Run for the Cure 2013

I find myself back at Run for the Cure.  Back for the prizes.  

However I feel completely drained at the start.  The night before had been pretty intense and the lack of sleep along with the week's heavy running had taken a toll.  At the starting line I have largely concluded I will run this as 10k tempo run - I really don't want to experience any physical discomfort.  

So then I felt a bit distressed after 500 meters when I found myself in 4th place and in contention for those coveted prizes awarded to the top 3 overall finishers. I feel distressed because I know I will be upset with myself later if I simply wimp out and slow down and not make at least some sort-of effort.  And I feel distressed because I have a vague desire to throw up. 

My teammate George who I train next to during weekly interval workouts is not too far ahead of me in 3rd place.  And I summon the effort to tuck in beside him.  This allows me to benefit from George opening up a path for us on the crowded sidewalk around the Imperial Palace.  

Basically this becomes my strategy for the race -  do the minimum necessary for the maximum payoff.  OK, this is pretty much always my strategy, all of the time, but on this particular day I am unusually keen on executing on the strategy.

A group of the top 5 runners jockey for position over the two loops and I just try to stay right behind someone and hope I can find some kick toward the end of the race.  Fortunately there is a 500-meter downhill section toward the end of the race where I can lower my hands, lean forward and gather some strength, and then sprint into 3rd place.

I am happy to hold on and cross the finish line in 3rd place in 36:35ish.  The little competitive dynamic, the nice weather, the post-run autumn festivities in the Park make for a great event. 

 

Training Summary - November 30, 2013

I do manage to pickup my run training in November. 

The increase is largely thanks to doing hill runs and long runs with my teammates every weekend.  Nothing like socializing and camaraderie to boost the amount of running one does. 

I have continued to do easy swims most days of the week, but my cycling has dropped to zero.  Since August most of the quality and quantity of my triathlon practice has been in running; as you can see in the monthly mileage chart below from Running Ahead -->

Picnic 9.1k

You'd think I would have run enough 10-kilometer running races to have better figured out the pacing. But last weekend I blow up again during a 9k race – in a pattern nearly identical to my cross country race meltdown of 3 weeks ago (below). 

In the Picnic 9k, I tried to keep up with the two other guys and avoid running alone. I did not experience the oxygen-deprived traumatic pain of the cross country race – finding myself in last place after a frenzied sprint across slick and windy hills – but I was quite shattered after only about 3k as you can see in this picture (only one-third of the way through the run – hey, I am supposed to smile at this point)

So again - like in the cross country race - I managed to right the ship..  in the case of the picnic 9k I am blown along by a wonderful tailwind and I am figuring I clocked a roughly 36:45 wind-aided 10k time.  Not great, but not terrible. 

College Cross Country 10k

I compete in a the Western Washington University Classic Cross Country meet this weekend.

Needless to say, I am in way over my head.  

The college guys explode out off the starting line - I run under 3:30 for the first kilometer over the soft, slippery winding grass, and I find myself gasping for air, my heart racing, and I am near the very back of the field.  

But I expected this.  

I flounder through the 2nd kilometer, but manage to calm down and catch up with a small pack around 2k and am able to gut out a 38 minute effort which seems to be OK given the course.  

I feel slightly more worthy for having made the competitive effort to challenge myself against real runners (versus cherry picking un-competitive charity road races where I might win some prize...).  And it is a beautiful autumn day for running at Lake Padden.  

Watarase Half Marathon

I run a half-marathon race this morning in 1:24:14.

While it was not really a heroic effort, it was certainly not bad.

 Within the first kilometer or so I tucked into the middle of a big pack of guys running 4 minutes per kilometer.  It felt like such a comfortable pace that I simply maintained this position for almost the entire 21.1 kilometers.  When the pack did split up at around 19k I did make a feeble effort to pickup speed, but after running the same pace for so long I could not seem to find the gear to speed up.  

It was encouraging to feel so comfortable 19 kilometers into a half-marathon given my level of training and how I felt prior to the event.

I even receive an Adidas running belt for my 4th place age-group place.. 

Numazu Triathlon

I return to triathlon competition at the Numazu triathlon ekiden (relay) last weekend.   It is a unique triathlon relay in that all 3 team members complete the full sprint triathlon -- a 750/500 meter swim, a 20k bike ride, and a 5k run. Our club enters 4 teams and I am on the lowest seeded D team. 

I lead off for my team - and with only 50 meters between the rocky beach and the first turn, the swim start is even more frenzied than usual.  But I steer a course far to the outside - perhaps you can see me in the picture above - a lone pink cap veering wildly to the right, far, far behind the early leaders. 

Even though the 750-meter swim distance is significantly shorter, my time of 15:09 is no faster than my recent races of 1500 meters, 2-miles, and 3800-meter distances. No matter the distance and effort I end up swimming at a pace of 2-minutes per 100 meters.

But I am pleased by the effort when I emerge from the water and hear that teammate Stan (B Team)  is only steps in front of me (Stan being a strong swimmer and good benchmark for me from recent triathlons).  

We enter the transition and as you can see us pictured to the left. I had decided before the race to just plop down to take off my wetsuit. Meanwhile you can see Stan putting on his jersey backwards.  Despite this wardrobe mishap, Stan is faster out of T1.  And I never do manage to catch Stan on the bike.  But given my complete absence of outdoor cycling, I am pleased with my bike leg - I pass more than a dozen riders, covering the narrow, out-and-back course in 38:24.  

I am competitive on the 5k run segment which mercifully (given the hot day) is primarily on shaded trail. My recent trail running seemed to help me --after the usual adjustment issues over the first 500 meters, I begin to overtake the other participants, and at around 3k I manage to even overtake Stan.  At this point I realize I have a shot of catching the A team's lead triathlete - the legendary Chad who I see on the turnaround, his face contorted with pain.

So I am inspired to accelerate over much of the last 2k, particularly the trail leading to beach where I manage to sprint past Chad (pictured)  in a brief, competitive burst (though I after this effort I am spent and content to follow Chad through a final confusing and exhausting chute that takes us through the agonizingly heavy sand to the handoff).

I am surprised to have done as well as I did (it is difficult to compare triathlon times across different courses, but I placed ahead of teammates who have been faster than me in previous triathlons).  I was convinced that the shorter sprint distance would put me at a disadvantage, especially given that I only seem to swim at one speed as I note above, my cycling background is on long slow cross-country treks rather than short fast time trials, and my transitions tend to be rather languid, which would weigh more heavily on a short course.  But in fact on this day I perform much better than all my weak Olympic distance efforts in 2012, let alone my humiliating debacle at last year's Taiwan Half-Ironman (which I had thought was "my distance").

It is all great fun.  And my D team manages to finish 103rd overall.

Lord Hill 10k Trail Race

After struggling against that challenging Seattle area competition in the Silver Lake 2-Mile Swim and Meet of the Miles Picnic (see below), I decide to find a small, local running race to assuage my ego.  I spot a Half-Marathon and 10k trail race at the nearby Lord Hill Regional Park.  After a bit of pondering I choose the 10k, figuring a half-marathon is a bit far in my new trail shoes and on my 50-kilometers per week of training (and the half-marathon costs $10 more).  

Both distances start together and for the first 4k I find myself in a pack of four guys with a college kid out ahead of us..  The new trail shoes feel great - I run the steep rocky downhill sections much more aggressively - lifting my elbows and leaning forward.  Still I find myself laboring on the up-hills, and stressing at the thought that to be competitive I really need to get around the 4 guys when the trail widens and go after the college kid.  

  

Then, to my amazement, at the 4k mark every other runner around me splits off to do the half-marathon.  I am totally and completely alone in first place.  If I was in a more competitive mood I would have been disappointed (or perhaps even ignored my event registration decision and gone after the other 5 runners).  But at this moment I was just delighted.  I felt burst of energy and surged along a mostly smooth flat stretch of trail to an aid station turn-around at 6k.  On this short out-and-back I could see I had a good 2-minute lead over second place.  When I begin to tire on some brutal roller coaster terrain over the last third of the course I repeatedly twist my head to see if there is anyone closing in on me.  I don't see any one and think "Oh good, I can slow down - who cares about my time as long as I win".

I win the race by 3 minutes.  I cover the hilly trail course in 45:20.  I even win some nice Rudy Project sunglasses.

The top half-marathon guys come in around 1:45.  I try to talk to them and ask them how their races played out.  But they see me with all my prizes and glory and adoring fans and they walk away, their faces contorted with scorn, contempt, and jealousy.   It is somewhat understandable that they look down on us pedestrian runners who only completed 10 kilometers.  As for me, I find myself extrapolating my 10k pace and wondering how I would have finished if I had run the half-marathon.  

Meet of the Miles Picnic

Seattle's Club Northwest summer picnic is combined with the "Meet of the Miles" a Sunday afternoon set of mile races on the West Seattle track.  I intend to go to the picnic, so  naturally I am game to jump in a mile race.  Who cares that I have not done much mile specific training?  I figure the 12 x 400 meter intervals I did a month ago might help.  And at the Club Northwest track workout on the previous  Wednesday we ran 4 x1600 on a 3-minute rest cycle.  I managed to run the last 1600 in a 5:20, providing me with a modicum of confidence going into the picnic run.  I figure a picnic event should be pretty casual anyway - three-legged races, tug-of-war, water balloon tosses...   But Club Northwest is all business.  Even the "Milk Mile" (drink 12-ounces of milk then race 400 meters x 4) is a remarkably determined affair - especially in contrast to the revelrous beer mile I participated in (see below). 

The small group of grimly determined runners in my masters (40 years old+) mile heat burst out at 70-second per lap (4:40) pace, and it is all I can do to not follow them.  I knew I had to go out easy…  Still I hit 400 meters in 76 seconds and after that I find myself slogging out the remaining 3 laps at 80 second pace with no one even close to me (the pack finishes 30 seconds ahead, and another group maybe 30 seconds behind me.  

The 5:16 effort seems like an awful lot of pain - just to shave 4 seconds off the interval I clocked 4 days earlier.  I wonder if I could run much faster at this distance - how much short-distance specific training would help.  If drafting and having more people around me would help. Or would warming up more like in the workout help?  Or perhaps it is just an age thing.   It used to be easier for me to run a 5 minute mile, and any halfway decent junior high kid runs a 5:16.  But still I tend to reject the general mindset that there should be some tight correlation between one's age and the run distance one must race at.  

Silver Lake 2-mile Swim

I thought I might finish near last place as I drove to last weekend's Silver Lake Swim.  At that point finishing last did not really concern me - it was a sunny morning, and this swim event served as a good workout and a fine opportunity to work on open water swim technique.    But upon arriving at the lake my expectations start to change. 

I don't mean to sound arrogant or disrespectful, but the athletes that surrounded me at the starting line of the Swim did not look particularly, well, athletic.  I have grown accustomed to events like the Frankfurt Ironman and staring up at strapping, muscular German young men with their focused game faces as they determinedly rack their $10,000 bikes, drink their complex energy drinks and talk intensely about their 20+ hour per week training regimes. 

I arrive at Silver Lake and find myself chatting with a neighborly, silver haired woman in front of me in the event registration line who talks to me at length about her grandchildren's summer camp.   I look around and at least two-thirds of the field I would characterize as being above an optimal weight.  I start to think that I should be pretty competitive. 

Yet when the gun went off almost all of these other athletes burst out ahead of me, and even as I tell myself to surge toward the first buoy I find the rest of the crowd pulling further and further ahead. 

My first mile was a disappointing 33+ minutes.  The second mile loop did not seem much faster as I zig-zagged around the buoys, the swimmer ahead of me far in the distance.  But somehow, (as is always the case in my swims), I seemed to settle into a rhythm and speed up -- I was just over 30 minutes for the second mile.  My goal for the day had been to break an hour, so at least I was on pace during the second half.  I just somehow need to improve my starting speed and my sighting. 

Oh and I didn't finish last.  A couple other swimmers straggled in behind me.  But I didn't see the grandmother at the finish - she must have been well ahead of me. 

Training Summary - June 30, 2013

I had grand ambitions.  At the outset of 2013 I planned to increase my running mileage beyond the feeble 40-kilometer (25 mile) per week average - the level I had been mired in for the past few years. 

But for various and sundry reasons I have not been able to sustain higher workout load without my legs protesting, as you can see in this 12-month mileage chart --

Meanwhile my "cross-training"  (I can hardly say "triathlon training" since I never actually compete in any triathlons) has averaged around 8 hours per week.  8 hours is also pretty feeble by triathlete standards, but then most triathletes derive many of their weekly training hours on the long, time-consuming cycling workouts.  Since I have yet to do a cycling workout outside this year except for during a week in May in Seattle (see below) all of my hours are swims, runs and turbo-training sessions so it is a reasonably quality effort I think.  Here is 6 month chart extracted from Triathlog

5k on track

I looked forward to the energy of the annual Spring 5,000 on the track -- 100 or so runners together in the 17:00 minute to 18:30 anticipated-time heat.  Last year I felt like I was carried along by the pack to a comfortable 17:52 (even after running an 18:45, ten minutes earlier in the previous heat).

This year I run too fast in the first 400 meters and struggle - much of it by myself -- as you can see here --->

Result is a disappointing 17:57.

Pivot to Rock Climbing

My bicycle has sat inside a bike bag on my front porch since last October, unused other than during November's Laguna Phuket Triathlon.

I decided I wanted to try new things.  

And so I pivot to rock climbing

Jinquaio 8k, Shanghai

I traveled to Shanghai last week to join Namban teammate Charles Bergere in the Jinquaio 8k.  According to Chuck,  Jinquaio 8k is one of Shanghai's Big Two Run Events (along with the Shanghai Marathon). Jinquiao is an expat enclave in the newer Pudong area of Shanghai.  I feel a bit like I am in Orange County, California -- spacious McMansion-style stucco homes with red tile roofs, strip malls with smoothie shops and pilates studios,  blonde children along the course shouting "good job".  It feels like Tokyo's TELL race, yet even more expat oriented.

Chuck lives 2 kilometers from the race start, so jogging to the starting line makes for a pleasant warmup.  Getting to the front of the starting line is more challenging though - everyone, no matter their anticipated 8k pace, seems to be trying to cram to the front line.  I loop around the block, do some strides and then, with only 3 minutes until the starting gun, I dodge race officials and sprint back up and under the startling line rope.  There I join a group of boisterous, costumed Australians and a blond, grade school boy in a Superman outfit.  I am worried for the boy.  I can just sense the pent-up energy of the 2,000 inexperienced runners and school-kids packed into the narrow road behind us ready to blow out like a champagne cork.

Sure enough, when the gun goes off it is like some frenzied herd of crazed antelope dashing for their lives out of the gates of hell.  I am sprinting for my survival at my all-out, 400-meter pace.  I glance back and am relieved to see super boy is still on his feet, but then to my left a teenage kid goes down. I assume he is trampled by the stampeding herd, but there is nothing I can do to help him at this point.  I make it around the first corner, the crowd of runners around me begins to thin out and the pace begins to settle down. 

At about the 1-kilometer mark I settle in behind a tall American guy (Ben). I always like to race at an even pace, or even negative splits if I can -- this pacing makes the race so much more enjoyable.  The crazed, high speed start at Jinquaio means I am laboring at 1k and for the remaining, painful 7 kilometers of running I will simply try to hang on.

Also within the first kilometer I get an extremely dry, “cotton-mouth” feeling in my throat and felt it necessary to drink at every aid station – something I would never do in an 8k distance race. Was this because of the fast start? The surprisingly warm spring day?  Or because of the Chinese Airpocalypse?

I was worried about the "Airpocalypse" a dark grey miasma of coal-fired haze that has strangled China in recent months, but the air quality reading on Sunday morning was a relatively low 125.  Some of the Shanghai based runners told me how they had struggled to train this past winter with so many days over 200.

 I was coming off a week of high altitude training in Yunnan Province, which perhaps helped me survive the airpocalypse and hang on to Ben, and to ultimately finish 6^th place overall in a time of 29:57.   The top 10 male and female runners were showered with prizes and accolades at the festive post-race carnival.

Hiro 5k

Two weeks ago I had mentioned to teammate Hiro that hitting a 17:30 was my reach goal for the monthly 5k time trial.  Having not raced at all, or really trained well this year, I was keen to make a strong effort for this time trial.

I was not expecting Hiro to pay any attention to my fantasy musings, but to my surprise he immediately decided to pace me to a 17:30, and on Wednesday Hiro arrived at the track determined to maintain this pace on my behalf.  Oh no, I thought, all this obligation and pressure for such a fast time.  Well, I better do my best. 

So when the 5k started I I immediately tucked in behind Hiro and just hoped to hang on as long as I could.  Of course the first 1000 meters was easy enough, even though we were slightly ahead of pace.  But when we reached 2k at 7:00 flat, right on pace, and I was already starting to labor, I doubted I could hang on the pace much longer.  Just stay with Hiro to halfway, I told myself.  At halfway I told  myself I to hang on until 3k - that would be a respectable effort.  At 3k I told myself to just stay in moment and think about my form.  I hung on until 4k, at which point I had slowed to a 14:03 split, and a gap begun to open up between us.  Speeding up and breaking 17:30 seemed hopeless.  Hiro turned around to exhort me to catch up with him and the goal pace.  I gasped at him to go for it, in hopes he would finish at his own pace (and leave me alone), but he continued looking back at me so I dug down and sprinted back up behind him.  We now only had 800 meters left, and Hiro kept telling me we could do 17:30.  I doubted this right up until the final 200 when I somehow was able to kick to the finish ini 37 seconds and hit 17:26.  Thanks to Hiro.

Here are the splits Hiro recorded:

400m:   1'23"00(1'23"00)

800m:   2'45"60(1'22"60)

1,200m: 4'10"36(1'24"76)

1,600m: 5'35"52(1'25"16)

2,000m: 7'00"66(1'25"14)

2,400m: 8'23"41(1'22"75)

2,800m: 9'46"30(1'22"89)

3,200m:11'10"80(1'24"50)

3'600m:12'37"71(1'26"91)

4,400m:15'26"16(2'48"45)

5,000m:17'26"79(2'00"63)

Caveman Diet for Runners

My unhealthy breakfast (on left). Healthy caveman breakfast (right)

A remarkable number of my teammates have adopted the "caveman (Paleo) diet" in recent months, touting its fat utilization benefits for endurance events.  The idea is that you teach the body to use fat by adopting a high fat diet, and then during a race you rely less on carbohydrates. Reducing the body's reliance on carbohydrate stores will delay fatigue.  The other piece of this, which you are probably familiar with, is the argument that humans existed as hunter gatherers much longer than as farmers and we are more genetically adapted to the diets consumed during the paleolithic era.

So I am lectured about my high carbohydrate meals. My Paleo teammates criticized my choice of breakfast: “How can you eat that unhealthy, sugary, high carbohydrate breakfast of muesli, fruit and yogurt!  You should be eating bacon and sausage."

Really?

Granted the caveman diet does not seem totally unreasonable to me in general -- eating less processed food would be an improvement on all the breakfast cereal and sports bars I eat. Plus eating less calories is good for anyone, even me, a person not at all concerned about their weight.

But seriously, eating bacon (lots of bacon at that) is more healthy than eating fruit?

And eating this enormous quantity of bacon and sausages at a single meal is justified by the argument that cavemen would have gorged on a wild pig or woolly mammoth after hunting and killing it, implying that this is a natural and healthy pattern of eating?

Above is a shot of my teammate's caveman breakfast consisting of an order of bacon plus an order of sausage (one of several)  vs. my "less healthy" fruit/muesli breakfast.

Chiang Mai Half-Marathon

I return to defend my title in the Chiang Mai half marathon.  In 2011, I finished first overall in 1:22:00 on a 22k course.

I feel I am in about the same condition as a year ago, so a repeat victory would depend on what caliber of field materialized on race morning.  Sure enough, it took only minutes for a dozen guys to burst out ahead of me.  Within a kilometer the flashing lights of the lead pace car were far in the distance.  I run with teammate Arnaud and young Bangladeshi, Omar, and we overtake 7 of the guys by the 3k mark running 4-minute per kilometer pace.  At that point I decide to take a shot at the leaders - on the remote hope that they might fade.  I pick up the pace to around 3:50 and do manage to catch a couple other young guys, but at the halfway turnaround I see the 2 leaders are still light years ahead of me.  I manage to hang on for 3rd overall and 1st in 40-49 age group, in a time of 1:28:11 (for 22.6k course).

Here is Arnaud and I with trophies for 1st and 2nd in age group:


The Chiang Mai event is great fun and one I would recommend despite the organizer's continued indifference about the precise course measurement (an issue we bring up with the race director after the race, telling him that an accurately measured race would draw runners from all over South-East Asia seeking a PB in the cool weather on a flat course).  




This year the half marathon was primarily an excuse for low-budget backpack journey to Mae Hong Son for trekking (last year the race was an excuse to travel to Laos).  Very low budget as you can see from adjacent picture of our accommodations.



Also the trek is fine triathlon cross-training as you can see in this picture of me swimming in the waterfall near the Burmese border

Laguna Phuket Triathlon

I think it was the mango I received in my breakfast box that did it.  After waking up hungry and eating a few slices at 2am I felt queasy, and by 4am I was heaving into the hotel toilet.  When I threw up again at 5am I was doubting I could even walk to the starting line (let alone race).  But right around this time my mates, Jenny and Chris knocked on my room asking if I was ready to go and I felt for the moment that I had purged my system and was getting stronger.

However by the time we gathered on the beach for the swim start an hour later I felt nauseous and rushed into the bushes to throw up yet again and then used the toilets.  Again I felt slightly better afterwards.  I was debating in my mind whether to start the race.  Common sense suggested I go lie down and rest.  But I had come so far and the warm, clear Andaman Sea looked so beautiful and inviting at sunrise - perhaps I could just do the ocean half of the swim segment then drop out?  I was still undecided as my wave gathered for the start and I was surprised and unready when the gun went off.  I stood there frozen for the longest time trying to assess my condition to swim (throwing up in the water would be gross and disgusting and unpleasant, but drowning seemed improbable).  Suddenly the crowd of hundreds of supporters lining the beach-start noticed me standing there alone, the other 200 guys in my wave having already sprinted into the sea.  I must have looked like such a sad and pathetic figure—pale, shivering with cold, staring anxiously at the ocean—and I am sure they all presumed it was my first triathlon and I was absolutely paralyzed with fear and scared to death to enter the open water.  The spectators next to me erupted with shouting, trying to exhort me on: "you can do it!" "c'mon, it will be OK, you will make it".

In fact when I did then reluctantly trudge into the ocean and start swimming I felt better—somehow being vertical rather than horizontal seemed to help, the tropical water warmed me up, and my swim pace was so slow I was not exerting much effort (especially after catching a big slow guy who I drafted behind).  When the later wave in red swim caps started passing us I picked up the pace slightly, and decided to swim the lagoon swim section, but felt weak again during T1.  Again I tortured over whether to drop out or do some of the bike course.  I knew the first section of course would take us through spectacular scenery and I kept thinking about how I had dragged my damn bike on such a long, circuitous journey.  So after a languid 6 minute transition, I biked off after the stragglers.
A diligent bike marshal seemed to be constantly riding alongside me.  I found this terribly odd - 'who cares if people this far in the back of the pack are drafting?' I kept thinking, having already mentally dropped out of any "race" and still fully intending to DNF.

I have placed a high value on maintaining adequate nutrition/fueling before and during endurance events of this distance.  I am convinced that in previous events I bonked - failing to eat enough. Yet it is difficult to imagine I could have much less in my system than at this point on Sunday.  After throwing up 5 times and the several bouts of diarrhea, I must have been running completely on empty.  I did manage to ingest a single Espresso Love gel (of all things) on the bike.  I guess the gel helped.

Upon finishing the bike I decided I would jog/walk part of the run.  I ended up running all of the 12k run course in 57 minutes, which surprisingly was the 79th fastest run split on the day.

At the finish line, a friend rushed up to congratulate me and talk.  "Thanks.  I am going to be sick"  I replied.  I staggered away, desperately looking for a quiet out of the way spot.  But it was too late, my stomach was already convulsing and I could not wait.  The next thing in my path was a white tent.  Which turned out to be the medical tent.

Needless to say, throwing up on the medical tent is a good way to generate a great deal of immediate and concerned attention. An absolute army of staff descended upon me.  Doctors and nurses and people with stretchers and people with various medical apparatus. "Um, it was just a bit of bad fruit" I kept telling them.  But all the young Thai nurses were lovely.  And it was nice to get an IV - my appetite is only now really coming back as I write this two days later. One of the doctors suggested to me that generally in the future if one vomits so many times he would probably not recommend immediately doing a triathlon.

For what it is worth, my time was 3:47:10, placing me roughly in middle of pack.