger of fear as if legs will dissipate in the light, true shadows after all. The adrenaline, of course, brings the opposite effect and reminds my legs of a stride that is theirs!

Me Myself I Mine Ours We

Penetrating skin, the sun's rays a quick reminder of shade lost. Tethered dogs gaze longingly for freedom from car and tree, lucky pups with water bowl, shade and lush, serene, dark olive grass sighing for more company. Track emanating heat compounded with the down pour of sun rays to form an all area dry sauna contrasting the canine oasis only a few hundred meters away. Coffee and nerves course around a roller coaster of sweat and egg mcmuffins and for a second happiness flitters by, a moth swiftly swept up by the owl of reason. No injury would mean no coffee or egg mcmuffins on a race day. Jen coolly defies the heat with a nonchalant warm up; poker face on the outside but her own amusement park on the inside. The contradiction easily recognized and understood. To show weakness is undermining. Striking a strong confident smile in her direction as she rounds the track, looking for support; now more than ever, with less than desirable racing conditions and no competition, forgetting everything else and supporting Jen is the thing to do.

Working smartah not hardah!

Two minutes on, one minute off, two minutes on, one minute off, two minutes on.... The bike stands still, hooked to a windtrainer and the pace being elicited can be maintained, theoretically, for 13-17minutes in an all out race pace effort. Cycling during my third day off in a row from running, I am still getting familiar with this effort and its pace. I never really cycled before and it is interesting to apply a trusty Daniels workout to this new leg exercise, a legercise if you will.

People readily throw around the term VO2max, but there are some pretty clear ways we like to describe it. First off, we are referring to it in relation to running. However, it really is a reference to oxygen consumption by a muscle or group of muscles. If you do manual labor you can find this intensity in all sorts of things. Jen and I see your ability to transport oxygen, consume it by working muscles and deal with the by products at a maximum even paced effort for 13-17 minutes as VO2max, but in reality it is the maximum effort at which an increase in effort does not give an increase in oxygen consumption by the working muscles. Secondly, in order to truly benefit as a faster runner then you must stress oxygen delivery and processing in the legs to the extreme, not some other activity because, while training you chest or arms might be good for the heart, those muscles have very little, in comparison to the legs, to do with running.

It is totally possible to move faster than VO2max. This is implicit to most people, but it should be stated for the rest. VO2Max is the intensity that you can maintain for 13-17minutes, so if you race for only five minutes then you are moving at a faster than VO2 pace. Also 95% of velocity of VO2max is pretty much the same as 100% in training effect. This 95%-100% velocity of VO2max is what we define as our Interval or I training window, for example mine is 72-76seconds/400meter pace. However, 105% Interval pace is detrimental to the concept as defined by Daniels, but as talked about in a bit there are workouts that stress you thoroughly aerobically while you move at a much faster pace, roughly 120% Interval pace. For now, in Daniels terms, once you start moving at faster than 100% you cannot aerobically work any harder. This means that you tap into anaerobic reserves for energy. This is not desirable because those could have been properly utilized a few days later in a race or other workout.

Also, when moving at I pace it takes two minutes to be fully at VO2max. By limiting the rest in between reps to less than what was run allows you to attain VO2max with less and less time as the workout goes on. Another interesting tidbit is that 5minutes is the upper limit on I reps, with me occasionally breaking that to run a 5:04 or 5:02 mile in a 5minute I 3minute easy by three to five reps workout. Interval training stresses the body en masse, and adequate rest should be given in the subsequent days. There are other rules and regulations according to total I volume in a workout as a percentage of total mileage in a week. Here we are rebels, due to how long we have been training and the many different mileage plans we have been on before. From 17-25now, to consistent 55-75miles per week and many times occasional high weeks with a couple in college right around 100. Now we do what we feel like at the track, but that comes from having such old training ages. Training age is the age you are given when you add up the seasons (four to a year duh!) that you have been running.

From our brief stint under Kevin Curtin, we were subjected to training that we swap around with on Daniels type I workouts. With Kevin we would often do a workout in sets of 3 x 200 with 30 sec rest for me and 35 for Jen in between the 200’s and 3-4 min rest in between the sets. We might do two sets and then finish with a 500 basically all out or three sets total or have middle set of 2 x 300 with a similar scheme of rest in between each 300. We were training for the 1500 and the pace that we were running the 200’s in correlated roughly to our 800 meter pace. This is working on our buffering capacity, our ability to run with an increasing acidity and muscles becoming rapidly full of Hydrogen ions, and due to the controlled nature of the rest it also thoroughly stressed us aerobically. We will sometimes use this workout in exchange for Daniels interval workouts, however far more often we actually hybrid the workouts. So now the workout might be three minutes interval one minute easy by 4 then one or two sets of 3 x 200, with three minutes rest before each set of 3 x 200.

Heaving heavy breaths whistling down flared nostrils with sweat swimming down my arms, an icicle of passionate resolve melting onto the grass carpeting the yard as I bust out my tenth two minute interval. Finally done the workout, I step off the bike and stand up on legs pulsating with strength and weakness locked into blissful rest and I liking knowing I did something good.

Haikulometer

In the beginning
A soft voice says start working
Reach for what you can

Day # 1

Wind trainer. Ha, should be called windless trainer. Essentially a mount for the rear of a bicycle, which allows that wheel to have resistance, and turns it into a freestanding, immovable, exercise bike. Why would you do this? For most to train indoors, but for this guy, to remove unnecessary thinking from the doing. I was never very suave with bike skills, and all I want to do is to start working hard. So I started today, Thursday the 14th of July, day #1 of my upcoming year of training.

This year will have an indoor season and culminate, healthy and competing hopefully, with an outdoor season. Both will be in the Boston area, allowing many post collegiate track races. The next few weeks will involve cross training until my calf is at 100%. With the last few weeks so easy, in hopes to compete on the 17th, I am sick of relaxing. I want to work. It is so damn frustrating to not be able to run the way I want, but now that it is the beginning of the year there is so much else I can work on.

Today, I sat on a bike hooked to a wind trainer in my yard. Spinning away for thirty minutes, dogs controlled breathing to regulate their body temperatures keeping company with mine to regulate blood flow. At night I aggressively stretch, akin to yoga, in a way that is its own workout. Over the next four months I will do a bunch of races, from 5k to maybe a half marathon again, for training and for fun. However, my real focus for the next 4months will be the 200-400meter.

They will have no races, which is fine. Of all the things to time trial sprints are the easiest. That is why for training and fun I will do other races; to stay in touch with that sometimes chaotic scene, full of frenzied and patient energy. The total lack of control over start time, the futile glances at slow moving lines to the port a potties and the constant chatter of people; the 30minutes pre-race! I find that if you train real well, even time trial damn good, if you don’t race ever then when you get there you aren’t quite ready for it.

…or leave it

So the season is over, maybe I should have immediately taken a break once my calf got hurt. I definitely should have been stretching the weeks leading up to the injury and I can’t believe I let socializing get away from me. But it isn’t a complete bust. It may have been a time trial but I did break the season’s goal of 158.8 with a running start 800 in 158.4. I also ran a 25.00 200meter, I had two watches timing me, at the end of practice and this is also a big practice pr. As for actual races, I ran a 16:19 certified course 5k that was over rolling hills with wind, so would have been between a 15:40-15:50 on the track or over a flat fast course. The nice thing about the 5k was that it was a workout, I was training for the 800, and that is where the true potential of my season lay.

Post collegiate track races are hard to come by in upstate Maine and I dropped the ball, got injured and had to sit out of the two real track meets I could have done. However, in practice, I ran some really great workouts and I know I had the potential this season to do really good things if I played my cards a little smarter with socializing. This season’s optimistic goal of 1:56.6 was within striking distance but it is moot. I messed up and missed my chance, this year. Tomorrow starts the next training year and with a move to Boston sometime soon, than the next indoor and outdoor seasons will have many more racing opportunities to pick from. So, it wasn't the season it could have been, but it never really had many racing opportunities. For a season, I guess I’ll take it.

a rhyme of hope

What was for today will wait for tomorrow.
Another easy day unplanned I borrow
A few 200’s felt better today
Still not ready but not like yesterday
What to expect for a season upset
Messy wet faucet in sink of unrest
Again again to the track I'll go
For the sake of the season please give me a show!

Tied up like a knot

The 200’s dragged by wretchedly. It was only four of them, four crappy feeling 200’s that did not end. They were with full recovery, full but still not enough. Humidity heavy in lungs gasping for air already there but somehow not and Monday’s so called easy run with 4 x 200 was not easy. No it was not.

run on sentence

Getting back from an easy run I did the standard that I do any day that is not a track workout day, twenty minutes, and rarely anymore, is the bottom line, as defined by not having a negative training effect return by the United States Association of Track and Field, which is the governing body on that sport within our country, level I curriculum, for my runs since I am injured with this nagging calf issue that I am dealing with by running the best bang for my buck, eating right, stretching and getting sleep at night as well as occasionally napping while mixing in two days off a week with all my training changing up after the big race on the 17th of July at Cony High school in Augusta, Maine.

a pat on the back

It’s funny how later in life you look up people you knew and there are now these whole new people. Buried deep within are the memories and times of the past, like the giant tree that is cut down, you can see in the center the sapling that it grew from. Patrick Tarpy is a very accomplished runner. However, to some people I am a very accomplished runner. The beauty of finishing a race, watching the mental and physical strain play out, brings a transcendent principal forward. It doesn’t matter if it is an 8minute miler or a 4minute miler. If both athletes are putting out the same effort that last minute or so of the race is basically the same. Some of my favorite finishes are those of people who aren’t really “good”, but to set it straight Pat is damn good.

I was a year ahead of the Yarmouth HS athlete. I still remember him wearing a cape at the western Maine conference meet’s awards. SO yeah, maybe he was also a little different, but what is wrong with that? Runners have always been an eclectic bunch. Pat’s freshman year he didn’t beat me once. He didn’t beat me during his HS sophomore XC season either. But sometime during his pre junior year summer, something switched in Pat and I was to never beat him again. He has gone on to run in the 13min for the 5k and I think somewhere in the 23’s for the 8k. This isn’t going to be some epic story of him and I racing each other, or the last time he lost to me. Rather I want you to hear about how the caliber of a person can sneak through in a moment.

I think it was my junior, his sophomore year. High school XC season was over but I had traveled to Maranacook HS to compete at the Junior Olympics meet. As is typical of the immaturity of HS racers we all took off like clothes on a wedding night. Throwing an elbow or two, I maintain my position in the front as we head into this forested path a couple of minutes into the race. Thundering down, three abreast and probably 40deep, we all make our way to a tree that had fallen down in the middle of the path. Like a steeplechaser I take the barrier. However, jostling behind me and a clip of the heal brought me down on all fours directly after the log. Raining down comes ¾ inch spikes as people have now just figured me into this obstacle.

Not able to get up, and not even a backwards glance from my competitors, I kind of felt nothing but a cynical quiet amusement and the piercing of a spike. As if I was getting a snapshot on how people really act. As the lead pack of racers passes Tarpy comes running up and goes out of his way to avoid me. As he takes a few strides past, there is this hesitation. Turning on his chance for the best race, he runs back and offers me a hand. I don’t think we said anything right then, as he helped me to my feet. Afterwards, not really knowing life as I do now, that moment of true empathy was lost on me. Drinking a few beers the other night I told the story for the first time to my wife and a friend. It came bubbling out of my vaulted memory as the beer came bubbling down my throat. Thank you Pat for being the athlete you were, it made me a better person.

coaching empathy

As a sophomore, in High School, I acted as an assistant coach to the middle school. It wasn’t a pity position; I was arguably a better wrestler than the head coach. My blog centralizes around my running, but I was a four time all state wrestler and won the MVP from the state meet my senior year. In 8th grade, I started volunteering with the peewee program but my sophomore year is the true becoming of my coaching career. I don’t remember everyone on the team, or have pictures of them or anything like that. I am however, to this day, best friends with a young man from that team named Andrew Davis.

Andy was a tough kid and in 7th grade had been wrestling for a few years but didn’t even come close to the State meet the year before, in fact he might have been JV. He wasn’t super talented, but he cultivated what he had daily. At our first meet of the year, the returning state champ, a kid named Nick Gurny, is in Andy’s weight class. It was a quad meet and Andy won his first match, lost his second, and in a common fashion of large teams, was not deemed worthy of the returning state champ and was given their JV kid to wrestle. Andy lost to the JV kid pretty bad, I think he got pinned.

Afterwards, he was shaken up. Not weepy or anything, but of all of Andy’s talents toughness was the one he cultivated the most. If you have never wrestled, you will probably never know the regular battle where, unlike a race where you might be struggling against someone, in wrestling you are struggling in a very particular way to dominate someone. Or as had happened to Andy today, he was dominated…twice.

So a little wide eyed and maybe even spooked he looked up at me, with 1 win & 2 losses, and said “Brendan, do you think I will make the state meet?’

Staring at his eyes, these words immediately came out of my mouth, “Andy, you’re going to win it”

I really meant it too. It wasn’t some bone to a sad kid; it was the honesty of the moment. Years later I was to tell Marco Bertolloti something very similar the week before this 16 year old went onto win the Hispanic Games in 4:15.1. Even though most of Long Island, including the Head Coach I was working with, didn’t think he had the “footspeed” to break 4:20. It is in those moments of reassurance, not when the athlete wins or loses, that I have lived the most with them.

So, Andy goes through the next few meets, and loses to Gurney each time they face, but each time it gets a bit better. At the regional meet, Andy is in the finals against Gurney who beats him just barely 8-7. When we got to the state meet there was this electricity in the air, like somehow my future self knew all along, knew that this story and experience would be one of those that shape me profoundly. As I write this it seems so real, like it is happening right now. I can’t remember the whole day, but that match in the finals was simply awesome.

Andy and Gurney are going at it, and as the third period starts Andy chooses bottom position while losing 3-2. If he stands up and escapes he ties the match, if he reverses he wins and if he is held down or turned to his back he loses. It is a one minute period. Jumping yelling and motioning from the corner it was like I was part of him. He waited, waited with the cunning of the youth and with about 15seconds to go he hits a switch and snags two points. Screaming to hold on, Andy grinds the last moments away. To this day, from standing at Madison Square Garden as event support for the Millrose Games to winning State titles and cheering my wife on during many great races that season of coaching might have been my best… so far.

11,10,9,8....

Eleven days to go. Maine’s USATF meet at Cony HS will probably not field any competition for me, but who knows. I am going to bring it. My goal is to run a 1:57.9 or better. I will be reasonably pleased with breaking 1:58.8, the beginning of this season’s goal and something only done in a running start time trial. I am capable of much faster, but that point is kind of bitter sweet. It carries with it all the mistakes that have led to an injury at the one point in the season when you really don’t want one. But I am prepared for the race, and I will do a 98% time trial 800 on Tuesday just to make sure. Today's workout went alright, but my calf hurt pretty bad a couple of times and was kind of lame the whole time. With three days of easy running and one day completely off and then a time trial, I am hopeful.

everybody poops

“We should accept our bodies with good grace and a touch of humor, as naturally as animals do” - Michel Eyquem de Montaigne

One time, during a 10mile run, I had to shit so bad that I ran off the road, through snow and forest to squat and explode. With no leaves and only gritty late Febuary snow, I basically just smeared it around my bottom trying to wipe. As I was doing this my friend drove by, not seeing me off the side of the road, leading me to sprint, shorts stretched like a rubber band mid thigh, miserably trying to get his attention.

A closer look at a backyard 4th of July race

My wife ran the Walter Hunt 3k in 9:52 for the 4th fastest time and to be the third fastest female to run the course. The two women with performances in front of her are Wendy Delan, 9:28 course record holder 1987, and Cassie Hintz, 9:42 2005 and 9:43 2004. They ran those times as young women with Cassie still in High School. The race also has a large portion downhill. At first glance my wife’s race doesn’t look that great, but with a better perspective things change.

Besides sporadic "speed bumps" the race has two spots of long moderate inclines, a few 90degree turns, you can never run the perfect tangent as on a track, the pavement doesn’t “bounce” back as on a track and you don’t have on spikes as you would on a track. Talking to local living legend Riley Masters, I asked him what he thought the advantage of this overall race was and he said, almost verbatim, “yeah it’s a tough race, maybe 5-7 seconds quicker than a track.” I agree with the man. Plus there is another factor of downhill races, the downhill and crowd can take you out too quick, it leaves you very rubbery the second half of the race, with most contestants running within a handful of seconds of their first mile time in the last 1400meters.

So, even though the race is called the fastest race in Maine, in truth looking at the great competitors like Adam Goode and Riley Masters contrast it against their track times and you find closeness. With Adam, he is at a slightly better advantage because he is a true veteran of the race, and is in tip top racing shape coming off an impressive Tour de Luc 10miler. With Riley, Walter Hunt is slightly slower because this is just a 4th of July community run, not the NCAA championships. A lot of people don’t realize that to run as fast as Riley does, means portions of the year he isn’t that quick. Believe me, he is still quicker than most and is in tip top shape, but his primary concern is laying base for cross country, then indoor and outdoor track after coming off a red shirt season. He knows where he is in his season and year plan, and if he doesn’t then his excellent coach, Mark Lech, definitely does.

Jen’s time of 9:52, is not a legitimate 3k time, but isn’t that far off. I think she might have broken 10 on the track, same day, same people, same crowd effect. But what about the two girls who ran faster times, a high schooler and a college freshman being ten seconds and 24 seconds ahead of Jen in performance? Well, Cassie holds the outdoor state record in the 10k set in 2004 with a 34:36. In 2005 she ran 16:45 5k for the indoor state record and also did a 10:37 two mile. According to Gilbert & Daniels VDOT performance chart a 10:37 two mile (not 3200) is the equivalent talent performance as a 9:50 3k, right on with the 5-7 second correction. Wendy had a very successful running career but most notably holds the 800meter indoor state record set in 1987 with a 2:13.6. The year before that she set the indoor mile record (not 1600) in 5:00.6. These are the performances of national caliber athletes, regardless of their young age, and it is an honor for Jen to be a stones throw from them.

At the end of the day, the time isn’t so important. It is a backyard race on the 4th of July. My favorite part was taking place in the community of it. The atmosphere of activity and like mindedness with the volunteerism of so many people; to be part of the race is just invigorating. Jen worked for her time, not just in the nine minutes and fifty-two seconds of running it but in the months, and arguably years, leading up to it. Just like the race, it didn’t just happen while it was being run.

Most remarkably, just comment worthy not that it was shocking, the Capehart's took on race director roles and put together an excellent run that went off on time. Reliable start times is one of my all time favorite aspects of a race. Also at a closer look this downhill 3k isn’t such an easy race, you see on the Men’s and Women’s side top competitors, with the top four men all 8:35 or better (good enough to win it many other years) and the Women's side having two under 10min and the third with a 10:18 (also good enough to win it many other years). These are the times of people who could walk onto any Division one team in the nation if they had eligibility, and most schools would even find money for these kind of performances. While I am not surprised that the race was done so well, it is kind of cool that a small city in the middle of nowhere Maine can put together a field of competitors like that.

Happy Birthday my great friend the U.S. of A.

Waking up at 7:30am and dismissing the idea of doing a morning workout before I’m out of bed, a real hopelessness grips me. I feel that the workout won’t go well, the primary reason I am shouldering the workout from this morning to this afternoon. A large part of me is debating calling this year, taking a break from running and then starting the next years training. My calf injury is getting better, but running a decent 800meter race seems so far away and there is less than two weeks for my last shot. Jen is doing a 3k race today and is going about her pre competition routine.

It may have been there all along, but then it strikes me that using the 3k as a workout would be a fun way to get the work done while participating in a community event. Part of me worries that it might exasperate the calf’s knot, but then I think if it does viola, I will take my break now. Telling Jen the racing decision is like lifting a weight off my shoulders and hers. She seems happier the rest of the time and reminds me again, “Take it easy, just do a good workout” moments before the gun goes off for the Walter Hunt 3k.

The race is done in a flash. Sticking to the plan, I take it out comfortably hard and don’t open it up until the last 300meters or so finishing in 9:03. Jen also sticks to the plan and kicks some ass with a 9:52. Later that afternoon comes the second half of today’s test. Jen is doing 3 x 300 and I am doing 3 x 200. She bangs them out in 53, 53 and 54 while I go 29, 28 and 28. My calf still not a 100% but I feel back with it, I feel free!

Evolving respect

Any runner who seriously contemplates the gifts of our athleticism will come to a deep abiding respect for their own personal unique genetics. There is something unspoken between us and our ancestors, a sort of evolutionary nod to the greatness they achieved. As if by running, sprinting or sweating our body through any coordinated motion we are reconnecting with men, women and early primates long dead.

“Thank you,” we softly say down to our DNA, “you evolved such grace and desirable attributes.”

“No,” they reply from genomes buried deep within our souls “thank you! You still use what we worked so hard for.”

From your head to your toes

A few feet into the run and it felt different. Still a little sore but not so much in the calf and I don’t even notice it toeing off. It feels good trying a few bounds but somewhere my calf is still not a 100%. Not pushing my luck, I continue through an easy 20minutes of running. Getting home, I stretch for a while. Using a step and letting my heel push down with my toes grasping the wood through well worn shoes, I moan and straighten my alignment. The tension in my calf lessens as I grasp the banister and contort my whole body into the stretch. Left hand’s fingers wrap around banister supporting by left hip, elbows mirror 90 degree angles, left leg up with toes dorsi-flexed, right arm in free standing pinnacle swing of the running action and driving that shoulder into lower back flexing ass muscles thought taut hamstrings with supporting solid quad ripped in through knee down oak like calf into right heel stretched through toes.

An easy 20min on July 1st

The whole day
crisp clean heat,
shimmering blankets unfold from black pavement.
Cars sweat exhaust around slick limbs.
A dirty automobile caress
less across breast
as light changes green
and cars move again.
More road with islands of green
pocketed by paved sidewalk,
soft earthy breaks from the dullness
and unforgiving rhythm
of pavement and asphalt.
Home after hill
climbed with practiced ease,
sweat only now really showing.

Buzz Lightyear

Pondering the moment, the instant, the snapshot that flitters by freeing the next moment from possibility to reality I find that it is massively large and long. Yes, it disappears in a flash, but when you look at that flash there is impossibly so much going on. Scents passing through nose, bird crap making it part way to the ground, eyelashes fluttering and infinite other things share that 1/16 of a second. While that moment if infinite, great and incalculable it is also transient and this is a paradox. Cantor, the infinity man, pondered this self contradiction to madness. In a brief way, I see a larger and smaller infinity like this.

The moment holds it all, more than could ever possibly be taken into account. The next moment also holds that, and the next and the next and so on… for infinity. And that is my loose grasp at how their can be smaller and larger infinities. If you are to look at a long period of time it is filled with moments filled with infinite actions and details. That longer period of time is both in one sense infinite and filled with many moments that are too infinite. However it also can be talked about as finite in any instance of time like a race.

When I finish a race knowing that it was moments that made it up I also know it was earlier moments that made up the later ones. Building or breaking based on how you felt, there always seems, even if at times elusively, that there is an eternal aspect to the race. That while it takes a definite time, and we all know the time because it is a race, there is this feeling of ever lasting infinity in that moment rounding the track.