Barefoot running

I have moved to the dark side and begun experimenting with barefoot running.

Barefoot running seems to have suddenly turned into a crusade in the US with websites and best-selling books. My friend Glen admitted to being a complete convert and evangelist for the barefoot running cult. Glen gushed about how running has eliminated his running related injuries, and how he just clocked a 10-year PB in the Vibram five-finger, a rubber sandal which apparently replicates one's bare foot.

I had been gingerly jogging a couple cool down laps bare foot on the track over the past few months since Bob, Namban leader suggested it to the club. But last night I decided to push a bit faster. I took off my shoes before the last 1000 interval in a 6x1000 workout. Pulled along by the energy of a group of 20 fast runners, I was amazed to blast through the first 200 meters in 40 seconds and finish the 1k in a respectable 3:27. The other runners seemed amazed too - "Jay, you forgot your shoes" several people shouted.

This morning the soles of my feet felt a bit tender, and my heel and right achilles tendon ached a little bit. Apparently it takes months (or years) to adapt to barefoot running. But given my chronic running injuries/imbalances I figure it is worth a try to at least do some of my running barefoot.

And anyway with the Great Recession, I cannot afford to keep buying $150 running shoes.

Choshi Triathlon

Japan has been barraged by typhoons the past few weeks.  Fortunately the Choshi Triathlon fell on this past Sunday --  the one gorgeous, sunshine-filled day.  Teammate Mary provided a ride to Choshi in her spacious SUV so I felt like I was back in the US.  I was still completely unorganized prior to the race and arriving 90-minutes before the gun did not give me nearly enough time to properly socialize with friends and register and pin numbers on my singlet and use the restrooms and deal with bike problems and eat/caffeinate exactly 30 minutes before race time and splash in the water, etc.  Nevertheless I somehow frantically made it to the starting line and ultimately did well -- 

Swim - 27:11 My primary goal for the day was to execute on the swim, and incorporate some of the improvements I have made in my swim technique this past year. So when the gun went off I energetically high-stepped through the shallow water. When I actually begun to swim my heart rate was high, I was breathing heavily and it took a long time to get into a rhythm. In fact I was feeling a bit discouraged until I noticed the numerous orange-colored swim caps around me. The orange caps meant that I had already caught up with swimmers from the 2nd wave which started 3-minutes before mine. I started in the 3rd wave and  I found myself facing a constant wall of swimmers in front of me throughout the race. However I was able to pass on the inside. Since I prefer to breathe to the left it was easier to stay to inside on the clockwise course and elbow my way right under each of the inflatable buoys marking the turns.  "Work the pocket" I kept telling myself, and was happy to see a time of 26:30 as I left the water (prior to long run to bicycle which completed the swim portion). 

Bike -1:24:46 - My goal for the bike segment was to avoid having anything really, really bad happen -- somehow I succeeded, though I did have a few near collisions on Choshi's tight corners and my bike made some irritating and worrisome noises. It was a pleasant ride. Maybe too pleasant. I need to push myself a bit more on the bike - unlike running and swimming I do not automatically push myself when bicycling. Next year I hope to ride with a bit more intensity.

Run - 40:17 - I hoped to break 40 minutes on the 10k run. But unlike my last two triathlons at Murakami and Niijima, I felt spent at the start of the run. Normally I am pretty good about cheering and waving at teammates as we pass each other on the course, but on Sunday I was reduced to just grunting when my fellow Nambanners yelled support during the numerous out-and-back loops. I managed to drop to 3:45 pace on the 2nd of Choshi's 4 run loops, but struggled from there to gut out a reasonable time - probably the best time I could expect going in.

Despite all the logistical challenges and high entry fees, I really enjoy experiencing triathlons and intend to do more than two next year (and certainly will try to do Choshi again).

Prize Money

I journey thousands of miles to Singapore to compete in the Singapore Bay Run.  And it is worth the 7-hour flight.  I win hard cash - 200 Singapore dollars (along with a Timex triathlon watch and other random prizes).  The big race payday almost covers the entire cost of my trip (which is not difficult since I used 20,000 award miles and teammate Fabrizio negotiates an amazing deal for us to cram a bunch of guys into the ultra-luxury Mandarin Oriental hotel).   

My half-marathon time is a rather lame sounding 1:26:50.  But it felt almost as fast as the 1:19 I ran in February.   

The Bay Run is the biggest running event in Singapore with over 70,000 participants and it seemed like most of them were ahead of me at the 1k mark.  I went out in a relaxed 4:10 pace and then picked my pace up slightly so I passed hundreds and hundreds of fellow runners through 20k. 

Needless to say it was terribly hot and humid in Singapore, even at the 5:30am starting time - I was told that the humidity would 

add 5-minutes to my half-marathon time.  But even though the heat slowed me down, running in the pre-dawn darkness was much, much easier than the mid-day sunshine of the half-ironman events I have done.  

My time was good for third place in the veterans division far behind the veteran winner from Thailand (not to mention the overall winner from Kenya).  But I was happy to take the money.  I am tempted to move to South-East Asia and live off race earnings.  

Wendy Mile

Despite the traumatic experience in January, I participate in another beer mile last week - the Wendy Mile. I am even one of the instigators of this seemingly unhealthy event - an event in honor of teammate Wendy - who appropriately enough is a medical doctor specializing in gastroenterology.

Fortunately this event was a relay rather than a full mile - so I only had to drink one beer and run 400 meters. The festive event makes for a fine social outing and lead-in to dinner.

New Nambanner and Washington Post writer, David Nakamura captures the essence of the event with his article for the Atlantic.

I always hoped to make it into such a fine publication. Never thought it would be in the FOOD section...

Mongolia - Sunrise to Sunset

I traveled to Lake Hovsgol in northern Mongolia this past week for the Sunrise to Sunset Marathon.

Mongolia is becoming a regular destination for me. While some people summer in normal places like Maine or Tuscany, I seem compelled to deal with the long jeep rides and yak milk of Mongolia. This is partly due to the fact that the stunning wide open spaces of Mongolia are a perfect antidote to the concrete and clutter of Tokyo. Also Sunrise to Sunset is considered one of the most unique and well-organized adventure runs in the world. And also I was able to journey from Narita to Ulanbaatar for a mere 20,000 award miles.

Sunrise to Sunset is held at a Ger Camp along the shore of Lake Hovsgol. Lake Hovsgol is touted as one of the most unique locations in the world - however upon arrival it struck me as identical to the lakes near Seattle (and my teammate Isobel says it looks exactly like Lake Taupo, New Zealand). Identical that is other than the Gers (or yurts) - the portable, felt-covered tents used by the nomadic people of central Asia. The Gers are really quite comfortable with softbeds and woodstoves to keep us warm at night

I "only" run the 42k marathon event. I say "only" because half of the participants are doing 100k. At least 8 ultra-marathoners urge me to do the whole 100k and I find myself actually considering this. But then I snap back to reality - even 42k is longer than my average weekly running mileage over the past 4 months. Anyway I am not equipped for 100k. I am hardly equipped for 42k. The organizers are a bit dismayed by my lack of water and warm clothing. But I have a compass, an iodine tablet, a caffeine tablet, a Platypus waterbag, and a couple Power Gels so I feel prepared to survive if I wander off course and cross the border into Russian Siberia.

The race starts in total darkness at 4am and I quickly do wander off course. Fortunately the sun soon rises and the route is quite well marked and I do not lose much time. I had been a bit caught by surprise at the start. Apparently I should have expected that the Swiss organizers would start on schedule, even if half the participants are still milling around. My slow start and strategy to take regular walk breaks early, means that I am still near the back of the field after the first few kilometers. Then over the next 20k I steadily pass almost the entire field. It is interesting to strike up conversations with the other runners, all of whom are in high spirits at this early stage in the race. From 21k on though I do not see any other runners.

It is at around 21k that I decide breaking 5 hours will be a worthy goal. But clambering through underbrush over the course's second big hill (from 28k to 32k) sucks up a lot of time and I hit 32k in a few minutes over 4 hours. I do not wish to trash my legs, but I am determined to break 5 hours and run most all of the last 10k to finish in roughly 4:59. At the finish I learn that a young Mongolian runner finished ahead of me, so I am second overall and am the first veteran finisher in the 42k. Remarkably though, two 100k runners had reached the 42k mark ahead of me. The other remarkable thing is how 42k does seem like a rather short day after running with all the 100k competitors - 42k seems almost inadequate at the time - like something to apologize about.

But I am glad to save my legs -- and still experience Sunrise to Sunset. The experience of staying at the Ger Camp with 100 ultra-marathoners from Mongolia and from all over the world and then the shared experience of doing the race is extremely rewarding.

During our fabulous 2.5-day journey back to UlanBatar across the rolling green steppes of central Mongolia, Gary and Isobel and I discuss plans for next marathon - the Sahara Marathon.

Kamakura 5k Swim

I swam well at the Kamakura 5k Rough Water Swim this past weekend. My stroke felt stronger and I finished a surprising 21st place out of some 170 finishers. I am astonished to place so high -- I would never dare to even call myself a "swimmer" The swim has been something I simply tried to survive and make it to the bike and run. Now I have visions of entering more swim events.

My time (1:33:30) is 3 minutes slower than last year. However it would seem that in open water swimming, comparing times from event to event is not meaningful.

My teammate, Motozo, who I used to swim head to head with blows me away by some 4 minutes and wins the age division. Whereas I gingerly wade out into the water when the starting gun goes off, Motozo aggressively porpoises through the first shallow 100 meters and builds a 2 minute lead on me after the first of 3 loops.

I made a concerted effort to start slowly and smoothly, and I presume that I will overtake other swimmers toward the end. In fact I find myself tiring toward on the final loop and I am passed by several competitors. Oddly enough it my legs that feel most tired toward the end.

Swim Friends 2 - Remedial swim training

At my second swim squad workout the coach Steve is shocked and appalled at my breathing exclusively on my left side.  Apparently it is not worth bothering working on other stroke mechanics until I can get down the basics.  

Breathing on my right side is a skill that has eluded me since first attempting to swim as a young child.  Fortunately over the past year through the osmosis of various swim drills, breathing on the right size has become a somewhat attainable feat, albeit in a clumsy and inefficient manner (my legs drop a bit on every breath).  

Steve has me doing nothing but 5-stroke breathing pattern always alternating sides, switching to a 3-stroke pattern when my swim mechanics deteriorate too much and I start sputtering and suffocating.  Steve informs me I can breath on my strong side in races but need to build balance and efficiency during training.  

Swim Friends

I drag my feet on joining our new Tokyo swim team - "Swim Friends".
Not because of the name (yes, Swim Friends is hardly the most
fear-inspiring swim team name, but I could understand that most of the
swim training market is young children).

No, it has taking me forever to join the swim team because: (1) I am
so destitute and increasingly parsimonious about paying for swim
workouts -- "my running and cycling teams do not charge $20 every
track session" I grumble, (2) I am lazy about going to swim outside
the comfort and convenience of Roppongi Hills Spa, and (3) Joining
swim squad requires a money transfer by bank ATM which is such a
complex ordeal for me in Japan.

But I need to prepare for the upcoming Kamakura 5k swim, and so on
Tuesday I journey to the public pool at Sendagaya. At 2:30 in the
afternoon the pool is blissfully empty.

After only a few warm-up laps our coach, Steve, starts providing me
useful feedback - (brush my shoulder against my ear on strokes to make
sure I am narrower and creating less surface resistance in the water,
try to kick more vertically, etc...).

Moreover, just having someone asking about my stroke count per lap and
breathes per stroke is valuable. At this point I can manage to do the
50-meters in less than 55 strokes and breathe on every 3rd or 4th
stroke.

I realize I should have joined Swim Friends earlier.

Niijima Triathlon

I competed in the Niijima Olympic Distance triathlon this weekend and did well - finishing 39th out of 170 finishers in a time of 2:28:15:

SWIM - 26:28 (93rd place)- I swam smoothly o

nce I got into a rhythm halfway through the first of the two swim laps. Swimming is the area I have been working on the most, and I had hoped to see more improvement since last year.  But it is hard to gauge swim performance (outside the controlled environment of the pool), and I struggled a bit in the open water and never really found anyone to draft comfortably behind.  I had dreams of keeping up with Motozo, but he was over a minute ahead. The cold water was a bit of a shock and may have slowed me a bit at the start by contributing to my need to initially breath on every stroke.  I suffered through 10-seconds of pure anguish upon plunging into the ocean at the start, and feeling cold water seep down my back into my wetsuit.  Yet I much, much, much, much prefer the tens of seconds of hardship at the start of the race versus the 40+ minutes of pure hell of running on a hot day (and sweating for an hour or more on the bike).  It was a bit of a challenge though getting out of wetsuit because my hands were a little numb and I was in the usual post-swim daze.  My transition must have been 4 minutes (but am not sure as the official transition times are included in the bike times.

BIKE - 1:22:05 (76th place): Unlike swimming, I had not trained much on the bike.  I recall writing the same thing last September about Murakami triathlon, and for Niijima my bike prepar

ation was even more feeble.  But I maintained my position reasonably well and 

felt like I was cycling pretty darn fast.  Niijima is described as a "technical" course with lots of tight corners and bumpy road surface and I am a particularly inept cyclist these days and kept hitting my brakes .  I found the bike course is reasonably flat considering this a is a mountainous, volcanic island.

RUN - 39:42 (4th place) - I ran very well, finishing with the 4th fastest run time in the field. Again, like at Murakami triathlon, my legs felt surprisingly good getting off the bike.  And like the Fuji-Susono half-marathon 

six days earlier, the Niijima run begins with a long, tough uphill and then continues to be a roller coaster pretty much the entire 10k.  But unlike Fuji-Susono, Niijima was cool weather and that made all the difference.  Niijima is a good course for seeing and cheering on teammates and it helped me to have the extra incentive of trying to overtake Phil and Nick.

NIIJIMA ISLAND - The Niiji

ma Triathlon is a wonderful weekend trip.  Embarking on the huge passenger boat at night from Tokyo feels like an exotic adventure.  And the island itself is in fact quite an exotic, tropical destination (especially considering you are still technically in Tokyo).   How many other triathlons have free, open air, natural hot springs beautifully perched on a rocky oceanfront cliff 300 meters from the finish?  The post-race party with most all the participants starts in these "Roman baths" then moves to sashimi dinner provided by the race organizers.  Cycling  around the spectacular island on Sunday morning completes the adventure.

(pictures courtesy of Mika T)

 

Gotemba Resort

Last year I could never be 100% sure that Mount Fuji really was looming over the Fuji Susono course, no matter what Yoshida-san kept saying - everything was shrouded in fog throughout the cold, drizzly weekend. And last year the half marathon was astonishingly easy for me - I somehow ran a 1:20:18 on the roller coaster course.

This past weekend at Fuji Susono saw clear weather and hot temperatures - Mount Fuji made for an impressive backdrop for all the photos that are huge and festive group took. And this year the half marathon was astonishingly difficult for me - I ran a 1:25:03 and even struggled on the long downhill finish.

Everyone was a bit slower this year - I only dropped from 4th to 6th place in my division. But my teammates did not seem to struggle nearly as much as I did. Perhaps I am weaker in the heat like I always like to complain about.

Or perhaps my 30+ teammates were just more realistic and wiser than me and took my advice about just relaxing at the bizarre Gotemba Resort and microbrewery.

Ome Takamizu 30k

Your longest runs should never be more than 50% of your weekly mileage according to conventional running wisdom.  I suppose this is even more true if the long run is a rugged trail race like last Sunday's Ome Takamizu 30k. 

The past two Ome Takamizu races I had fared so well. This year I followed the same strategy as the last two times -- going out slowly and surging past people over the final two-thirds of the run. Through about the 22k mark everything unfolded as it had the previous two runs and as I moved up to 25th place. But then I simply ran out of strength. 

The thing that puzzles me is not why I ran out of strength this year - it is how I could have done so well the past two races on such little training (50k or less per week of running).  My theory is that I had been doing so much more ironman bicycle training (and a few more mountain trail runs). 

Tokyo Marathon 10k

I woke up on Sunday morning before the Tokyo 10k focused on one thing - fighting my way through the crowd of runners at the starting line to get a good position.  I was assigned the "B" block. When teammates Keren and Frank and I arrived in the B corral 35 minutes before the starting gun we could barely make out the starting white block off in the distance, with the thousands of runners packed in front of us (see picture).  We tried to be as polite as possible as we wound through the crowd, and maneuvered our way to a spot within only 10 meters of the starting line.  We had done it!  Frank and I congratulated each other on our accomplishment - "otsukare sama".

When the starting gun did go off it struck me that I still needed to actually run the damn race.  Being so close to the front meant I went out like a bat out of hell.  I felt tired almost immediately, and struggled in the wind. 

I spotted a pack of runners with one guy wearing "pace runner" on his back and tucked in behind them.  I discovered the pack was surrounding Harumi Hiroyama, the second seeded Japanese female marathoner.  It turns out she was running 3:29 per kilometer pace and I dutifully (and stupidly) followed.  I knew almost immediately I would be in trouble and could not maintain the pace.  But much of the first 6k was downhill so I just hung on as long as I could.  My 5k split was 17:22, 6k was 20:51.

The last 3k into the wind was an ordeal. Once the 10k and marathon groups split there was suddenly no other runners near me.  I staggered home in 36:22.

36:22 is an acceptable time for me - it is about what I ran in my last three 10ks, but it was hardly spectacular.  However the effort was good for 7th place out of 5,000 runners.  The crowd and volunteers cheered me at the end like I was a famous star.  It was all rather glorious, and I felt that the effort to get to the front at the starting line did pay off.

Masters Swim at Pebble Creek

I joined the masters swim sessions at the Pebble Creek community pool during my recent stay in Arizona. Pebble Creek is an "active senior community" - and so, as you might expect, the community swim squad is an intense and competitive group. On one side of me is Jim, a retired schoolteacher, who started entering sprint triathlons and he sprints out way ahead of me on the 300 meter warmup and first set of 75s. Meanwhile on my other side is Katherine a 70+ Senior Olympics swimmer. I manage to stay well ahead of her on the warmup, but then she puts on a pair of long fins and on the 75 meter intervals we swim neck and neck. The group does the usual variety of swim drills and our coach, Bill, is excellent - goading us on and reminding me to keep my gaze farther ahead, keep my hands flatter as they enter the water and not to let my arm stroke cross over the centerline of my body.

We finish the workout with 8x200s - each length of 200 at progressively faster pace. With each 200 I work hard to swim faster, while my fellow swimmers seem to be tiring. On the final intervals I push myself with all my remaining strength and simply destroy Jim and the 70-year old woman - finishing at least half a length ahead.

Gasping and wheezing at the edge of the pool I lock eyes with a grotesquely overweight woman plopped in a lounge chair amidst the crowds of poolside sunbathers. I detect a look of outright disgust. Perhaps the sunbathers are annoyed by our splashing and noise? or feeling guilty at lolling all day long in the Arizona sun? Meanwhile however I feel a sense of camaraderie now with the rest of the swim squad, and they seem impressed that my interval times are faster at the end of the workout than at the start. "You have remarkable stamina" Coach Bill tells me. I am feeling a bit sheepish about all my competitiveness with 70 year old women, and don't want to babble on about ironman.. I simply say that yeah I have done a bit of long cycling and running and it seems to help make up for my poor technique.

Running in Arizona Desert

It is 85 degrees (3l degrees Celsius) as I head off into the desert for my long Sunday run.  Fortunately the temperature drops rapidly as the sun sinks to the horizon and so I start my run around 4pm in an effort to finish just past sunset..  Once I get beyond the inner 2-mile loop, crest a hill and look out and see no one else for miles.  Just hundreds of enormous saguaro cactus.   I run at what seems like a solid speed, but the trail drops in and out of washes (dry river beds) and by the time I hit the 14k mark I realize I need to pickup the pace.   Unfortunately I am tiring a bit by this time.   I see birds circling round and round above me and I assume they are vultures who are betting that I will not make it back to the trailhead and that they will be able to feed on my carcass.  I push on more quickly and the sun casts amazing shadows against the mountains.  I am really tired at 16k and alternate between walking the rocky, hillier sections and sprinting sections of flat, hard-packed trail.  Of course it is dangerous and imprudent to start the run so late.  (And I should know better having once scrambled through the dark across lava in Volcano National Park in Hawaii - guided by the sight of car headlights on a distant highway).   But after the sunset the red sky in the desert and the lights of the sprawling city of Phoenix are magnificent.  (and I refuse to run in the afternoon heat)  

Running at Google

On Friday I traveled to the Googleplex, Google's headquarters in Mountain View California, to run with my Berkeley classmate Glen and the Google employee lunch run group  

I thought about

 complaining about all the problems I have loading pictures and charts into this blog (Blogger is owned by Google), and complain about my startup's poor ROI on our adwords campaign.  But I am just way too exhaused as we race around the landfill area next to SF Bay.  As you might expect at Google, the runners are intense - several are competitive triathletes.  

Supposedly even Google has been forced to cutback on expenses during the global economic crisis - but any austerity drive was not apparent to me.  After the run we quenched our thirst with unlimited free smoothy drinks and showered in the comfortable employee changing rooms.  And it is a challenge to choose from the unlimited free food prepared by world-class chefs in the cafeteria - spicy green curry soup, black sea bass, masala chicken - it went on and on.  

Palo Alto Tri Club

I lived in Palo Alto, California from roughly 1997-2002.  In those days I thought a lot about becoming a triathlete but did little other than bike through the rolling Peninsula hills and occasionally join a group jog on Wednesday nights through the streets of Palo Alto.

 

On Wednesday, I finally make it back to the weekly 5.5 mile run.  Of course I intended to keep up with the leaders and demonstrate how impressive I have become.  However I get cutoff at a light at around 2 miles and never manage to catch up. 

Just like in Tokyo the group goes out to a Vietnamese restaurant after the run.  Vietnamese food seems to have become the universal choice among run clubs.  Except in this case it is a spacious restaurant in a strip mall along El Camino rather than a cavernous hole-in-the-wall.   And I also could also tell this was America because with everyone at dinner talked about their jobs and their investment portfolios.

Sitting there it felt that nothing had changed since 2002, but then I recall that at least now I have some claim of being a real triathlete.   

Shibuya Ekiden

My teammates in our 4-man relay last Sunday really set me up for glory.  I was the anchor runner and was handed the sash in second place in the field, 5-seconds behind the lead master's team.

Within 500 yards I managed to catch the leader, and then stayed behind him, thinking maybe I should just wait until the last 100 meters and t

ry to sprint.  But, as captured in this picture, I surged into lead at around 

1k and held on to cross the tape 12-seconds ahead of second place.

Here are my teammates and team sponsors, Juergen and Fabrizio, amidst the 

extravagant Shibuya award celebration.  

Beer mile

I ran a beer mile yesterday.  

A beer mile entails drinking one beer befo

re each of the 400 meter laps that make up a mile. 

Why would I do this?  

I had heard a lot of discussion of the beer mile from my teammates and studied the beer mile website and was simply curious -- how would I do?

I did terrible. 

When the starting gun went off I realized quite quickly that I ca

nnot drink a can of beer as quickly as other people.  I caught up with many of the other participants on the first 400 meter run lap and felt fine run

ning.  But then I had to choke down a second beer which seemed to take forever and I found myself in last place.  The third beer took me 2-3 minutes to consume, and the fourth beer was not much faster.  It felt so good to stop drinking the horrid beer and be able to run.  I still felt quite strong and fast running even the 4th 400 meter lap.  Though on the 4th lap of the race I somehow got lost.  Apparently I was a bit drunk by this point - none of the other 20 odd runners seem to have gotten lost on the simple loop through the park.   

"You are not a strong drinker are you Jay?" asked Satohi, Japan's number one beer miler who finished in an extraordinary time of 8:10.  Apparently drinking is not my strength.

Next year I am hoping for a coffee mile.