Might have to increase my shoe budget

Taking a look at my dailymile training log I discovered I put in 198 miles in October. Lots of miles to be sure, but why didn’t I put in just two more? If I would have turned a six-miler into a seven mile stretch and an eight into a nine-miler, then I’d be looking at 200 miles–a nice round number. I guess I’ll have to work a little bit harder in November.

September and October’s mileage also indicates I’ve gone all-in with my new marathon training strategy. Up until now I’ve relied on a marathon training schedule which had me running a moderate amount of mileage mid-week, followed by low mileage Saturdays, and long mileage Sundays. I still believe it’s a great training schedule, and I may follow it again in the future, but in the weeks following the San Francisco Marathon I was looking to shake up my routine. For one thing, I no longer wanted to follow a rigid schedule leading up to my next marathon. And secondly, I wanted to train in a way that would help me come to think running long distances was completely natural. I still follow the Monday-Wednesday; Saturday-Sunday framework of my former training schedule, but I don’t have a set distance to run on any of those days. Instead, I’ve taken to running longer distances on each of those days which adds up to more mileage overall each week. So, whereas Monday through Wednesday used to follow a 6, 8, and 6 mile rhythm, now I might run a 10, 10, 12 set or 12, 12, 8.

More importantly, I’m trying this new regimen while being mindful of injuries. I do have a little hip soreness which acts as a natural throttle to keep my pace slow at the beginning of any run, but it passes as soon as I’m warmed up and doesn’t return until I start my next run.

So far I believe this mileage build-up is working for me. My pace may have slowed a bit, but I am so far routinely able to run longer distances and feel fresh and recovered shortly after finishing. I’ve got one fantastic 20-miler under my belt this training cycle, and I’ll get one more in before December’s California International Marathon in December. Check out my race report after that run to find out whether I bonked hard at mile 17 or if I’m still happy with this long distance training philosophy.

The money shot

flickr image by ace10414

Take a moment and cast your mind back to 1978. Jimmy Carter is in the White House; you can’t get away from the song Evergreen if you turn on the radio;  Annie Hall has just won the Best Picture Oscar and suddenly women are wearing ties. Exciting times to be sure, and it was during this heady summer I turned twelve years old. Today kids this age are called tweens, and cell phone companies and clothing stores fall all over themselves in an attempt to market to these fickle consumers. But during the post-oil shock late seventies marketers and demographers left our age cohort alone. We were too old for train sets and Tinkertoys and too young for cars. And with no real money in our pockets, why would anyone bother trying to sell anything to us? It was in that desire vacuum I found myself that summer, and, it’s probably the reason I asked for the birthday gift I eventually received.

A United States savings bond.

When it came time to ask for a little something for my 12th birthday, I didn’t ask for a baseball glove, an electric football set, or even a new bicycle. Instead I went straight for a government debt instrument. And when I blew out the candles on that tasty birthday cake, there it was. Slipped into a clean white envelope lay my $25 Series E savings bond. Now all I had to do was wait five years and that $25 would be mine.

Fast forward three decades through a move to college, moves to several different apartments, a marriage, my own child sent off to college, and there it is. Nestled at the bottom of my bill basket, the clean white envelope yellowed with age, is that savings bond. For several years now, when I go through my paperwork and empty my bill basket, I often come across the bond and automatically toss it back in when I done paying my bills.

But this weekend was different. I don’t know what came over me, perhaps the simple desire to reduce clutter, but this weekend I finally took that bond into a bank to redeem it. I had thought redemption would be complicated and might involve a trip downtown to the Federal Reserve,  but it turned out to be no more difficult than signing the bond over and providing my social security number. And, as I stood at the teller window wondering what I was going to spend that $25 dollars on, the miracle of compound interest occurred. For some reason I had thought savings bonds only matured to their face value. But no. After waiting over thirty years to enjoy this birthday gift, the teller asked me how I would like my $106.97. Shocked, it took me a moment to sputter out I’d like it in twenties. The transaction completed I walked out of the bank with a wry smile and a bit of a chuckle thinking about how long that bond had sat there silently earning interest for me over all those years.

Now the question is what to do with this windfall. I’ve got a baseball glove, and a car, and I’m not one for games. I do, however, have my eye on a bicycle.

Big sports weekend what with the MLB playoffs heating up, lots of great college bowl games, and a full slate of NFL action. But all of that pales in comparison to the big event which took place right here in San Francisco. I’m talking about the 2009 running of the Nike Women’s Marathon. 20,000 half and full marathoners took to the streets of our fair city to tackle a course which offered breathtaking views of the Golden Gate Bridge, a loop through lovely Golden Gate Park, and an out and back along Ocean Beach. The course also featured  a fair amount of the hills San Francisco is know for.

Although there were a couple of gents sprinkled into the field here and there, I wasn’t participating in the race. Instead the honey and I along with a group of our close friends were cheering on another friend of ours participating in her first marathon. So to her and all the other folks who made the NWM such a special event, congratulations, and I hope to see you out there next year.

Runners passing through Golden Gate Park

These gals are fast!

Full and half marathoners meet at an aid station in the park.

Almost there!

Finish line is in sight, but still can't see the firefighters.

I'm the guy wearing a white hat.

Photo by Brant Ward of The Chronicle

This past weekend’s San Francisco Marathon capped off my first year as a marathon runner. Starting off at last year’s SFM and continuing through Napa Valley and Seattle’s Rock ‘n’ Roll event I found myself once again standing in a starting corral early on a Sunday morning eagerly waiting to run through the streets of San Francisco.

In pre-sunrise darkness with the necklace of lights hanging from the Bay Bridge reflecting off of the waters of the bay to my right I shuffled my way to the starting line after the elites and first wave runners took to the course. Moments later I was off, sort off. Just as we runners started to jog slowly through the starting line, many of us had to stop short to funnel through some sort of advertising arch positioned in the middle of the street. I don’t know what the ad was for, but I sure hope it’s not a course feature next year. Once I was through the obstacle course though, the pace picked up, and I drifted over to the extreme right hand edge of the street (and occasionally up onto the sidewalk) where there was more room to run without having to weave through knots of runners. The first part of the course is a pancake flat shot through the tourist kitsch of Fisherman’s Wharf whose visual pollution is balanced by the soul-satisfying aroma of freshly baked sourdough bread wafting from the Boudin Sourdough Bakery. Passing the Mile 1 marker I glanced at my watch to check my pace and was happy I was only a few seconds over my goal.

Here I’d like to take a moment to talk about setting a marathon goal pace. In a previous post I wrote about what I took away listening to John Bingham talking about how race day conditions affect the pace you set for yourself. With his words about effort dictating pace not the other way around in mind, I had chosen to run at a pace I’d been able to maintain on some of my previous long runs. A pace which would yield a satisfying PR. And the race day conditions were cooperating as well: cool temps with overcast skies and a light breeze. Mentally and physically I felt good, and when I checked my watch and saw my first split, I sped up just a tick keeping in mind the pacing discipline to not go out too fast. My plan, however, had what would soon become an obvious flaw.

I was trying to maintain a 7:47 minute per mile pace which would yield a finish time of 3 hours and 24 minutes. An odd finish time to be sure, but dictated as I said before by a pace I’ve maintained on longer training runs. The problem is, there’s no 3:24 pace group, and no one was handing out bracelets with 7:47 splits at the expo either. So, I had decided to keep track of my pace as if I were scoring a round of golf. When I hit the split marker on my watch I noted the time and either added or subtracted the seconds I was above or below my pace time. For example, after Mile 1 I was plus 4, and after Mile 2 I was minus 9 which put me 5 seconds under my goal pace. As I cruised along Crissy Field with the fog-shrouded Golden Gate Bridge in the distance my plan was on track. On the bridge however, with drivers honking encouragement and a fog horn booming away at my feet, I noticed a distinct lack of mile markers. If I was going to continue to use my golf scoring method of keeping track of my pace, I was going to have to quickly add up some pretty weird numbers in my head. Under the best conditions, I’m a bit math challenged, and now, trying to ingest GUs at the right time, while hydrating properly, keeping proper running form, all while enjoying the view and having a good time turned out to be more than the abacus in my head could handle. I kept dutifully recording splits, but I had no way of knowing if I was on my goal pace or not.

With math no longer a concern I was free to focus on enjoying the race, which is easy to do in a place like San Francisco. As if running on the deck of the Golden Gate Bridge isn’t enough of a treat, Mile 10’s long downhill hugs the edge of a cliff overlooking some of the city’s finest beaches and the mighty Pacific Ocean. At about mile 12.5 our half marathon friends bid us adieu and we full marathoners began a six mile loop through Golden Gate Park. I am fortunate to run this part of the course almost every week as I train, so I felt very comfortable on my tour past the Bison Paddock, the grey fog misting through the cypress trees, and the old folks getting their early morning groove on to pulsing techno. And thank goodness for the local Hash House Harriers balancing out all that Cytomax and water with the doses of cleansing ale they had on offer. I didn’t partake myself, but just seeing them there on the course made me chuckle as I passed.

Out of the park and a straight shot down Upper and Lower Haight where I high-fived Kelly, one of the co-founders of the dailymile website, who was cheering on runners. I was still feeling good at Mile 21 which barely brushes through San Francisco’s vibrant Mission District. Hopefully the race organizers can be convinced to change the marathon route slightly so next year we runners can experience more of this historic San Francisco neighborhood and less of the industrial blight which greets us around Miles 23 through 25. By the time I reached Dogpatch and the eastern edge of the course, I had definitely slowed down, and my mind was telling me to wrap it up and start walking. My body took a quick inventory, however, and over-ruled my mind. There was no obvious stiffness or cramping going on in my legs, my tummy felt fine, breathing was alright, I was still running upright, and I could see the Bay Bridge which marks Mile 26 in the near distance. In a few minutes I knew I’d be in the chute cruising the final point 2. I rounded AT & T Park and headed up the Embarcaderro clocking a respectable 8:08 for the last full mile. Not enough to make up for straying from my goal time for so many miles, but enough to get me across the finish line in 3:30:24–my second fastest marathon finish and a full five minutes faster than last year’s San Francisco Marathon.

I collected my finishers medal, which is designed to double as a coaster (brilliant I think), accepted heart-felt congratulations and a banana from my family, and headed home to clean up and enjoy the Pancakes of Honor I had earned. Next up is Houston in January, but I’ll be back to run San Francisco again.

Click here for more photos from the hometown fishwrap.

Actually, I might have been more worried if this meat wagon rolled up.

Long run Sunday, so that means another jaunt through the park so I can get in the mileage. Everything was going great, and I was locked in a nice zone. That is I was until a poor fellow on a bicycle went ass over teakettle over his handlebars right next to me. I immediately put on the brakes and rushed over to see if I could help him out. Blood everywhere, missing teeth, and minor shock. As a few other cyclists came over to see what they could do, I told one of the injured fellow’s companions to go get ice and napkins from a vendor which is basically the equivalent of those scenes in movies where a gentleman is told to boil some water and gather some towels when a woman goes into labor. The tasks aren’t very useful, but they give the guy something to do. I guided the fellow over to a bench so he could sit down and then went and got his bike out of the road. By then someone with a phone was dialing 911, and after telling his companions to let the paramedics know where in the park they were I resumed my run.

Moments later I felt a little guilty, but I didn’t feel there was much else I could do. Looking back I suppose I could have used my water to start irrigating his wound a bit, but I didn’t think about that until I was long gone, and, really, is that the right thing to do for that kind of injury? Not only did I not know the right course of action in this case, but I realized I don’t know much first aid at all. Mostly that’s not a problem; I can count on one hand the number of times in my life I’ve been on the scene for an accident like this one. But, especially as a distance runner I should probably brush up on my first aid skills and have a better sense of what to do in case someone goes down in front of me on the racecourse, for example. We can’t always wait for the cavalry to come in to help us out, and sometimes dealing with an injured runner or cyclist requires more than just a walk over to a park bench.

flickr photo by jmv

Whiter whites and the opportunity to get in a little training run.

flickr photo by Darwin Bell

Laundry night. I’ve got to suck it up and get through it, but it’s such a waste of time. Since we don’t have laundry in the building, I’ve got to haul all our dirties to the closest lavanderia. And once I’ve crammed practically all the clothes we own into one giant washer, I’ve got nothing but time to kill. What to do?

I think you know where I’m going with this. How about a little post-marathon recovery run? Just a shorty. Not too fast. Don’t want to put undue strain on the legs. Sounds like a good idea, no?

While our collection of shirts, socks, and unmentionables went through the soak, wash, and spin cycles, I went on a little 30 minute run through the Mission. I felt pretty good, but I’ll tell you, I think my mind is ahead of my body right now. I might have felt ready to get back out there, but there’s no denying I’m still a bit stiff from Saturday. It was a bit like having the aerobic strength of the beginning of a long run combined with the stiffening legs of the end of one. A little odd, but overall I’m going to deem this effort a success, and I’ll probably put in a couple of miles on Thursday after another day of recovery.

Just please don’t anyone tell the honey, though. She thinks I always take a week off after running a marathon, and this might get her steamed at me. I’ve got to get out there, though, and train up quickly (but intelligently) for the upcoming San Francisco Marathon at the end of July.

Oh, and I haven’t yet told her I’m running that either.

Thankfully this wasn't the bathroom line.

It’s hard to start writing a report about last Saturday’s Rock ‘n’ Roll Marathon in Seattle without sounding like I’m on the payroll of the Convention and Visitors Bureau. The city is well known for it’s grey and wet Pacific Northwest weather, but this weekend Seattle was primed and ready for us runners offering gorgeous, sunny skies and tourist-crowded streets downtown humming with energy and activity. The city and us runners were ready for a great racing experience and the good people at Elite Racing delivered.

For an inaugural race I thought the Rock ‘n’ Rollers did a superb job organizing the event. From the energetic crew helping out at the expo to the transportation coordinators piling about 25,000 of us into busses everything was well managed and proceeded smoothly. Ample port-a-potties, UPS trucks to accommodate gear check, and long water stations on both sides of the course for right and left-handed runners were just some of the details the race organizers handled well.

The race turned out to be another mostly positive very long learning experience for me punctuated by a couple of “wow!” moments. Based on my predicted finish time I was placed in Corral 2, so I hit the course shortly after the gun went off to send the elite runners on their way. I situated myself with the 3:20 pace group with the intention of drifting back if their pace got to be too much for me to handle. For most of the first half of the race I stayed with the 3:20s propelled partially by the upbeat pacer’s one-man Michael Jackson tribute. Wearing a single white glove to honor the recently departed entertainer he exhorted us to sing along even if we, or more likely he, didn’t know the lyrics to the King of Pop’s songs.

Almost immediately after setting off, it became clear this race was going to have tremendous spectator support. Certainly many of the folks lining the route were friends or relatives of the runners cheering them toward the finish, but as we entered a normally quiet residential area I could tell many of the high-fiving, cowbell shaking spectators were native Seattleites offering full-throated support and encouragement for us tech shirt clad visitors.

And, as if cheering families, motivating cheer squads, and enthusiastic volunteers handing out water weren’t enough to lift my spirits, my first “wow!” moment sure was. Running through Seward Park around mile 6 the course turned to hug the shore of Lake Washington. Truly a beautiful sight with the sun-dappled water gently lapping against the shoreline. For a few moments I forgot about running and thought more about water skiing even as I saw the Lake Washington Bridge which we would cross in about three miles off in the distance.

My mind back on running I kept on to the bridge where those running the half sped off into the city, while the full marathon crowd put in a couple of out and back miles. There under a now very warming sun I saw the 3:20s drift farther out in front of me, and I made my way off the sun-baked bridge and into the cool shade of a tunnel leading downtown. One of the many bands lining the route had set up at the other end of the tunnel, and the echoes of their music boomed down the tunnel toward us runners creating a surreal, slightly disorienting atmosphere.

Moments later I came off the expressway which hugs Safeco Field, turned to head downtown, and experienced my next “wow!” moment. The next few blocks were lined with spectators cheering, clapping, and exhorting us runners on. Briefly amidst the urban scene and the noise of the crowd, even though my pace didn’t warrant it, I felt like an elite runner nearing the finish line. I carried that mental image for another minute as I turned and headed north toward Lake Union and the hillier back portion of the course.

An elite no more I gradually began to slow down as the sun, the long inclines, and the lactic acid building up in my legs began to exact their toll. I found it important during this stretch to keep hydrated and fueled while quieting the voice in my head urging me to take it easy and perhaps stop running. Not quite a wall, but I definitely was feeling a little tired. However, I pressed forward through the remaining miles and the last cruel out and back located tantalizingly close to the finish at Qwest Field. Finally, after 3:30:56 worth of effort I crossed the finish line and accepted my medal.

At the race expo the day before I listened to author/runner John Bingham relate a lesson he had learned from elite runners. “They don’t think about pace,” he said. Instead they believe effort dictates pace, not the other way around. And that maxim held true for me. I had set out to run at a pace which would lead to a 3:20 to 3:25 finish, but the warm conditions of the day dictated my slower effort, and I am very happy with my ultimate finish time and pace. After a couple of recovery days, though, I’m going to get right back on the streets and get ready for the next race and perhaps another visit to Seattle.

Click here for more marathon photos.

Cubism and calories at the SFMOMA

As if I needed any more reasons to love living in a city like San Francisco, along comes a story like this one from today’s SF Gate.

Caitlin Williams Freeman, a pastry chef at the Blue Bottle Coffee Bar at the SFMOMA uses works displayed in the museum as inspiration for some of her sweet creations. And, while you have to shell out the museum’s entrance fee just to have the pleasure of purchasing one of her treats, at least you’d have the pleasure of tasting her Mondrian-inspired cake.

Freeman makes one Mondrian cake per day. She bakes a big oblong white cake and smaller yellow, red and blue cakes, and cuts them into long thin shapes. She coats each of the pieces in ganache – a thick, rich covering of cream and dark chocolate – reassembles it all in a long loaf pan, lets it chill overnight, then ganaches the whole thing.

A culinary treat and art appreciation in one ganache covered delight. Just imagine what she could do with some of Jasper John’s paintings.

If you’d rather skip the museum entrance fee, head over to the Ferry Building and pick up something from Miette Patisserie and Confiserie. Freeman may no longer be involved in the day-to-day baking at the shop, but that doesn’t mean their Fresh Lemon Tart is any less delicious.

When Thursday dawns, I’m heading north to Seattle.

After months of training runs, multiple pairs of running shoes, and lots of GU, I’m ready to take to the streets of Seattle for its inaugural Rock ‘n’ Roll Marathon. Twenty-six miles starting in Tukwila before heading toward downtown , north to Lake Union and then back south to Qwest Field. Passing near the finish line twice (at about miles 13 and 24) before crossing it will be tough. But I know the energy of all the other runners, the enthusiasm of the volunteers and spectators, and, of course, the pulsing music of bands stationed along the route-a Rock ‘n’ Roll trademark-will help me across the finish line.

I’ve been fortunate to have had a great training period which I started shortly after finishing the Napa Valley Marathon in March. As race day approaches I’ve felt stronger and more confident as I run. I believe I’ve even gotten over my sun/heat aversion and have proven to myself I can run well in those conditions. And, perhaps most important, this has been the first time I’ve trained to run a marathon without sustaining any sidelining injury. No IT Band problems, hip issues, or foot ailments. Just weeks of relatively pain-free running, and now I’m ready to experience the all the rolling hills and lovely scenery Seattle has to offer.

Calm day on Elliot Bay

I finally put my credit card where my mouth is and signed up to run the Rock ‘n Roll Seattle Marathon on June 27th. Starting in Tukwila and meandering through Seattle proper, the marathon course loops by the finish area not once but twice. I’m going to need the motivation of every one of those bands and cheer squads for which the Rock ‘n Roll marathons are noted (the course map is here). Despite the loops and the elevation profile of miles 15 through 20, I’m looking forward to this race.

In September of last year, Trish and I traveled to Seattle for a short vacation, and in between trips to the original Starbucks and long sightseeing walks I did a lot of running. I experienced a wonderful rain-dampened run along the waterfront and through the streets around Pike Place Market as evening fell along with a challenging chase through the neighborhoods and parks of the Capitol Hill area with a running group associated with the Seattle Running Company.

I’ve been getting in a lot of mileage since my last marathon, but now the real training begins. I’ll be calling up the mileage schedule I’ve used to get ready for previous marathons, maybe tweak the diet a little bit, and start preparing mentally for another 26.2.

And, oh, I’ll need new shoes.