John texted me early yesterday that he couldn't come on our 6-mile run on the W&OD Trail so I ran the six hilly miles, mostly on the Custis Trail, with a workmate and her cousin, both trying to get ready for long hilly races. Both were fun to run with, smart and interesting to talk to. It was a pleasurasble run.
The conversation with my office mate centered on deposition conduct (we're both lawyers) and with her cousin, Obamacare (she's in a thinktank trying to implement it). I told them that since they both went to University of Chicago I shouldn't even be talking with them they're both so brainy. But since I can run faster than either of them I was drawing them along on the trail and they both humored my liberal tendencies.
Up and down the long steep rollers on the Custis Trail we went while I talked to one and then the other, depending on how out of breath each one was. When they were laboring on the uphills, I told them cop stories from my old State Patrol days in Colorado. The sixty minutes went by easily enough, at least for me.
This is what I love about running, that early in the morning on Saturday you've done a significant workout and enjoyed it, and the full weekend is still stretching out in front of you, I had a 5K race coming up the next day, my first race since Thanksgiving, and I felt good about its imminence. After a post-run cup of coffee, which H and A bought for me, we each went off to our appointed weekend rounds.
Showing posts with label Custis Trail. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Custis Trail. Show all posts
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Saturday, March 9, 2013
I hadn't done those rollers in over a year
I ran with John and H today on the hilly Custis Trail. We were slated for five miles but an injury brought us up short at 4.2 miles.
It was my best run in a while. There are two ferocious hills on the trail and I steamed up them like old times while John and H doggedly hung onto me. I hadn't been on those high rollers since late 2011.
I also ran by many acquaintances I knew from my former running club, of which I used to be president and now no longer have anything to do with, Kevin, Mary Anne, Sasha, Roger and the current president, who as usual pretended he didn't see me. This last mention is a classic case of See ya Wouldn't want to be ya (when someone finally figures out what he's been up to).
A beautiful day in the greater DC area. I hope North Korea doesn't rain on our parade anytime soon by obliterating these wonderful trails with its threatened nuclear strike on DC.
It was my best run in a while. There are two ferocious hills on the trail and I steamed up them like old times while John and H doggedly hung onto me. I hadn't been on those high rollers since late 2011.
I also ran by many acquaintances I knew from my former running club, of which I used to be president and now no longer have anything to do with, Kevin, Mary Anne, Sasha, Roger and the current president, who as usual pretended he didn't see me. This last mention is a classic case of See ya Wouldn't want to be ya (when someone finally figures out what he's been up to).
A beautiful day in the greater DC area. I hope North Korea doesn't rain on our parade anytime soon by obliterating these wonderful trails with its threatened nuclear strike on DC.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
What a Cool Diss
I have fallen into social running, and like to talk to runners on trails as I fall in with them. But I'm also 59.
I was doing nine miles on the hilly Custis Trail with John who was getting ready to run the ATM when we ran up on a thirty-something woman running the trail with her headsets on. She was wearing a shirt I absolutely recognized, the gray long sleeved tech shirt from the 2006 NYCM, which is my favorite marathon ever! Yeah, I did that race.
I overtook her and asked, "Did you run that race?"
She ignored me. I said, louder, "Your shirt. Did you run the 2006 New York City Marathon?"
Looking annoyed, she cast a glance in my direction and ripped out an ear bud. "Yes," she said.
I was abreast of her now. "I ran that race too," I said. "It was my favorite marathon."
She coolly said, without missing a beat, "I thought I recognized you."
I said, "Have a nice run," and pressed on. John caught up with me a minute later.
Her put-down was perfectly delivered and unanswerable. We had to stay ahead of her for the rest of our run.
She wasn't the greatest looker and I'll bet I beat her but she had a classic retort. I should have remembered that I never talk to runners I pass when they're wearing headphones.
I was doing nine miles on the hilly Custis Trail with John who was getting ready to run the ATM when we ran up on a thirty-something woman running the trail with her headsets on. She was wearing a shirt I absolutely recognized, the gray long sleeved tech shirt from the 2006 NYCM, which is my favorite marathon ever! Yeah, I did that race.
I overtook her and asked, "Did you run that race?"
She ignored me. I said, louder, "Your shirt. Did you run the 2006 New York City Marathon?"
Looking annoyed, she cast a glance in my direction and ripped out an ear bud. "Yes," she said.
I was abreast of her now. "I ran that race too," I said. "It was my favorite marathon."
She coolly said, without missing a beat, "I thought I recognized you."
I said, "Have a nice run," and pressed on. John caught up with me a minute later.
Her put-down was perfectly delivered and unanswerable. We had to stay ahead of her for the rest of our run.
She wasn't the greatest looker and I'll bet I beat her but she had a classic retort. I should have remembered that I never talk to runners I pass when they're wearing headphones.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Anatomy of a 12K Race
Today was the club's Hospice 12K race, which started at Bluemont Park in Arlington. The 7.456 mile course burns up a couple of miles on the flat W&OD Trail and then heads up the hilly Custis Trail for a five mile out-and-back. It's a nasty five miles. Then it's head for the barn on the W&OD again. Did I tell you the Custis Trail is hilly? It's like they sing about in the Army marching song, Over Hill, Over Dale...
A goal of mine is to run a 12K in under an hour. I should be able to do it because an 8:02 pace will get you there. I have run sub-8s in race distances all the way up to a half-marathon, but it didn't h
appen in either of my two prior 12Ks, a 1:02:54 (8:26) in 2003 on a muddy course around Burke Lake in Fairfax and a 1:01:40 (8:16) at the same Hospice 12K last February. (At the 12K last year, I missed my goal of breaking an hour.)
Last year's race was a milestone of sorts because it marked the first time that a runner I had formerly coached in a training program beat me. Sasha, a former student of mine and currently a valued coach in the Half-Marathon Training Program I direct, ran thirty-eight seconds faster than me at last
year's race when she finished with a time of 1:01:02 (8:11) Thus was the torch passed. (Sasha, on the right, before last year's race with another Program runner, S.)
No Program trainees were there this morning that I saw. Full-Marathon Program coach Ben was there and we nodded hello.
I was concerned about ice on the trail (see my last post) but the race director had done good work in getting his volunteers out to scatter rock salt on some bad spots and had changed the start and finish of the course a little to avoid a long shaded rutted stretch of trail. The morning was crisp, 39 degrees. but warming up quickly. I wisely set my fleece outerwear aside and raced in technical shirt, compression shorts (for my always-tender hammies) and running pants, gloves and hat.
What I unwisely didn't do, however, was hydrate properly before the race. I should have carried a water bottle along, as I often do in races, but all the water bottles in my car were frozen solid.
Getting underway in the big field where the start/finish line was caused everyone to get spattered with mud. It was a slow undertaking to emerge onto the trail from there but once on the W&OD, there was room to operate. The usual early race jockeying went on and I saw many familiar faces from countless other local races. The same people tend to always be around you in races.
There were a few small icy patches on the trail where we all had to slow down and proceed with caution for a few steps but it was the same footing for everyone. The path was surprisingly clear.
I saw a marking taped onto the path that indicated one mile. My stopwatch said 6:40, which was way too fast. I said to no one in particular, "That's no mile!" The runner next to me looked at his Garmin and said in confirmation, ".87." A minute later I heard a chime which I recognized to be his Garmin signalling a mile. I clicked my lap counter at 7:38, right where I wanted to be. But that was only the first mile and that was on the flats.
Ben, who is faster than me, soon passed me but then I passed him back as he slowed down to a walk. He was evidently experimenting with a run/walk routine. Soon he flew by me again and I never saw him after that. He took Program honors today by finishing way ahead of me.
I was following a good-looking woman, which always is a pleasant distraction, but she was slightly faster than me and was very slowly pulling away. As I chased her trying to keep up, I came upon a groaner and a grunter who was about my speed.
Noisy runners are not a pleasant distraction, but I couldn't get away from her. I passed her four or five times in those early miles but she always passed me back. She finally settled in about 30 yards ahead, far enough away that her sighs and groans were diminished.
We passed a big "2" taped on the trail and I looked at my watch, which indicated 6:50. Too fast for the second mile. The mile markers were way off and I disregarded them thereafter.
We hit the cutoff for the Custis Trail and went up it. And I mean up. And down. And up. And down. Two and a half miles of wicked little, and big, rollers outbound to the turnaround point. We traversed the same rollers the opposite way on the way back. My speed was definitely dropping and runners started passing me.
The race leaders came sprinting by. First going by in the opposite direction was local legend Michael Wardian, the country's current 50K, 50-Mile and 100K champion. I imagine he won as he had a minute lead at that point. I noted the first woman to go by, a club runner, and saw two other locally renowned women chasing her. I wonder if the club runner held on to win.
I was getting hot and thirsty by this point. I really wished I had some water. We passed the course's sole water table about a mile up the Custis, but they were handing out water in little 2-ounce dixie cups. I grabbed one on the fly but most of the precious liquid spilled on the exchange and I only got one tiny swallow.
The groaner had stopped momentarily to drink her water so I caught up with her. Thus started anew the slow process of having her once again get far enough ahead to where her groans and sighs didn't distract me.
Soon I saw runners going by with whom I had been running amongst back on the flats so I knew the turnaround was near. As I went around the cone, the marshal there said, "Halfway done!"
Not! My watch said 35 minutes and I hoped I wasn't on course for a seventy minute run. I was shooting for sixty minutes and I thought I might make it, or at least beat last year's time of sixty-one forty. The turnaround cone was further than halfway because the marshal hadn't factored in the out-and-back part on the W&OD Trail.
The hills were daunting on the way back. I just took them one at a time. I run the Custis Trail often so I knew when the two most ferocious rollers were behind me but that still left a seemingly unending progression of smaller hills stretching out ahead of me.
Since I was ignoring the misplaced mile markers, I ran by feel, just like in the olden days before I got my Ironman watch with its 100 lap counter. Although I couldn't tell my pace each mile, I was sure that I had fallen way off of anything approaching sub-8s.
I passed the sole water table again and grabbed an extended tiny cup a little more delicately as I went by this time so I spilled less of it. I quaffed two ounces of delicious water and wanted some more. Up ahead was one more volunteer holding out a water cup. I extended my arm in signal as I approached her, but she moved her hand and I missed grabbing the cup. Instead I merely knocked it from her hand. Calling out "I'm sorry!" over my shoulder, I ran on, wishing I had gotten that water. But coming back I was running into the wind so I no longer felt so overheated.
A steady stream of runners passed me, a dozen or so. I only passed one runner myself after the midway point, and he passed me back anyway. The two of us got into a little duel as we exited the Custis Trail and got back onto the W&OD for the last leg home.
Coming through the tunnel which passes under the Interstate Highway (the Custis runs alongside it, but they didn't bother to grade the trail like they graded the nice, flat Interstate), he came up to pass me but I cut him off by taking the turn back onto the trail sharply. He patiently waited his turn, then on the sharp left turn onto the W&OD, he came sharply inside of me and forced me wide and behind him at the turn. Then he proceeded to put me away the last half mile.
By this time I had come up to within 10 yards of the groaner. I thought she was tiring and I figured I might take her. But once she came off the hills, she also took off and pulled away from me.
Soon I could see the turnoff into the field we had started from. I glanced at my watch and it was over an hour so I knew I had missed my goal. A fellow about my age had caught up and was running alongside of me. He was the only runner I held off all race. When I saw the finish I ramped it up somewhat and entered the field ahead of him. I was careful not to slip on the muddy field and passed the finish line in about 1:00:40 (8:08). It was a minute faster than last year, a PR, but still short of my goal.
The groaner was by the finish line, doing some post-race stretching. I congratulated her on her excellent finish. She said her time was a few seconds under one hour. I thought wistfully, If only in that last half mile, when I was a mere ten yards behind her, I had matched her strong move towards the finish...
But I was happy with my race. Yesterday I ran a tough 11.2 miles on the Mall with my training group in the cold and wind, including traversing once up the imposing Capitol Hill and twice up the smaller hill leading to the Washington Monument, so maybe if I'm rested for my next 12K...
A goal of mine is to run a 12K in under an hour. I should be able to do it because an 8:02 pace will get you there. I have run sub-8s in race distances all the way up to a half-marathon, but it didn't h
appen in either of my two prior 12Ks, a 1:02:54 (8:26) in 2003 on a muddy course around Burke Lake in Fairfax and a 1:01:40 (8:16) at the same Hospice 12K last February. (At the 12K last year, I missed my goal of breaking an hour.)Last year's race was a milestone of sorts because it marked the first time that a runner I had formerly coached in a training program beat me. Sasha, a former student of mine and currently a valued coach in the Half-Marathon Training Program I direct, ran thirty-eight seconds faster than me at last
year's race when she finished with a time of 1:01:02 (8:11) Thus was the torch passed. (Sasha, on the right, before last year's race with another Program runner, S.)No Program trainees were there this morning that I saw. Full-Marathon Program coach Ben was there and we nodded hello.
I was concerned about ice on the trail (see my last post) but the race director had done good work in getting his volunteers out to scatter rock salt on some bad spots and had changed the start and finish of the course a little to avoid a long shaded rutted stretch of trail. The morning was crisp, 39 degrees. but warming up quickly. I wisely set my fleece outerwear aside and raced in technical shirt, compression shorts (for my always-tender hammies) and running pants, gloves and hat.
What I unwisely didn't do, however, was hydrate properly before the race. I should have carried a water bottle along, as I often do in races, but all the water bottles in my car were frozen solid.
Getting underway in the big field where the start/finish line was caused everyone to get spattered with mud. It was a slow undertaking to emerge onto the trail from there but once on the W&OD, there was room to operate. The usual early race jockeying went on and I saw many familiar faces from countless other local races. The same people tend to always be around you in races.
There were a few small icy patches on the trail where we all had to slow down and proceed with caution for a few steps but it was the same footing for everyone. The path was surprisingly clear.
I saw a marking taped onto the path that indicated one mile. My stopwatch said 6:40, which was way too fast. I said to no one in particular, "That's no mile!" The runner next to me looked at his Garmin and said in confirmation, ".87." A minute later I heard a chime which I recognized to be his Garmin signalling a mile. I clicked my lap counter at 7:38, right where I wanted to be. But that was only the first mile and that was on the flats.
Ben, who is faster than me, soon passed me but then I passed him back as he slowed down to a walk. He was evidently experimenting with a run/walk routine. Soon he flew by me again and I never saw him after that. He took Program honors today by finishing way ahead of me.
I was following a good-looking woman, which always is a pleasant distraction, but she was slightly faster than me and was very slowly pulling away. As I chased her trying to keep up, I came upon a groaner and a grunter who was about my speed.
Noisy runners are not a pleasant distraction, but I couldn't get away from her. I passed her four or five times in those early miles but she always passed me back. She finally settled in about 30 yards ahead, far enough away that her sighs and groans were diminished.
We passed a big "2" taped on the trail and I looked at my watch, which indicated 6:50. Too fast for the second mile. The mile markers were way off and I disregarded them thereafter.
We hit the cutoff for the Custis Trail and went up it. And I mean up. And down. And up. And down. Two and a half miles of wicked little, and big, rollers outbound to the turnaround point. We traversed the same rollers the opposite way on the way back. My speed was definitely dropping and runners started passing me.
The race leaders came sprinting by. First going by in the opposite direction was local legend Michael Wardian, the country's current 50K, 50-Mile and 100K champion. I imagine he won as he had a minute lead at that point. I noted the first woman to go by, a club runner, and saw two other locally renowned women chasing her. I wonder if the club runner held on to win.
I was getting hot and thirsty by this point. I really wished I had some water. We passed the course's sole water table about a mile up the Custis, but they were handing out water in little 2-ounce dixie cups. I grabbed one on the fly but most of the precious liquid spilled on the exchange and I only got one tiny swallow.
The groaner had stopped momentarily to drink her water so I caught up with her. Thus started anew the slow process of having her once again get far enough ahead to where her groans and sighs didn't distract me.
Soon I saw runners going by with whom I had been running amongst back on the flats so I knew the turnaround was near. As I went around the cone, the marshal there said, "Halfway done!"
Not! My watch said 35 minutes and I hoped I wasn't on course for a seventy minute run. I was shooting for sixty minutes and I thought I might make it, or at least beat last year's time of sixty-one forty. The turnaround cone was further than halfway because the marshal hadn't factored in the out-and-back part on the W&OD Trail.
The hills were daunting on the way back. I just took them one at a time. I run the Custis Trail often so I knew when the two most ferocious rollers were behind me but that still left a seemingly unending progression of smaller hills stretching out ahead of me.
Since I was ignoring the misplaced mile markers, I ran by feel, just like in the olden days before I got my Ironman watch with its 100 lap counter. Although I couldn't tell my pace each mile, I was sure that I had fallen way off of anything approaching sub-8s.
I passed the sole water table again and grabbed an extended tiny cup a little more delicately as I went by this time so I spilled less of it. I quaffed two ounces of delicious water and wanted some more. Up ahead was one more volunteer holding out a water cup. I extended my arm in signal as I approached her, but she moved her hand and I missed grabbing the cup. Instead I merely knocked it from her hand. Calling out "I'm sorry!" over my shoulder, I ran on, wishing I had gotten that water. But coming back I was running into the wind so I no longer felt so overheated.
A steady stream of runners passed me, a dozen or so. I only passed one runner myself after the midway point, and he passed me back anyway. The two of us got into a little duel as we exited the Custis Trail and got back onto the W&OD for the last leg home.
Coming through the tunnel which passes under the Interstate Highway (the Custis runs alongside it, but they didn't bother to grade the trail like they graded the nice, flat Interstate), he came up to pass me but I cut him off by taking the turn back onto the trail sharply. He patiently waited his turn, then on the sharp left turn onto the W&OD, he came sharply inside of me and forced me wide and behind him at the turn. Then he proceeded to put me away the last half mile.
By this time I had come up to within 10 yards of the groaner. I thought she was tiring and I figured I might take her. But once she came off the hills, she also took off and pulled away from me.
Soon I could see the turnoff into the field we had started from. I glanced at my watch and it was over an hour so I knew I had missed my goal. A fellow about my age had caught up and was running alongside of me. He was the only runner I held off all race. When I saw the finish I ramped it up somewhat and entered the field ahead of him. I was careful not to slip on the muddy field and passed the finish line in about 1:00:40 (8:08). It was a minute faster than last year, a PR, but still short of my goal.
The groaner was by the finish line, doing some post-race stretching. I congratulated her on her excellent finish. She said her time was a few seconds under one hour. I thought wistfully, If only in that last half mile, when I was a mere ten yards behind her, I had matched her strong move towards the finish...
But I was happy with my race. Yesterday I ran a tough 11.2 miles on the Mall with my training group in the cold and wind, including traversing once up the imposing Capitol Hill and twice up the smaller hill leading to the Washington Monument, so maybe if I'm rested for my next 12K...
Monday, January 28, 2008
Half Done
The Reebok Wirefly National Half-Marathon Training Group Program I run with on Saturdays is half over. We had our eig
hth long run on Saturday. (Left: Jeannie's group forming up outside Gotta Run,)
Jeannie was back from her travels (Germany, India, Egypt, Jordan and Israel, the Pakistan segment was cancelled because of the assassination of ex-Prime Minister Bhutto) so she took the novice group on a nine-mile tour of the heart of DC (Iwo, Key Bridge, the Georgetown Waterfront, Rock Creek Park, the Mall, Capitol Hill, the Pentagon). This is a woman who gets around!
(Right: Wintertime on the Mall.) Sasha was out of town so I took over her intermediate group. We attached ourselves to Matt's advanced group and ran twelve miles through South Arlington at a 9:30 pace.
The area is a warren of raised highways down there and Matt showed us how to get from the north-south Mt. Vernon Bike Trail which runs along the Potomac to the east-west W&OD Bike Trail which runs forty miles out past Leesburg. The W&OD maddeningly stops a mile short of the Potomac and is a veritable dead-end.
(Left: Wintertime on the Tidal Basin.) Making your way from the Mt. Vernon Trail to the W&OD involves obscure twists and turns along the city streets of Alexandria to a pedestrian bridge over twelve lanes of I-395 at Shirlington, a charming section of Arlington comprised of restaurants and shops. This route is known for the most part only to bicyclists, who are usually the only fit people in the area who know how to get from Virginia to DC without taking the hilly Custis Trail in North Arlington. After years of talk, money has finally been appropriated to extend the W&OD one more mile to the Potomac.
Coming back we ran the eleventh mile up Ridge Road, a long steep hill in South Arlington infamous to local runners. I was leading at what I thought was a strong pace, but as I huffed and puffed up the hill looking desperately for the crest, I could hear Matt and his group members casually chatting while following along right behind me. After the run Jeannie and Not Born To Run made time to go out for coffee with me so the morning provided an excellent
start to the weekend. (Right: Matt's fast group made me an honorary member last week,)
hth long run on Saturday. (Left: Jeannie's group forming up outside Gotta Run,)Jeannie was back from her travels (Germany, India, Egypt, Jordan and Israel, the Pakistan segment was cancelled because of the assassination of ex-Prime Minister Bhutto) so she took the novice group on a nine-mile tour of the heart of DC (Iwo, Key Bridge, the Georgetown Waterfront, Rock Creek Park, the Mall, Capitol Hill, the Pentagon). This is a woman who gets around!
(Right: Wintertime on the Mall.) Sasha was out of town so I took over her intermediate group. We attached ourselves to Matt's advanced group and ran twelve miles through South Arlington at a 9:30 pace.
The area is a warren of raised highways down there and Matt showed us how to get from the north-south Mt. Vernon Bike Trail which runs along the Potomac to the east-west W&OD Bike Trail which runs forty miles out past Leesburg. The W&OD maddeningly stops a mile short of the Potomac and is a veritable dead-end.
(Left: Wintertime on the Tidal Basin.) Making your way from the Mt. Vernon Trail to the W&OD involves obscure twists and turns along the city streets of Alexandria to a pedestrian bridge over twelve lanes of I-395 at Shirlington, a charming section of Arlington comprised of restaurants and shops. This route is known for the most part only to bicyclists, who are usually the only fit people in the area who know how to get from Virginia to DC without taking the hilly Custis Trail in North Arlington. After years of talk, money has finally been appropriated to extend the W&OD one more mile to the Potomac.
Coming back we ran the eleventh mile up Ridge Road, a long steep hill in South Arlington infamous to local runners. I was leading at what I thought was a strong pace, but as I huffed and puffed up the hill looking desperately for the crest, I could hear Matt and his group members casually chatting while following along right behind me. After the run Jeannie and Not Born To Run made time to go out for coffee with me so the morning provided an excellent
start to the weekend. (Right: Matt's fast group made me an honorary member last week,)
Thursday, August 30, 2007
A Full Day
Yesterday was a full day at the track and on the trails. I ran the bridges with M during the noon hour, 7.7 miles, in about 68 minutes. Ha, I had M, eleven years younger and faster than me to boot, begging for mercy after five miles. He tried to wave me on to continue without him when we got back into the District via the 14th Street Bridge near the Jefferson Memorial after our foray into Virginia utilizing the Memorial Bride by the Lincoln Memorial. But running buddies don't do that so I slowed down til he recovered. I capped my run off with a run up Capitol Hill (M works in a different building than me).
At 6:30 pm I took Metro to the Washington & Lee High School in Arlington for my club's Wednesday evening track workout. We ran for 20 minutes at ten-mile race pace, which I figure is 7:37s these days, so I shot for 1:48 laps. It was harder than I thought. Here were my splits: 1:48, 1:46, 1:47, 1:48, (then like a dying Energizer Bunny) 1:49, 1:50, 1:51, 1:55, 1:59, (last lap) 1:48, (cool down lap) 1:47. We capped it off with 2X400 at 5K race pace, which I figured should be 1:44s, 1:44, 1:39. That last lap I was chasing a 65 Y.O. friend of mine who was burning 1:37s. He's faster than me, sometimes, especially whenever he does track work. Then he leaves me with my tongue hanging out.
We finished the workout in the gathering gloom of the evening. I hopped onto the Custis Trail which feeds into the W&OD Trail which takes me directly to my back yard line, 4.7 miles away. I was a little tired and it got dark so I couldn't see my footfalls clearly so I went slow. What do you think about when you're running down a darkened but familiar trail? I was thinking that I hoped I didn't step on a snake on the trail even though I have never seen a snake on the trail. Our worst fears, you know? Give me a mugger to steal my two quarters for a pay phone call any day.
I got home in about 45 minutes, very tired and very glad to have this full day of running behind me. In chopped up segments, I did 16.1 miles including warmup and recovery laps.
I woke up this morning and my injured foot was throbbing. I overdid it, obviously. I'll keep you all posted.
My antics yesterday put me over 40 miles for the week for the second straight week and over 137 miles for August as I get ready for Chicago on October 7th. I still haven't done a twenty yet.
At 6:30 pm I took Metro to the Washington & Lee High School in Arlington for my club's Wednesday evening track workout. We ran for 20 minutes at ten-mile race pace, which I figure is 7:37s these days, so I shot for 1:48 laps. It was harder than I thought. Here were my splits: 1:48, 1:46, 1:47, 1:48, (then like a dying Energizer Bunny) 1:49, 1:50, 1:51, 1:55, 1:59, (last lap) 1:48, (cool down lap) 1:47. We capped it off with 2X400 at 5K race pace, which I figured should be 1:44s, 1:44, 1:39. That last lap I was chasing a 65 Y.O. friend of mine who was burning 1:37s. He's faster than me, sometimes, especially whenever he does track work. Then he leaves me with my tongue hanging out.
We finished the workout in the gathering gloom of the evening. I hopped onto the Custis Trail which feeds into the W&OD Trail which takes me directly to my back yard line, 4.7 miles away. I was a little tired and it got dark so I couldn't see my footfalls clearly so I went slow. What do you think about when you're running down a darkened but familiar trail? I was thinking that I hoped I didn't step on a snake on the trail even though I have never seen a snake on the trail. Our worst fears, you know? Give me a mugger to steal my two quarters for a pay phone call any day.
I got home in about 45 minutes, very tired and very glad to have this full day of running behind me. In chopped up segments, I did 16.1 miles including warmup and recovery laps.
I woke up this morning and my injured foot was throbbing. I overdid it, obviously. I'll keep you all posted.
My antics yesterday put me over 40 miles for the week for the second straight week and over 137 miles for August as I get ready for Chicago on October 7th. I still haven't done a twenty yet.
Friday, March 2, 2007
But Does It Count?
I finally got my 20 mile run in today. Supposedly I'm doing a marathon later this month. I haven't signed up for it yet, I think I'm secretly hoping it fills up before I register. But I figured it was about time to do my long run.
It's been a tough winter in DC because we had a long cold snap. So it's been hard to throw down a 20-miler. Plus I've been busy. I recently switched divisions at work. I volunteered to direct a weekly running program put on by my club, with the able assistance of Jeanne (she's 2d in command--actually, who am I kidding?), Bex (coach of the gazelles) and others. I organized a small informal running group, TIG (for The Informal Group), that went out on Saturday runs around the DC area.
I had good intentions of doing my long run with TIG. Its participants were training for a Half, so they didn't want to do more than 13 miles or so. I ran to one meeting place beforehand, and got in an 18-miler that way, but that and a 14-mile run were all I had really done since I ran the NYCM in November. Heck, I haven't even run 26 miles total in a week since November.
I had Friday off and it seemed perfect for finally doing a long run. Except my boss at work asked me late Thursday to attend a meeting on a time-sensitive work project on Friday morning with his boss. Even though I like my boss and his boss, I was reluctant to accommodate him because I prefer to do my long runs early in the morning. But I saw an opportunity here.
Okay, I said, I can be here at 10 tomorrow morning, even though it's my day off. Great, said my boss, see you then.
Work is eleven and a half miles away. How fun, and ecological, I thought, to run to work and back. I'll get my run in. I'll attend the meeting. I'll save energy. Everyone will be delighted. So that's what I did.
At 8 this morning I headed out the door. I started running towards DC on the W&OD Trail, a 40-mile long bike path made from a paved-over railroad bed that passes by right behind my house. (For those of you who know the W&OD Trail, my house is the second one west of the bike bridge.)
It was a temperate morning. A few bicycle commuters passed me, and one or two even gave me an audible warning that they were approaching at speed. The miles rolled by. Runners usually use the Memorial Bridge from Arlington National Cemetery to get into the District, but I ran over the Roosevelt Bridge instead, something I'd never tried before. The experiment worked because I didn't get lost or have to cross a roadway full of harried rush-hour commuters. Finally I attained the Mall and ran its length. It was lovely. I charged up Capitol Hill to approximate the hill late in the marathon I'm planning to run and then cut over to my office building near Union Station.
11.8 miles in 1:56:25, counting a comfort break by Roosevelt Island. 9:52 pace, kinda slow so far.
I bought coffee and a banana, changed my running shirt and attended the meeting. It was a good meeting, I thought. One attendee was getting over lingering cold, another had an infection that might be contagious and I was smack dab in the middle of a 20-mile run. We all placed our chairs far apart from one another.
Then I went to my office to measure on gmap how far I'd already run and calculated the pace. I went to the work nurse to ask for some petroleum jelly. She didn't have any so I substituted four bandaids instead. After 90 minutes I was off again to run home. This part of the run was a little tougher. A lot tougher, actually. Running home from work is "uphill" as the Custis Trail in Virginia, which feeds into the W&OD, is hilly, especially going west.
Running down the Mall wasn't quite so nice as it had been earlier. The wind had picked up considerably and was right in my face the whole way. It was sweeping down the east-west lying Mall so strongly that the flags around the Washington Monument were fully unfurled, pointing towards the Capitol like stiff boards. Running by each of the half dozen Metro stops I passed offered strong inducement to call it a 15-mile run and jump aboard public transit.
Passing over the Potomac by the Memorial Bridge, I entered Virginia within thirty minutes. The trail along the river was full of gigantic puddles. I got my shoes wet. I was hungry because the coffee and the banana, plus a Gu, were all that I had eaten. I drank the last of my water and I was thirsty. I tried to decide whether having given blood two days earlier was what was making me excessively tired, or if it was just because I was woefully out of shape.
I hit the sharp hills on the Custis Trail. I started clocking 10 minute miles, then 10:30 miles. Finally I turned onto the W&OD, which thankfully is flatter. Only 5K to go. Revived a little bit, I overtook and passed a bicyclist. (He was only four, with training wheels on his bike, so I guess it doesn't count.)
As I slowly counted off the last three miles to my house, I wondered if I'd even break two hours on the return trip. I abandoned my plan to run up the long steep hill near my house to cap my run. I debated endlessly whether I'd run over the bike bridge or take the flat path underneath it and cross King Street by running across the highway. But since the milepost is posted on the bridge, I ran over it. I checked my pace for the last mile and winced. Over 11:00.
I got to my driveway and stopped. It felt like I'd died and gone to heaven. 1:58:24 for 11.5 miles, 10:18 pace. Yikes. But the 20-miler was done (actually 23.3 miles). I had experienced the fun of running to work and back. How many people can say that?
But does it count as a long run? I had that 90 minute break in there...
It's been a tough winter in DC because we had a long cold snap. So it's been hard to throw down a 20-miler. Plus I've been busy. I recently switched divisions at work. I volunteered to direct a weekly running program put on by my club, with the able assistance of Jeanne (she's 2d in command--actually, who am I kidding?), Bex (coach of the gazelles) and others. I organized a small informal running group, TIG (for The Informal Group), that went out on Saturday runs around the DC area.
I had good intentions of doing my long run with TIG. Its participants were training for a Half, so they didn't want to do more than 13 miles or so. I ran to one meeting place beforehand, and got in an 18-miler that way, but that and a 14-mile run were all I had really done since I ran the NYCM in November. Heck, I haven't even run 26 miles total in a week since November.
I had Friday off and it seemed perfect for finally doing a long run. Except my boss at work asked me late Thursday to attend a meeting on a time-sensitive work project on Friday morning with his boss. Even though I like my boss and his boss, I was reluctant to accommodate him because I prefer to do my long runs early in the morning. But I saw an opportunity here.
Okay, I said, I can be here at 10 tomorrow morning, even though it's my day off. Great, said my boss, see you then.
Work is eleven and a half miles away. How fun, and ecological, I thought, to run to work and back. I'll get my run in. I'll attend the meeting. I'll save energy. Everyone will be delighted. So that's what I did.
At 8 this morning I headed out the door. I started running towards DC on the W&OD Trail, a 40-mile long bike path made from a paved-over railroad bed that passes by right behind my house. (For those of you who know the W&OD Trail, my house is the second one west of the bike bridge.)
It was a temperate morning. A few bicycle commuters passed me, and one or two even gave me an audible warning that they were approaching at speed. The miles rolled by. Runners usually use the Memorial Bridge from Arlington National Cemetery to get into the District, but I ran over the Roosevelt Bridge instead, something I'd never tried before. The experiment worked because I didn't get lost or have to cross a roadway full of harried rush-hour commuters. Finally I attained the Mall and ran its length. It was lovely. I charged up Capitol Hill to approximate the hill late in the marathon I'm planning to run and then cut over to my office building near Union Station.
11.8 miles in 1:56:25, counting a comfort break by Roosevelt Island. 9:52 pace, kinda slow so far.
I bought coffee and a banana, changed my running shirt and attended the meeting. It was a good meeting, I thought. One attendee was getting over lingering cold, another had an infection that might be contagious and I was smack dab in the middle of a 20-mile run. We all placed our chairs far apart from one another.
Then I went to my office to measure on gmap how far I'd already run and calculated the pace. I went to the work nurse to ask for some petroleum jelly. She didn't have any so I substituted four bandaids instead. After 90 minutes I was off again to run home. This part of the run was a little tougher. A lot tougher, actually. Running home from work is "uphill" as the Custis Trail in Virginia, which feeds into the W&OD, is hilly, especially going west.
Running down the Mall wasn't quite so nice as it had been earlier. The wind had picked up considerably and was right in my face the whole way. It was sweeping down the east-west lying Mall so strongly that the flags around the Washington Monument were fully unfurled, pointing towards the Capitol like stiff boards. Running by each of the half dozen Metro stops I passed offered strong inducement to call it a 15-mile run and jump aboard public transit.
Passing over the Potomac by the Memorial Bridge, I entered Virginia within thirty minutes. The trail along the river was full of gigantic puddles. I got my shoes wet. I was hungry because the coffee and the banana, plus a Gu, were all that I had eaten. I drank the last of my water and I was thirsty. I tried to decide whether having given blood two days earlier was what was making me excessively tired, or if it was just because I was woefully out of shape.
I hit the sharp hills on the Custis Trail. I started clocking 10 minute miles, then 10:30 miles. Finally I turned onto the W&OD, which thankfully is flatter. Only 5K to go. Revived a little bit, I overtook and passed a bicyclist. (He was only four, with training wheels on his bike, so I guess it doesn't count.)
As I slowly counted off the last three miles to my house, I wondered if I'd even break two hours on the return trip. I abandoned my plan to run up the long steep hill near my house to cap my run. I debated endlessly whether I'd run over the bike bridge or take the flat path underneath it and cross King Street by running across the highway. But since the milepost is posted on the bridge, I ran over it. I checked my pace for the last mile and winced. Over 11:00.
I got to my driveway and stopped. It felt like I'd died and gone to heaven. 1:58:24 for 11.5 miles, 10:18 pace. Yikes. But the 20-miler was done (actually 23.3 miles). I had experienced the fun of running to work and back. How many people can say that?
But does it count as a long run? I had that 90 minute break in there...
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