a post long over due

I guess it would be a bit of an understatement to say that it's been awhile since I last posted anything. I was new to the whole blogging thing when I started writing here, and for a time I was really loving it. Life, however, has a tendency of sneaking up on you, and time plows forward whether you're ready or not. Between work, and trying to flip a house, and a million other things here and there, this little blog just sort of fell by the wayside. I unfortunately can't say for certain that it won't happen again, but at the very least, I can give you an update on what's been going on since my last post.

I had a few running goals for the year, and so far I've been cruising along quite nicely with all of them. I've managed to maintain a paper log for all of my runs and workouts, I'm already 75% of the way towards reaching 500 miles for the year, and I've kept up with the run streak that I started on Thanksgiving. At 230 days of running at least one mile every day, I've blown way past the 50 day mark at which I said I would reassess whether or not I was going to continue.

In other news, I ran the Peachtree Road Race this year for the first time, and posted a new 10K PR, besting my previous record by just over 3 minutes. With almost 60,000 participants each year, the Peachtree is the largest race in the country, and it is absolutely amazing in every way. The overwhelming number of enthusiastic spectators and bands along the course is incredibly motivating, and it is an indescribable spectacle to race with so many other runners. If you haven't ever run the Peachtree, definitely put it on your list of most do destination races. Not only is it an incredible race, but it occurs right in the heart of Atlanta, a place I've really come to appreciate as a truly great American city. Between having the opportunity to check out a Braves game or visit the World of Coca-Cola, it's hard to imagine a better, more classically American place to celebrate the Fourth of July.

Finally, Jinny, the little rescue dog who my wife and I picked up at the beginning of the year, has blossomed into an amazing running companion. She'll accompany me on any run shorter than three miles, and she's ready and waiting at the door before I even get my shoes on. Sure I might almost trip while trying to get my speed work in every once in awhile when she lounges for a squirrel, but really she's all that one could ever hope for in a dog. I couldn't have asked for a better first pet, and my wife and I are just so glad that she came into our lives.

So as you can see, a few things have happened here and there over the past few months, but in a lot of ways it's just the same old, same old. I'll try my best to stay consistent in posting though, and hopefully I'll start getting caught up on writing some reviews for the books I've finished.

a race at year's end

With my yearly reflection already written, it seemed that the year was quietly drawing to a close, but when I got an email about the inaugural running of the Snowflake 5K near my hometown, I obviously needed to sign up. I've always wanted to participate in the first running of a race, and to then have the opportunity to run in every one thereafter; I figured this could be my chance.

I only had about two weeks between signing up and toeing the line at this morning's race, but as a participant of the Runner's World Holiday Streak who had just come off a strong turkey trot finish, I wasn't really too worried. The out-and-back course had a downhill first half and an uphill second half, but I figured at such a short distance you might as well go for broke and really push yourself.

Already breathing heavy by the time I passed the first mile marker, I knew the pace I had set would be unsustainable for any distance longer than the one I was doing, and I questioned if I'd even make it that far without having to walk. When I reached the turn around point it was like hitting a wall; I had grown so accustomed to the ease of running downhill that the sudden change nearly brought me to a halt. I reminded myself that the race was already half over though, and dug deep to attack the incline. As I approached the final stretch, the ground began to level out, allowing me to charge forward. I began to sprint towards the finish, reeling in runners and passing them by. I ended up crossing the finish line in 27:34, easily my fastest run in a good, long while.

I had never run a 5K before, but I really enjoyed racing the shorter distance. It was perfect for going hard and gauging one's cardiovascular fitness. I'll definitely be signing up again, and maybe ten years from now I'll be one of those people getting a little recognition for streaking a race.

a streak happily broken

With the Runner's World Holiday Run Streak currently underway, runners all across the country are making the pledge to run at least one mile every day between Thanksgiving and New Year's; I myself am among those attempting the 35 day challenge. I've gone on a streak a few times in my running career, and every time I've done one, whether long or short, I've always found it exciting to feel the tensions mount as the desire to not break the streak grows stronger with each passing day. Despite the benefits and the fun challenge that a running streak can provide though, there is one streak that I was very happy to break at this year's turkey trot on Thanksgiving morning.

As I mentioned before, I have run the same turkey trot around Rockland Lake near my hometown in New York for the past six years, and due to some combination of failing to properly train and requiring more effort to experience fitness gains these days, my finishing time has gotten slower each year. I knew that I was better prepared for the distance than I had been in the past few years though, but I had been running my training runs slowly and I wasn't feeling very confident in being able to post a faster time. I was fully prepared to just cruise through the race and celebrate the fact that I would be able to complete the distance without injuring myself, but as my friend and I were standing at the starting line, I told him about the downward trend in our times and he became committed to ending the streak right then and there.

We ran the first mile fairly slowly to warm up, but from there, my overly determined running buddy began pulling me along and steadily increasing the pace. We were running each mile faster than the one before it, and by the final mile I was really struggling to keep up. The pace was becoming more and more unsustainable, and just when I wanted to slow down most, we rounded the corner into the final stretch. The seconds on the clock ticked by, but I knew if I just held on a little bit longer the streak would be broken.

We ended up completing the 5 mile course and triumphantly crossing the finish line in 48:11, just about three minutes faster than our time from the previous year. With the streak of slower finishes finally meeting its demise, it seems only logical that the goal be to flip the trend. I'm sure a streak in which I get faster each year won't last nearly as long as the one where I got slower, but here's to a faster trot in 2014.

a review of my running history

I began running almost six years ago during my sophomore year of college to combat some of the characteristic weight gain that had occurred during my freshman year. I started out fairly slowly, never having been particularly active in organized sports, but gains came quickly and I soon became a bit too enthusiastic and overzealous in my running pursuits. By the end of my sophomore year, I was running distances far beyond my actual capabilities and I had just one goal on my mind: running a marathon.

With my sights set on the legendary distance I dove into a vicious cycle of training to the point of injury and then failing to achieve my goal. For the next two years I would aim for a marathon in the relatively distant future, and then one of two things would happen: I would either injure myself almost immediately and end up not signing up for the race at all, or I would injure myself in the later stages of training and resolve myself to dropping down to the accompanying half marathon.

It wasn't until my senior year of college that I finally succeeded in completing a marathon, but doing so came at great cost to my ability to run afterwards. I knew that I needed to raise the stakes to ensure actually making it to the starting line this time around, so my best friend and I signed up for the Walt Disney World Marathon in 2010, hoping that the financial investment of the trip would serve as a motivating force to get me through a complete training cycle. The plan had one major flaw though, and that was the fact that while I was definitely motivated, and in fact somewhat obligated after having arranged travel and accommodations, I wasn't any more likely to actually complete my training without injury than if I had just chosen another local race. As had become the expected pattern, I quickly found myself injured and unable to run more than a handful of miles between weeks of inactivity. Within the two months leading up to the marathon I literally hadn't run anything over eight miles, and if I call correctly, I had only managed that feat once.

As I chatted with those around me awaiting the start, the full weight of how grossly underprepared I was began to hit me. There I was, not having even broken double digits on a single run in the past couple of months, listening to people describe their anxieties over whether or not their twenty mile training runs would be enough to carry them through the race; needless to say it did nothing to bolster my confidence. Moreover, as if that hadn't been enough, Florida was experiencing record low temperatures all across the state, and I, thinking I was going to be taking a break from the frigid temperatures of January in New York, hadn't packed anything but shorts to run the race in. You know things aren't going well when you see volunteers pouring Gatorade powder on the ground at the aid stations to keep the spilled water from freezing.

Nevertheless, despite all of the odds stacked up against me, I managed to run the first 18 miles, and then somehow completed the rest of the course by alternating between some combination of running, walking, and limping to the end. The whole ordeal left me completely hobbled and nearly broken, but wanting to get the most out of my stay in Disney World, I popped Tylenol for the next week to mask the pain as I limped around the parks. When all was said and done, iliotibial band syndrome, otherwise known as ITBS, had become a permanent fixture in my life that plagued me consistently for the next few years.

At it's worst, I could barely run more than a half mile without being forced to come to a stop and then having to take a week or more off until I was able to try again. Surprisingly though, I still had a strong desire to run, so I began systematically trying everything that even had a chance of alleviating my ailment. Stretching, hip strengthening, and foam rolling all became staples of my routine, but nothing seemed to completely absolve the problem. It got to the point where there was just one thing left to try, and despite my reservations and my complete lack of faith in its purported healing powers, I took the leap into the world of barefoot and minimalist running this past summer.

Not wanting to risk making things worse than they already were, I followed all of the usual advice that gets tossed around when making the transition to ditching the shoes: I started out slowly in terms of both speed and distance, I worked on increasing my stride cadence, and I began concentrating more on my form and foot falls. I was extremely skeptical when I first started out, but I have to admit, things seemed to start falling into place as soon as I kicked off the shoes. Now I can comfortably run a couple of miles at a time, and while I still get twinges in my IT bands every now and again, it's certainly not the debilitating, sidelining injury it once was; for the time being I can be happy with that.