Opal would be proud

Opal was my maternal grandmother. As the first grandchild on both sides, I knew all four of my grandparents by their first names. It was several years and several grandkids later before they got cute grandparent names. She was always Opal to me.

It was a conversation with Opal one Sunday afternoon in 2006 that launched my streak of continuous daily exercise. She told me about her childhood, how she had to walk 5 miles to her best friend's house. In Arkansas, those were hilly miles, both ways.

People of her generation got a lot more exercise than people of my generation. That night I climbed on my stationary bike. Day one.

By the numbers

I logged an 8 mile run today at Lake Fayetteville. Day 6790.

With that I have crossed 1200 miles for the year, just a tad bit over 100 miles per month. That is the most for me since 2014.

That bit of reflection caused me to look back farther, not just over this year but all the years since that conversation in 2006. So far I have had

6790	continuous days of exercise
2395	hours on a stationary bike
5	worn out stationary bikes
16043	miles of running
57	pairs of worn out running shoes
7	full marathons
14	half marathons
1	50 mile ultramarathon
33	other assorted races
40	minutes walking up a down-only airport escalator

I expected security to show up at any moment on that last one.

Looking forward

Each day I start over. The entry in my log book is blank. I have to go do something to fill it.

Don't be impressed by any of these numbers. Just be inspired. If I can do this, what can you do? What will you write in your log book?

As we mark the beginning of another new year, go start something big.

Your Opal would be proud.

Not Yet Fall

Weeks ago I found an online article that discussed the physiology of running in the heat.  I wanted to remind myself that it wasn't just my imagination.  You physically cannot run as fast in the heat, at least not for long.

Per the article, as our core body temperature goes up, our heart rate increases.  We pump more blood to the exterior of our bodies, near the surface where the heat can get out.  Since more of our blood is near the surface, there is less available to the muscles themselves and we run slower.  Makes sense, pretty much what I remembered.

I also learned that heat tolerance decreases "as we get older".  That was a surprise.  The author was pretty convincing though, talking about her own experiences with training in the heat as she herself got older.  

It is really important to learn from older people, don't you agree?  They have all that wisdom gained through their vast experience.  I skimmed through more of the article and saw that this particular wise old internet sage was ... "almost 30".  Uhhhh...

MJ's Stampede 10K 

That heat stuff is suddenly pretty relevant again.  I just finished a 10K race this morning that was pretty darn hot and humid.  At the race start it was 77F with 88% humidity.  We were running along the river in Fort Smith, so the local micro climate probably had even higher humidity.

A few weeks ago when I signed up, I was hoping for much better conditions.  I thought I could run a 10K under 50 minutes.  By the time I reached the start line though, I knew to lower my expectations.  I told Shelly "probably 51".  Sadly, that wasn't really close.

 

Breathing

Once again I fell back on my breathing pattern to guide me.  If it is hot and humid, I know I have to slow down, but how much?  I slow down to achieve my target breathing pattern depending on where I am in the race.

I like to start off with an easy 4-4 pattern to stave off the adrenaline rush.  I can sing a little football cheer in my head to get my breathing in sync with my feet.  With 4 steps per breath it is, "Let's-Go-Wild-Cats" ... "Let's-Go-Wild-Cats" ... "Let's-Go-Wild-Cats".

As I approach the first mile, I get more serious with a 3-3 pattern, "K-S-U"... "K-S-U" ... "K-S-U".

On a good day, I can keep that up for the bulk of the race.  Then it devolves into a more desperate 2-2 pattern, "K-State" .. "K-State" ... "K-State".

Nearing the end of the race all that structure kinda goes out the window.  The song in my head is more like "$#@%!" ... "$#@%!" ... "%#@%!".

Today was a whole lot of singing "$#A%!" in my head.  At least I hope that stayed in my head.

I finished in 53:54.

Summer Runnin'

I don't have any firm race plans, certainly none this summer.  I don't like to race when it is hot.  Running in the summer for me is just about putting in miles and building endurance.  I ran 28 this week.



"Just how OLD are you?"

While running past a couple walking their dogs, passing them for the third time that morning, and having seen them many other times this year, he politely asked that question.  How old are you?

That reminds me, has anyone else noticed the change at parks lately?  They used to be filled with old people taking walks with dogs, old people sitting on benches, old people watching birds.  Not any more.  Nope.  Now everyone is my age.

Anyway, when I answered with my age (~59), he seemed amazed at my answer.  I hope that meant that they thought I was pretty darn fast for that age or at least that they were impressed with my stamina, or something.

Alas, though they may have just thought someone my age should really know better.  It is crazy to run in this heat and humidity, especially for us old folks.

I am going to go with the former.  They were impressed that I could do things that they couldn't, especially in this heat.



Built for Rugby
 

Distance running, especially for me, is all about heat transfer.  When you run a long time your core body temperature rises and if you cannot get that heat out then you slow down.

It is no surprise that all the best distance runners have that classic, lithe, toothpick thin physique.  They have no insulation.  Their inner core body is fully exposed to the air.  Heat is no problem.

Me on the other hand, I am not really built like that.  I struggle in the heat.  Even when I am "thin", I carry a lot of muscle and bone.  I have thighs the size of tree trunks.  I am built more like a rugby player.

Perhaps I should lean into my rugby physique at races.  Use it to my advantage.

At the starting line I always am on the lookout for the competitive guys in my age group anyway.  Once I find them, maybe I should run over and tackle them, rugby style. 

 Then, I could take off running, just as fast as I can.  I should be well motivated.  I sure don't want those guys to catch up with me after tackling them at the start.

Then, when I get the to the finish, I want to make sure everyone knows I finished, right?  I want them see my bib number clearly.  

Dive!

You can do that!
 

You may be like that couple I saw this week.  You don't think you can do the things I do.  I disagree.  I think you can.

I spent time outside this week enjoying nature.  I saw the sun rise, made some deer nervous as I got too close.  I listened to the creek bubbling gently over the rocks.  You can do that.

I saw friendly people out walking their dogs and exchanged pleasantries with them.  The people, not the dogs.  I smiled and waved at kids.  I gave a big thumbs up to encourage other people in their struggles.  You can do that.

I was all hot and sweaty, panting and totally out of breath in the car.  I was trying to put my clothes back on without drawing too much attention, flush in the face already and trying not to honk the horn with an elbow or a knee.  Then smiling contently as I drove away knowing no one knew what happened. 

See, you can do that!

In the Ditch

Shelly and I were watching a documentary with a couple of British comedians driving across Siberia, through ice and snow.

A local Siberian gave them some sage advice, "The slower you go, the faster you get there."  It meant, of course, that with the road conditions that bad, trying to drive fast will simply result in spending all of your time in the ditch.

I hate to spoil it, but, they spent all of their time in the ditch.  Plus, Brits don't know how to curse properly.  Wankers.

 

Training

That advice really resonated with me though, "The slower you go, the faster you get there."  That sums up my approach to training.  I know that if I push too hard, too fast, I will end up injured -- in the ditch.  I really am trying to avoid that.  Or, I was.

A couple of weeks ago I was scheduled to run a half-marathon but with just a few days to go before the race, I felt a familiar pain in my left calf.  I had pulled it, again.  I was back in the ditch.  Bollocks.

One Door Closes

While re-evaluating my training, I got some clarification on the NYC marathon selection process.  Their rules have been changing over the past year because the number of people wanting to run has swelled.

They publish qualification times by age group, similar to Boston but even more strict.  To qualify for Boston you have to be in roughly the top 10% of your age group.  The published qualifying times for NYC is closer to top 5%.  In both cases though, you can run that qualifying time and still not get into the race.  There are just too many entrants.

They just announced that of all the people who submitted a qualifying time this year for NYC, less than 1-in-5 got in.  Instead of running in the top 5% of your age group, you really needed to be top 1%.

That isn't realistic for me.  I have done the math.  Why are you laughing?  Of course I did the math.  Blimey.

Another Door Opens

However, NYC has other means of qualification.  

I don't have to run a marathon at all. I can qualify with a half marathon time (about top 5%) and I don't have to compete for spots with others either.  That catch is, it has to be one of their (NY Road Runners) half  marathons.

Now I just need to convince Shelly to go to NYC with me, twice.  Bob's your uncle.

Sweethearts

I ran the Sweetheart Run (15K) in Tulsa today.  My sweetheart was there, as always cheering me on.  

As many of you know, we just celebrated our 38'th wedding anniversary.  

I think she is going to keep me.

I make a point every day to tell Shelly how much I love her, often creatively.  I recently cracked her up with, "I am so lucky.  I can't believe your parents still let you sleep over with me!"

I have to be good at telling her I love her because I am bad at buying stuff.

Eating Elephant

Shelly has a favorite metaphor for accomplishing big goals or persevering though difficult situations.  "You eat an elephant one bite at a time".

Qualifying for the NYC Marathon is a whole elephant.

My plan for this race was to take another bite of that elephant, to run this 15K (9ish miles) in 1:17:00.  That is an incremental improvement over my last race.  Instead of running a 10K at 8:21 per mile pace, I hoped to run this 15K at an 8:16 per mile pace.  That is running both a bit farther and a bit faster.  

Training

My weekly mileage peaked at 33 in several recent weeks.  My longest runs were 11 miles.  I toss in a couple of harder tempo runs a week, sometimes hills, sometimes long intervals like 6x1K.  Otherwise, all my miles are as slow and easy as I can run with good form.

Sometimes I think Shelly isn't listening when I talk about my training like that.  It has to be boring, right?   She listens though, and will call me out if I say something extra silly.  This week I told her I was planning some extra rest days to get ready for the race.  She said,  "Wait.  Hold on.  You think 40 minutes of cardio on your stationary bike is rest?"

Race

I signed up for a nice flat race with good weather.  It started off very nice, just like I ordered.

I am on the left in the manly shade of quartz.  That was the color of the shoes I bought.  Quartz.  You know, like the stuff they dig out of dirty mines, with hand tools.  

Luckily I had a quartz shirt to go with those shoes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The day ended up more ... blustery.

I missed my goal by 3 seconds finishing in 1:17:03. 

It tasted kinda like elephant.