These writings will change as often as I want to capture some thoughts, offer words of encouragement, opinions, or motivation regarding running.  Anything is game since, on a run, any mind-bending thoughts are game.  Enjoy!

January 1, 2005

Success in running is not always about time and distance.  There could be many things, sometimes small things,  during a run or race that stay with you as a success.  On January 1, since 1994, I have run the Hamilton Hangover, a scheduled 5 mile run on New Year's day that always gets the new year started in the best of ways - running and racing.  This race has been run in all kinds of weather and due to that weather, at different distances.  It has been run at the scheduled 5 miles, 5K and in one icey snowy year, 3 miles.  In 2005, the weather did not disappoint unless you hate running in 62 degrees filled with sunshine in the middle of winter in New Jersey.  Surely it was a shorts and singlet kind of day!

Getting to the little successes...   I went into this race to get a good 5 mile tempo run in at around 7:30 pace as I prepare for the Las Vegas Marathon.  I finished with a 7:25 pace and felt comfortable throughout.  However, what stood out was the finsh and the last mile or so.  One way I measure success in a race is how many people pass me in the last mile or so depending on the distance.  In this case, the last person to pass me was about 1 1/2 miles out.  In some cases, you can also measure a little success by how many people you pass.  The "little success" that stood out most in this race was in the last 200 meters.  I nearly sprinted (well, as fast as a 44 year old can sprint after running 4.9 miles) but I knew people were close and I wanted to hang in there through the finish.  I ran as hard and fast as I could finhsing just in front of 3 others.  When I looked at the results, I realized that they were all teenagers in their late teens - 18, 19.  To me, this was the "litte success" that stayed with me.  It wasn't my finishing position per ser...it wasn't my time...  It was that I finished hard and strong beating others 25 years younger than I.  Sounds competitive?  Maybe, but no matter where we fall in the pack, isn't that what racing is all about and looking for these little successes!?

December 27, 2004

It was the first snowfall of the year - a two inch dusting that left the grass in its winter blanket of white.  As a runner, I always look forward to the first snowfall.  When some people venture inside to the warmth of their gym and the grounded footing the treadmill, I take this opportunity to visit nature.  Above all else, the beauty of the snow is found in sound.  The first thing I notice is the quiet.  The snow seems to insulate like a blanket.  In an odd way, this insulation almost makes it feel warmer outside.  You could never tell that by the way I was dressed but with the temperature the same, I did feel warmer today than yesterday when there was no snow on the ground. 

In the fall, when I think of the the upcoming winter season and the potential, hopeful potential, of running in the snow, one thing stands out, the sound of the ice crystals crunching under each footstrike.  It is the rythm of winter running.  The sound reminds me of an old squeaking floor that gives just the right amount - like running on a soft surface.  I thought about the rythm of other surfaces.  Each footstrike is like the beat of a song, sometimes acompanied by a melody, sometimes not.

Concrete, Asphalt and Macadam all have a different rythm.  Concrete provides a slapping noise, a hard surface that doesn't give, it is almost rebellious against each footstrike.  Asphalt is like a dance surface, soft-shoe if you will, small granules that pry themselves loose with each step.  Macadam is pure and smooth, each footstrike as consistent as the next.  Of course, the treadmill provides a thumping noise, almost like a bass drum. 

Trails are the most melodic.  Each footstrike may fall onto something diiferent - rustling leaves, packed dirt, gravel, rocks and pebbles, branches and twigs, and the occasional slosh of water.  The footstrikes of a trail tell a story or sing a song.  It is up to the runner to provide the lyrics.

The next time you run, write your own song, novel or short story.  Let your footstrike and surface provide the rythm.

I understand that runners all over the world run in extreme temperatures.  Runners in Alaska, Canada, Minnesota, and the Dakotas all are trouncing around in wind chills below zero.  However, in NJ, temperatures in the single digits and wind chills below zero happen only a few times a year.  This past weekend was one of them.  My normal weekend running regimen consists of getting up, feeding the cats, making the coffee, reading the newspaper and heading out for the perfect, relaxed, mid to long run.  The weekend brings both the time and relaxed mental attitude to enjoy some easily paced longer runs.

When I looked on the thermometer on Saturday, it read -3 degrees and the forecasters were not predicting much of anything warmer except maybe into the positive digits.  I had already pounded down 25 miles for the week and wanted to get at least another 15 or more miles in on the weekend.  The beauty of running outside is in the interaction with the elements.  I look forward to the first snow when the crunch under my feet ensures me that the precipitation was crystallized when it fell. Running with the elements not only prepares you for races in the extremes, since they are seldom cancelled due to weather, but it allows you to experience some of running's intimate pleasures.  The sensory experiences in running cannot be missed.  Running in 0 degree weather is one of them.  The formation of ice crystals on your eyelashes, the smell of the crisp, clean air, the sounds of silence since anyone in their right mind is still home under the covers or at the very least Canadian geese thinking and squawking that their journey was not far enough south.

Always remembering that the body generates 20 degrees more heat than the outside temperature, it still would not get me to the freezing point.  Knowing that layers is the best way to dress, I layered with light wicking garments to get the moisture away from my body mostly hoping that I would not come back looking like the abominable snowman.  Two layers of pants including tights and nylon outerwear; 4 layers of shirts starting with a light coolmax t-shirt, a long sleeve dolfin compressed shirt, light sugoi overshirt and a nylon jacket adorned my body.  One saving grace was the balaclava that I bought the day before.  Only my eyes were exposed, hence the ice crystals on my eyelashes but it kept my face, nose, forehead and lips from being exposed.  It was a bit hard breathing at first through the material but on Sunday, I adapted to it.  I wore another hat on top of that along with fleece gloves.  Truly, except for a slightly slower pace, my body thought it was in Miami!  Sunday it was warmer with the temperature getting to a balmy 4 degrees so I ran longer for a nicely paced, slow 12 miler.

Why run you might ask if the layers of clothes, the slower pace, and the slightly more sore muscles and knees diminish the enjoyment?  Simply, it is the experience of the run, the essence of the sport communing with nature and the elements.  The enjoyment is not diminished.  The enjoyment is just different.  It is also doing something hard that makes your other experiences easier. 

Make sure you have the proper gear but the next time it rains, it snows, its windy, its below freezing, the humidity is 90 percent or whatever extreme condition you encounter, embrace it.  Seldom, as in life, are the conditions perfect!

Someone once said that if they were not out there training, that the runners who would finish in front of them in a race were there training.  It served as motivation to make that transition from rest to movement and taking that first step out the door on days when the body would rather stay at rest.  It is not more evident after a light snow that someone trounced through the snow before you.  On the craziest of days of cold, snow, ice, slush, and rain when you think that you are the only crazy runner outside in the mess and when every driver who drives by with their heated front seats blasting thinks you are crazy, you then stride upon other footprints.

It just so happened that these footprints were running the same hills in the same weather conditions that I was.  I followed them quite a while, while following my training route.  Only when I hit pavement did they disappear.  Since I had run the same route the day before, I began to wonder if they were my footprints from the previous day.  Although they were fresh, they could well be mine.  I noticed the stride length and the image of the foot in the snow.  I kept trying to turn myself around as I was running to see if they were mine.  Of course, when you do this, your stride and your normal foot-strike completely change.  So, I don't know if they were mine or if it was a runner who made it out into the cold before me that morning.  No matter which one it was, my training efforts that morning were either the same as the runner before me or I have bettered myself by a second day of training on the same route.

 Can we possibly be in this state?  Can we be connected while we are disconnected?  The beauty of running is that it allows both in the best of ways.  While running on a long stretch of road on a cold winter day, hearing virtually nothing but seeing everything, I realized how connected I was with the natural world.  Mother nature was giving me another day to enjoy on the road.  I realized that not only was I connected with nature, the naked trees, the frozen snow and ice, the honking geese looking for a place to ground themselves where the snow didn't blanket the ground, the brisk wind in my face, the sun making me squint but I was also connected with myself.  With each stride, my heart beats in control, my breathing has a rhythm, my foot lightly touches the pavement, my mind is relaxed and I glide through the cold breeze exposing only my cheeks, eyes and nose.  This connectedness with nature and ourselves is the essence of running and it lasts as long as we allow our mind and body to enjoy the experience.

So what are we disconnected from?  In today's world where we are always "plugged in" to something and have made ourselves nearly accessible anywhere we are, it is a welcome relief to get away from it all.  When running, there is no email, no cell phone connected to our ears, no television blaring the junkets and travesties of the day, and if you are a true runner who loves the connectedness of world, no music thumping our eardrums.  You cannot explore the simplicity and soundness of nature and of your mind and body connected to any of these things.  Running allows us to get away from it all.  It allows us to hear the birds chirp, the deer rustle in the woods, the wind whistle through the groves of seedlings, the patter of our feet hitting the ground, our heart beating louder while climbing a monstrous hill.  Sometimes, being disconnected as we run saves us from the speeding car and the attacking dog. 

Running returns us to simplicity in this world of complexities.  Take advantage of it and listen and see everything around you the next time you are out pounding the pavement or galloping the trail. You can only experience these things while you are connected in a disconnected state.