Tag Archives: workout

I Am A Runner!

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Today, I am RUNNER!  Yes, I have been posting this series of columns on running for about a year, but until this weekend, I was working to regain my status using a minimalist style.  I am there.

Just a year ago I read Born to Run by Chirstopher McDougall and decided to give minimalist running a try. Those of you who have followed and read know that making that change after 40 years running in technical shoes is not a simple adjustment. Compounding that was my own impatience at a few points along the way.

It has been a step function of progress with quick growth followed by plateaus of stabilization.  I have discovered many things about style and technique as well as myself over this past year. More than that I have made some great virtual friends who share the running passion and who have offered encouragement and incentive. Many of them don’t even know it, but that is how those things work.

So, why today? Why this point in time to declare that I am a runner?

It is the day after the day after.  You all know what I mean.  The real pain of a long run isn’t felt until the day after the day after.  This Saturday, October 13, I ran the ING Hartford Marathon.

It was the longest run I’ve made in minimalist style by almost a factor of two.  The timing of the race didn’t allow me to use a typical prep schedule.  I gave my physical conditioning in minimalist precedence over the mileage and concentrated on staying healthy. To compensate the lack of mileage I did more hill and interval work more frequently.

The morning of the race was cold – about 38F at the start. I dress for the “second mile”, so I had my shorts, a compression top and a long sleeve jersey and my minimalist shoes. Because of an ill timed blister I couldn’t wear my Luna Sandals, so I opted for a pair of NB Minimus shoes that I have been using on trail runs. Use shoes that you have run in even if they aren’t the perfect match for the course. It took a bit more than the second mile to warm up, but the day was sunny and not much wind to speak of.

It is a beautiful course. Starting in downtown in a large park we set off along a series of pathways along the Hartford River. Rolling hills provided views of the river, oarsmen, trees turning color in the early fall, and the tall buildings of Hartford.  It would have been a perfect venue for a stroll, but me and the 17,000 other runners weren’t in a stroll kind of mood.

Breaking out of the city we spent the majority of the race running through the surrounding residential area of Hartford.  Streets lined with tall trees and a relatively flat grade. It was a wonderful place to be as the air warmed up. I felt good as I approached the turnaround at mile 15 or so. But, having done a couple of marathons before, I knew the real challenge was at mile 20 and beyond.

I loved watching the elite runners heading past us before I hit the turnaround. It was in their eyes.  None of them were looking around, just down the road at their goal. The focus and natural movement was awe inspiring. I will never be fast, but I want to be that smooth.

At mile twenty I felt the depression start to set in.  I had been drinking at must about every water station and munching a Cliff bar and some raisins as I ran to help payback the 2860 calories my app said I burnt.  I started to doubt myself.  My feet were feeling the pain. I was in uncharted territory.  Those puppies had only been subjected to 15 miles at the most during my regeneration as a runner.  Concentrating on form was taking all the mental energy I had. Well, not really. A lot of my mind was focused on living inside the pain.  Not my legs but my feet.  Remember, minimalist shoes offer no cushion and I hadn’t had time to build up the stamina.

When I hit mile 22 I had to stop while I opened up a ziplock baggie with raisins in it.  My fingers were so cold and stiff they couldn’t grip the plastic while I ran. Even standing I spent 20 seconds or so trying to get the damn thing open. I started to worry that I’d freeze up. Finally, a clump in my mouth and a second in my hand I zipped it up, tucked it in my waistband and started up again, another cup of water to help.

And it felt okay.

Mile 24 and I knew I was home. I was letting the aches and pains of my body flow through me, remembering the words of Scott Jurek – “Dig Deep”. He inscribed those words into my copy of Eat & Run.  I also knew that mile 25 held the last climb of the race. A curving path up an entry ramp then over an overpass.  It gains about 75 feet in a half mile or so. The perfect thing to do after 25 miles!  I hit the climb with a smile on my face. I felt enough reserve to be able to power up the beast and enter the downtown area with less than a mile left powered by the cheers of the crowd.

At the end there is a sharp left turn to reveal the arch tower that is a monument of Hartford. The race finishes under the beauty and power of those arches.  Legs enriched by the sight of the end find strength and move to the finish.

Water, food and some beer from Harpoon brewery made the end of the race comfortable, although I was stiff as hell.  Then a long drive back home. a warm shower, and spending some time with the family.

That evening I paid attention to the aches and pains.  Hydrating continued as well as munching on fruits.  Dinner was pizza and beer, which is always on my training table.

Sunday found me with soar ankles and feet.  That I kind of expected, but I also had a little tenderness in my knees.  I didn’t worry about it, but didn’t push it either.

Then I noticed that I could walk up and down stairs without any tightness in my thighs.  In previous marathons the thighs had taken a toll and I had to walk down stairs backwards as a result. I kept in motion the whole day.  Fish for dinner after a smoothie for lunch and an afternoon of working in the yard and garage.

Now, here I am on Monday morning and I feel normal. I have no real pain in my legs or feet. I am amazed.  I had almost dreaded getting up this morning because the day after the day after is always a deeper lingering pain. None. Nada. I walked down the stairs to my home office and a cup of coffee and I am normal.

It is the minimal style.  It is body friendly. I know that now.  And that is after running 26 miles in 3:56:30 – my second best ever – without the mileage I really should have logged. It tells me that this was the right choice to make and I am no longer wondering if there is a gottcha at the end of the minimalist conversion.  Well, there is. The gottcha is the you want to run longer than 26.2!

I have completed a full marathon, running in minimalist form for the duration.  I didn’t just survive, I ran. I finished in a time I never expected. Yes, the transition is complete.

Today I am a Runner!   Run Free.  Dig Deep

Transition Time

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It’s been coming.  I haven’t talked much about it because I have these personal superstitions that if you talk too much about something before it happens, it won’t come true.  Coming back from a four miler yesterday I decided it was time.

I am now a minimalist runner.  The transition is complete. That doesn’t mean the work is over, though.

What clued me in?  It wasn’t just the mileage – which has been building nicely – or any one thing in particular.  On a long run the other day I noticed something.  That got me noticing other things.  Subtle things.

A Breath of Fresh Air

The trigger was my breathing.  It had changed.  When heel striking I had a two step cadence.  Two steps inhale then two steps exhale.   As I was about six miles into a ten mile run I noticed I was breathing on a three count.  It wasn’t something I had tried to do or even thought about.  I don’t know when it happened or if it was that way from the start.  There I was cruising along at a nine-minute per mile pace on a long, slow distance run feeling the motion and I noticed my inhale and exhale had changed.

Then I realized my breathing was easy and natural.  When I ran with a heel strike my exhale was much more pronounced, like when you do  benchpress reps.  Now, in natural form, I had a conversational exhale.  And I was running at a similar pace, with a higher cadence.  Clearly, my diaphragm was not getting bumped as hard or my body was just more relaxed so the breathing was easier.  I still did the tummy breathing as always, it just felt more comfortable.

There is a quote from Caballo Blanco in Born to Run that crossed my mind right at that point:

Think Easy, Light, Smooth and Fast.  You start with easy, because if that’s all you get, that’s not so bad.  Then work on light.  Make it effortless, like you don’t give a shit how high the hill is or how far you’ve got to go.  When you’ve practiced that so long that you forget your practicing, you work on making it smooooooth.  You won’t have to worry about the last one—you get those three, and you’ll be fast.

I had finally gotten to smooth.  Fast was never my goal in transitioning to minimalist running.  For me it is all about longevity and distance.  I want to run a long time, in both senses of that phrase.  That moment in a ten mile run I realized I could run much longer than I ever imagined.  Yes.  There was a smile.

The Feat of Feet

The transition has not been without frustration and some pain.  As I said in the first entry of this journal, I’ve been running in modern shoes for more than 40 years.  That is a long time for muscles to slack off and get out of shape.  Those initial runs killed my calves because I ran too far too soon in minimal fashion.   That was when I was still trying to figure out what to run in and what the right form felt like.  I’ve tried a number of shoes and sandals as well as barefoot.  Here are my weapons of choice.

Running weapons of choice

My Luna Sandals and Lemming Footwear are my weapons of choice.  There are other sandals and minimal footwear out there.  I have learned that no two pairs of feet are the same, so what works for me may not be right for you.  It is a bit expensive, but try some options if you can and let your feet be the judge.

Keep in mind that the transition takes time and no footwear is going to change that.

The transition will go through stages, which will also vary by individual.  For me, the pain of conditioning seemed migratorial.  Every stage of progress led to a different group of muscles protesting.

There was the top of foot pain that came early on.  I thought it was because I had my sandals tied too tight.

Then came the arch muscle pain.  You could expect that one, but it confused me that it didn’t come until I started to run in the 4-6 mile range on a regular basis.

For a short time I had some sensitivity on the ball of my right foot where the strap came between my toes.  I’m a guy and don’t really pay much attention to my feet.  What I discovered was a small callous from the strap that had grown to the point where it rubbed on the sole of the sandal.  I do play guitar and my fingertips have small callouses, so this made sense to me.  Nothing painful, but I did discover that sanding the callous off made it much more comfortable.  That is now part of my routine every week or so.

Then came the ankle pain.  I think it might have started from a slight twisting I had while working in the yard, but there it was on both ankles.  It came when my mileage moved up to the 7-9 mile range.

With each of these pain points I listened to my body and didn’t push it.  I didn’t shy away from the pain as long as it was not debilitating, but I didn’t ignore it.  What encouraged me was that the pain would go away a short time after the run.   I’m used to other muscle groups going through workout pain, but I’ve never exercised my feet or ankles.  This was new territory for me.

The Recovery

I also learned to pace myself on my journey.  It is not usual for me to rest multiple days between runs when I was moving to the next mileage plateau.  I didn’t baby the muscles in pain, I just didn’t run as long or as often while the adjustment was going on.  I found alternate exercise (riding my bike or doing P90 or whatever) for those non-running days.  Walking around barefoot or in socks often and I tried to work my feet as I walked.  Soar muscles are part of strength development.  I hate that “no pain, no gain” macho shit, but there is truth to it.  Just keep going.

Here’s the interesting thing.  As I took extra days off, it didn’t effect my mileage ramp up.  I’m now at the half-marathon length runs about a month ahead of when I had planned to be there, but I am in now way following a half-marathon training schedule.  Which is kind of wonderful because I am running at a competitive pace to my shod self.

Eye on Ultra

Breaking with my superstition of not talking about something I am going to do, I am now targeting some ultra length runs.  Along with marathon distance runs, I am looking at 50K and 50M runs later this year. It is something that I have never dreamed of doing in my heel strike mode.  It was painful at the end of the marathons I’ve run before.  I don’t just mean muscle soarness, which is expected, but my body just felt beat up.

The idea of ultra became real for me at the end of that ten miler.  The last three miles I listened to my body.  It was my longest run after transition.  My form was good and it was something I seldom thought about.  My breathing was smooth and even, much easier than ever before in running.  My pace was right where I wanted it to be for that distance at that point in training.  The hills came at me and I just moved up them with a smooth step.  Yes, I had to breath harder as I worked the hills, but it felt like I was running them, not fighting them.  Shorter steps at the same cadence.

As I pulled into the last mile I felt an ease in my run.  I always try to finish faster then when I start out.  My stride was comfortable, easy and natural.  In that moment, when ten miles were nearly expired, I felt I could go on.  In that moment, I knew that I was born to run.  There, on a street in New England, I felt a common line of heritage to my ancestors who first wondered out on to the plains of Africa.  They could run all day.  I am built of the same stuff.  Why couldn’t I?

Transition – Again

I am a minimalist runner now.  This journal will follow me to the next step.  Becoming a runner of long distance.  I may never get to the intensity of century runs across Death Valley, but in the back of my mind I feel I can run a century and I plan to.

Running, for me, is a time of personal reflection.  That does not mean that running is a solo sport.  I draw on a large community of runners, shod and barefoot, at #running on Twitter and elsewhere.  We share a passion and spirit.  When I read of someone killing a race or running a mile for the first time I smile, send a congratulatory note and think of them when I am on the road.  The one thing that we have in common as a species is that we ran together to survive.  Before language or tools, we ran.

This week I watched “The Perfect Runner”, a film written and directed by anthropologist Niobi Thompson.  In that film he said something that was almost a direct quote of my high school wrestling coach.  “Your body can take a lot more than you can give it.”  If you’ve watched The Biggest Loser, you know that that is absolutely true.  Don’t be foolish in ramping up, but don’t be afraid of pushing yourself.   You’ll be amazed at the places you can go (thank you Dr.Seuss!).