Pawz 2 Run 5K Recap

I had only decided to take part in the Pawz 2 Run 5K 12 hours before the start. The race was the 1st of 9 5K's/10K's that Davidson Timing, LLC was recording as part of their new ROC series. Just participating in the 5K granted me some bonus points, so I figured, what's another 5K? Having just set a major 10K PR the weekend before, and having had an enjoyable week of vacation and running at the beach, I was feeling good, so I hoped to at least record a respectable time, but ever since I got a sub-39 10K, I've kept my mind open to the possibility of a sub-19 minute 5K. Was today the day?

P2R used the same course as many Davidson 5K's: A downhill first mile down South St., a cut onto the South Prong River Greenway, a tough uphill second mile on Avinger, a turnaround and slightly uphill half mile on Pine, and then a rolling last half mile on Lorimer to finish at the Town Green. It was not the easiest course, but I had the benefit of knowing where the fast and slow parts of it were.

After registering on race morning, I did a brief warm-up run with veteren speedster Bobby Aswell--though not as brief as either of us wanted, because we nearly got lost on the way back to the race. Ooops! I lined up next to Jeremy and Julie Alsop, who both were competing in the 10K event, as was Bobby. After a short course description and some re-routing of traffic by our vigilant DART spectator Dave Munger, we were off. Knowing the first mile was the fastest, I pushed the pace straight off the line and moved ahead of the entire pack, trying to stay well below a 6 minute pace to bank some time. It was not until I saw Dave's photo later in the day that I realized exactly how far of a lead I gained in the first few hundred meters.

Front-running is awkward for me. I am used to watching my pace and letting the rest of the field fade back to me in the last third of the race. I had to remind myself that I was playing to the course, not the other runners. As this was going through my head, I heard footfalls advance to directly behind me shortly after veering onto the greenway. Was I fading back to the pack? No, I distinctly heard only one runner, and he (or she) seemed determined to maintain his position on my heels for the time being.  My first mile split was a speedy 5:45.

Coming off the greenway, I started feeling the progressive slope of Avinger. My watch told me I was slowing down, but my breathing was a far more telltale sign. Maybe I went out too quickly. If I did, there is no real room in a 5K race to correct such mistakes, so I had to hang on as best as I could. As I turned off Avinger, I grabbed a little more speed on my way to the turnaround. My pursuer stayed right in my blindspot. Half a mile later, at the turnaround, I was able to sneak my first peak at him and size him up: probably out of my age group, white shirt, black shorts, and a pair of Mizuno Wave Ronins. Most importantly, he did not look out of breath, and I was beginning to heave a little. I motored back up Pine and saw that "Ronin" and I were still far ahead of the rest of the pack. Bobby, Jeremy, Julie, and fellow DARTers Jason Gardener and Tara Owens all cheered me on as they saw me headed back the other direction, still in the lead. My 2nd mile split was 6:23--predictably slower due to the climb on Avinger. Doing some quick math in my head, I reasoned that I still had a shot at sub-19, but I would have to maintain a 6:07ish pace for the rest of the race.

I married myself to my intended pace for the rest of Pine St. Shortly after we made the turn onto Lorimer, Ronin made his move. He clearly had plenty left in the tank, because after passing me, he quickly built up a 5, 10, 15 second lead. There was not enough course left for me to retaliate; he was out of reach. What a superbly run race! Now, knowing there was no one left behind me who was a threat to pass, I could focus solely on keeping my pace. My watch displayed 18:15 just as it beeped off the third mile mark. The last 0.1 mile was uphill, but I knew the finish line was just out of view. I dug into a sprint and saw the gun clock counting up into the 18:40's. As I crossed the finish line, my official time was 18:51. I had broken 19 minutes! That's two major speed milestones in as many weekends. Dave was there to snap my picture at the end.

I congratulated Ronin on his well run race, and he introduced himself as Randy Francis. He had beaten me by 14 seconds.  My fellow DARTers did well at P2R as well. Bobby won the 10K with a 39:56, and Jeremy was a close second with 40:00 (although I think he crossed the line at sub-40). Fellow DARTer Courtney Ellabarger won the female division of the 10K with a 40:39, and Julie took second place with just over 43 minutes. Tara took third place overall for females in the 5K, and Jason and fellow DARTer Belinda West each earned age group awards for the 5K. Whew, way to represent, DART!

Gear used: Inov-8 Bare-X Lite 150. For a brief review of this shoe, see my recap of last month's Leprechaun Loop.

Next on my race calender:

4/28/12 (possibly) Our Boys 10K, Concord, NC

5/6/12: Long Cane 50K, Abbeville, SC

6/1-2/12: 24 hours of Loopy for a Cause, Davidson, NC

9/7-8/12: (possibly) Blue Ridge Relay, Asheville, NC

9/29-30/12:Hinson Lake 24 Hour Classic, Rockingham, NC

11/10/12: Anthem Marathon, Richmond, VA

A Recap of the Lake Norman Rotary 10K

One of my goals this year has been to race a 10K in under 40 minutes.  Given the effort it takes to maintain a 6:26 minute/mile pace for that period of time, I figured I would need to condition myself for the whole year to do it.  However, I have been peaking in my training lately, and I did maintain a 6:26 pace for 8K during the Leprechaun Loop 3 weeks ago.  Maybe now was the time.  There were four 10K races occuring this month.  Two were likely too expensive or too hard to work around my vacation.  That left Our Boys 10K at the end of the month and the Lake Norman Rotary 10K on the 7th.  The latter was a five minute drive from the house, and an easily accessible course for preview.  Still, the task seemed daunting.  Then, the light bulb went off.  Fellow DARTer Dave Munger also had been keeping his eyes open for a chance at a sub-40 10K.  Of late, Dave and I had been performing fairly comparably at middle distances, so I shot him a message to see if he was interested in the two of us pacing each other to our sub-40 minute goal.  Neither of us had held that pace for that distance before, but I figured working as a team could give each of us that extra push to make it happen.  After previewing the weather forecast, he was in.

Dave and I previewed the course the morning before the race.  It was laden with gently rolling hills but a negative elevation for the first half.  The second half had some long climbing on the 4th mile, a downhill reprieve on the fifth mile, and a steep hill to start out the last mile before a downhill finish.  We agreed upon our race strategy in advance: 1) mantain a 6:20 pace; 2) if either runner could not maintain the goal pace, the other runner would continue on ahead; 3) for the last mile, it was each runner for himself.  It was important to communicate these goals in advance because we likely would be unable to speak coherently while trying to maintain a 6:20 pace.

Fellow DARTer Stephanie with Dave and me before the race.

Race morning was pleasantly chilly--just under 40 degrees, but destined to warm up rapidly.  Dave and I did a brief warm-up jog over the last mile or so of the course to re-familiarize ourselves with the last hill.  In doing so, we noticed that instead of mile markers, the course was marked every kilometer.  While this is strange for an average neighborhood race in the United States, it made math easy for Dave and me.  As long as we were under 4 minutes for each km split, we were golden.  After warming up, we ran into fellow DARTer Stephanie Rodsater.  Her chiropracing practice, which she runs with her husband, was one of the main sponsors for the event.  Stephanie was running the 5K, and she dressed for the occasion in Easter Bunny ears, nose, and a furry tail.

I was sure to grab a spot right on the line so Dave and I didn't have to knock down any children at the starting gun.  At the "go" call, we were off.  Dave and I did our best to ignore everyone else and pay attention only to our watches and each other.  For the first couple of miles, our race worked out as planned.  When one of us would notice a lag in pace, he would push a little harder, and the other would follow the cue and match him.  Racing with Dave was also like wearing two Garmins.  Dave keeps his watch configured to show mile splits, time elapsed for the current mile, and instantaneous pace.  I also have a data field for instantaneous pace, but I keep the total elapsed time on my screen as well.  So Dave could monitor our progress mile by mile, and I could use the kilometer markings against the race clock to tell how far we were ahead of our splits for our 40 minute goal.

During a sustained long hill on mile 3, I asked Dave, "glide or push it?"  "I'll take it easy," was the only reply I needed.  We had banked some time with negative splits thus far, so it was prudent to save energy for the upcoming hills.  Our strategy for the 4th mile was to dig as hard as we could up the series of climbs and endure whatever pain was required to maintain a 6:20 pace, knowing mile 5 would give us a chance to breath on the downhills.  Both Dave and I were breathing audibly heavier during this stretch, but this is where I think we benefited the most from each other's pacing.  Neither of us was willing to take responsibility for slowing the other down, so we dug deep. 

After a turnaround at about mile 4.3, we coasted through a largely downhill stretch.  We were about 50 seconds ahead of an even 40 minute pace, so I focused on maintaining speed and energy rather than trying to steal more seconds.  Dave slowly faded behind me, but I could track his progress by his footfalls for a while.  With only one turn left on the route, he knew the way to the finish line.  I focused on the lead bicyclist and carried on.  Wait, the lead cyclist?  I had been paying so much attention to our pace that I had forgotten Dave and I were in the lead.  Now, I was in 1st place!  At the 8km marker, my split was 31:11, which was 46 second faster than the 8K PR I had set 3 weeks earlier.  I still had one last hill to climb, but as long as I didn't die on it, I was feeling pretty optimistic. 

Me crossing the finish line.

When I saw the hill, I called out to the lead cyclist, "This part is the real b-----!"  He affirmed my assessment but reminded my that it was all downhill after that.  I dug into the hill and focused on my breathing.  I wanted to save a little something for the final push, so I did not want to be wheezing by the time I got to the top of this hill.  Surprisingly, I was maintaining a pace in the 6:20's.  I passed the 9km mark at an elapsed time of 35:04.  I had my sub-40 goal all but locked up.  All I had to do was finish strong.  I coasted down the last hill and veered into the parking area towards the finish line and saw 38:52 on the gun clock ahead.  I settled into a final sprint and finished with an official time of 38:59.  I had beaten 40 minutes...and 39 minutes as well.  Immediately I turned around and cheered on Dave, who had just made the final turn into toward the finish.  Dave finished with a 39:18, also well clear of our goal. 

Dave's strong second place finish.

As icing on the cake, we had taken first and second place!  Go DART!  The third place finisher was a scant 3 seconds behind Dave, close enough to keep Dave on his toes for the last part of the race.

1st and 2nd place!  Go DART!

One of the most sage pieces of racing advice we all hear is to "run your own race."  However, in this case, I think running as a team is what gave Dave and I the edge to crush our goal so decisively.  Having a like minded runner to back you up on your race plan and hold you accountable for pace while you do the same for him takes a lot of the pressure and solitude out of racing for a target time.  I may have broken 40 minutes without Dave, but I surely would not have managed my pace as well, and I would have had a more painful last couple of miles.  This collaboration really ephasized the "Team" in "Davidson Area Running Team," so I found it appropriate that we both wore our DART singlets for this race. 

You can find Dave's recap of the race on his blog.

Gear used:
Inov-8 Road-X 155: Super light racing flats with a 3mm heel-toe drop.  I usually go sockless, but since I wore socks for theis race, I removed the insoles, making these 155 gram shoes even lighter.  You can't beat the bright yellow color!

My Inov-8 Road-X 155's

Next on my race calender:
4/28/12 (possibly) Our Boys 10K, Concord, NC
5/6/12: Long Cane 50K, Abbeville, SC
6/1-2/12: 24 hours of Loopy for a Cause, Davidson, NC
9/7-8/12: (possibly) Blue Ridge Relay, Asheville, NC
9/29-30/12:Hinson Lake 24 Hour Classic, Rockingham, NC
11/10/12: Anthem Marathon, Richmond, VA

"All this for a T-shirt..." MTC Shirt Run

Gasoline for the 160 mile round trip to and from Ellerbe, NC: $20.  Alarm Clock setting for Sunday morning: 3:30am.  Becoming a lifelong “shirt member” of the Mangum Track Club: priceless. 

Sunday, April 1^st was a great morning for running.  I know because I was awake for almost all of the AM hours.  While I naturally am an early riser, I had to get up especially early on this day in order to drive 2 hours to Ellerbe, where I would be meeting 50 others for my long run.  The Mangum Track Club started in the late 80s when 5 running friends from Ellerbe, NC decided to do a regular point-to-point run from Mangum to Ellerbe (about 15 miles).  One of them printed 5 navy blue shirts—one for each partner, and the club was born.  Ever since, anyone who joins the Club on one of their scheduled, semi-secret “shirt runs” (which follow the original point-to-point route) gets a free navy blue MTC shirt and becomes a member for life. 

So, it’s not having a new shirt that is important; we runners are overloaded with shirts anyway.  Rather, it’s what the shirt stands for: becoming part of an extended running community that asks for nothing but the love of running. 

Early to rise...

Getting to the rendezvous is a bit of an adventure.  There is no physical address, and the only landmark is a rusty dog pen on the side a forested rural state highway.  This was to be where our run would end, so veteran MTC members packed all of us “newbies” into their vehicles and drove us 15 miles to Mangum (more of a crossroads than a town), where we would begin.  I rode with Mark Long, who appeared to be the closest thing to a director this event had.  Mark embodied the run and the club; he was laid back, friendly, and just happy to be around new and old friends.  The ride to Mangum allowed me to preview the route in reverse.  The scenery and road surfaces were great, but I was in store for some major hill climbing after 10 miles or so.  Oh well, I have to earn that shirt!

MTC Newbies.

The whole crowd.

When we arrived in Mangum, there were a handful of runners waiting on us, all fresh from a run.  These MTC veterans were doing a double shirt run—out and back from Ellerbe to Mangum to Ellerbe—a total of about 30 miles.  Mark gathered all of the newbies for a photo, and then all of the runners in attendance for another shot.  After the photo op, a casual “on-your-mark-get-set-go” signaled for us to start jogging.  I took a spot at the front of the pack and settled in with a couple of MTC members named Tate and Rosemary.  We kept a nice, conversational pace for the 1^st 5 miles or so.  I was not tracking pace with my watch because this was meant to be a nice-and-easy fun run.  Based on the elapsed time, Rosemary estimated our pace as just on the fast side of 9-minute miles.  Most of the group was behind us.  Tate eventually pulled ahead but stopped on the shoulder of the road to chat with a few of the MTC support crew (who drove back and forth up the route snapping pictures).  Rosemary and I continued on. 

Tate, Rosemary, and Me

Me and Rosemary

At the second of 3 water drops, Rosemary stopped and said that she was going to take it easy for the rest of the way, but that I should go on.  I was carrying my own water, so I obliged and pulled ahead.  We were just shy of 7 miles, so I figured I would take the rest of the distance at marathon pace (8 minutes/mile) or better.  The chilly Spring morning was warming up nicely, and the open air along the state highway gave way to fragrant tree lines and peaceful road bridges over calm streams.  I had reconfigured my watch to display pace, and I comfortably was keeping a 7:45 pace on the relatively traffic-free highway.  At mile 8, a hill slowed me down, but I kept an easy, even effort, and climbed reached the top without breathing heavily. 

A short descent found my left big toe slamming into the toe box of my shoe—a result of me having reconfigured my laces that morning.  Due to some dorsal pain on my right 1^st metatarsal from having tied my laces too tightly last weekend, I was attempting to lace my shoes around the hotspot.  I did this symmetrically, but the fewer crisscrosses allowed my feet to move inside my shoes more freely, hence the pounding on my toenail.  This would make running downhill a little interesting today.

I was feeling great for pace, averaging 7:30 for a couple of miles in a row without really having to step on the gas.  Then, at mile 11, the hill I was anticipating loomed ahead.  I settled in, shorted my stride, and focused on relaxing.  The top of the hill was nowhere in sight, so I chugged along.  When I thought I saw the top, I kicked a little to get there more quickly, only to notice I was kicking towards a false summit.  Crap.  There were 2 or 3 more of these false summits to come.  Veteran MTC members kept driving past me and commending me on my pace for the climb.  I just smiled and waved, not knowing how much breath I should save.  This was practice for keeping equal effort on long climbs and not resorting to walking.  The sun emerged from behind the clouds and began to beat down on me, so I removed my tech shirt to make use of the intermittent breeze.  A couple of MTC members were on the shoulder of the road near Bethel Baptist Church, which was the landmark for the true summit of this mile-long hill.  “This is the top,” they reassured me, smiling.  I rewarded myself with an energy gel and proceeded to glide down the following 500 yards of downhill, slamming my big toe into my shoe with every other step.

At the bottom of the hill, I made the route’s only turn, which would lead us back to where our cars were parked.  This stretch of road had some rolling hills, but the gentle breeze was picking up and fanning me off.  Two miles later, I passed my car on the side of the road and dropped off my water bottle and shirt.  I strode to the stop sign at the highway intersection and tagged it to complete the traditional run.  Mark stood by with a camera to catch me as I strode by.

The finish to a great morning of running.

My first order of business was to get out of my shoes and examine my toe.  Not too bad, but the pounded toenail likely was not going to stay on much longer.  My GPS read just shy of 15 miles, so I hopped up and ran another ¼ mile in bare feet.  Then I collected my coveted MTC shirt and headed to the fold-out table Mark had equipped with snacks and treats.  As I gorged myself on M&Ms, pretzels, Pringles, and homemade cookies, other runners trickled in and collected their shirts.  I spent quite a bit of time getting to know the group and talking shop about training, upcoming races, and common runners we all knew.  I look forward to seeing many of my new friends again at MTC’s Hinson Lake 24 Hour Classic in late September.  If the experience I had at the shirt run is indicative of the friendliness and hospitality of all Mangum Track Club events (I’m sure it is), I look forward to a very rewarding weekend of running!

My member card.

Gear used:

Merrell Bare Access: A great zero drop shoe with some cushion to allow for minimalist running over long distances without too much pounding on the feet.  If only I had not messed with the laces…

Nathan Quick-Draw handheld water bottle: You forget you are carrying it after a while.  Great on a long run where you are not sure where water stops will be.

I dedicated the day’s run to the late Micah True, also known as El Caballo Blanco, a mysterious veteran ultra runner from Colorado who had exiled himself from high-profile civilization to live and run as the Tarahumara of Mexico did.  Caballo had been missing after having gone on a run a few days prior.  I read of the finding of his body that morning before leaving for Ellerbe.  Run free, Caballo, run free.

Blarney! Recap of the Leprechaun Loop 8K

St. Patrick's Day was appropriately green and filled with allergenic pollen in Davidson this year.  It also marked Summit Coffee's 1st annual Leprechaun Loop 8K, the 1st race in the coffee shop's newly minted Twilight Racing Series.  An impressive 250 runners showed up to kick off the series right.  Among them was local Olympian Anthony Famiglietti (FAM), and nearly a dozen other members of Davidson Area Running Team (DART).  Summit owner Tim Helfrich and his brother Brian--both fellow DARTers--were the RDs for the event, and they were kind enough to share a map of the course to our running group a couple weeks in advance.  Like a handful of others, I capitalized on the nepitism/homefield advantage and previewed the course a few times, including once at tempo pace to emulate race conditions.  As other DARTers surely would agree, previewing the course may have added race-specific knowledge, but only solidified the intimidation of the elevation profile.

The potentially stormy, surely humid forecast turned gave way to relatively merciful race conditions.  It was still hot and humid, but the sun dipped behind a cloud bank moments before the start and stayed there for most of the race.  While a breeze might have been refreshing, there was no danger of a headwind on what was already a challenging course.  I nestled into a group near the line that included fellow DARTers Dave Munger, Tommy Wagoner, Bryan Massingayle, Jordan Duvall, and newly introduced Peter Browne.  My pre-race prediction was that Dave and Tommy would be duking it out the whole way, both finishing a minute or so ahead of me.  Bryan, despite being a fast marathoner, was getting over a feverish crud, so I figured I could hold my own with him for 5 miles.  I didn't know what to expect of Peter; my only clue about him was that he was a 3 hour marathoner, so I wasn't too worried about keeping pace with him.

Runners at the gun.  Photo courtesy of Chad Randolph.

At the sound of the siren, FAM shot out ahead as everyone knew he would.  A dozen or so runners flew by me, including Tommy, who quickly advanced to a 10 second lead on me.  The 1st half mile was practically all downhill, so even though I had to settle my self down in order to save my energy, I still clocked a sub-6 minute/mile pace without really thinking about it.  Speed got a little more manageable as we picked up the sidewalk next to Griffith Street.  Tommy stayed within sight, and Peter pulled alongside me.  Shortly after turning left past the Davidson Charter School, Peter passed me at the 1 mile mark.  My split was 6:09. 

A left on Faust and another left on Catawba brought us to a long straightaway that led back towards Main Street.  Dave passed me here and looked to be keeping a manageably quick pace.  He stayed in reach, and Tommy stayed in sight, but Peter and I kept leap-frogging around each other.  After a quick detour onto Potts, I hopped ahead of Peter and waved at my cheering wife.  Chad Randolph was on the other side of the street to catch a photo of us around mile 1.5.

Me at mile 1.5 with Pete hot on my heels.  Photo courtesy of Chad Randolph.

A left on Main and a right on Walnut wrapped up the 2nd mile (6:30) and led to the longest sustained downhill of the course.  Dave was fewer than 2 strides ahead of me, so I leaned into the decent on Walnut and passed him as we hung a left on Mimosa.  A right turn on South Street gave us a couple hundred more yards of nice downhill, so I honed in on Tommy, who was fading back to me.  Tommy was tenacious, and it took the length of the hill to finally pass him as we angled left onto the greenway. 

Back to reality.  As the greenway leveled out and gave way to Avinger at mile marker 3 (I forget my split at this point), I was aware I had a lot of negative elevation I would have to gain back. This stretch of road was a real pace killer.  Another runner in my age group passed me here and stayed in front of me for the remainder of the race.  I pushed for an even effort and reminded myself that this gradual climb would be an easy spot to lose any semblance of a lead I might have gained on my competitors.  I did not hear anyone directly behind me, so I set my eyes upon the next intersection.  A left on Pine offered some reprieve: I went from uphill to slightly less uphill.  I had done mile repeats for speed work on this particular stretch of road a few times, so it felt comfortable to gun the throttle a little bit.  Fellow DARTer Marc Hirschfield stood by at my next turn onto Lorimer halfway through the 4th mile and snapped a picture of me as I thumbs-up'd by.


Me at mile 3.5.  I look better than I feel.  Photo courtesy of Marc Hirschfield.

 On many races and training runs, Lorimer would be the last stretch before the finish, but not so with the Leprechaun Loop.  A left on Woodland aimed me down the last significant downhill the course had to offer.  I leaned into that sucker to milk it for all it was worth, eventually cracking a 5:45 pace by the time I hit the bottom.  Woodlawn turned right onto Spring Street, which led straight uphill--penance for the sinful downhill I had just run.  It was not a long ascent, but it slowed me to a more humble 7:15 pace by the time I reached the top.  I crossed over South Street within shouting distance of the finish line and continued down Spring to a short, jarring downhill that did little more than set me off balance before doglegging around toward my next intersection.  A right turn on Goodrum gave me a steep 100 yards of loose gravel driveway to climb before I would reach South Street one last time. 

At the end of Goodrum, my legs were trashed, but I had a few hundrend more yards of uphill running on South St. between me and the finish line.  the volunteers had stopped traffic for me, only to let the driver continue on the road right behind me.  Nothing goads your pace like a car chasing you!  My wife was cheering me from the sidewalk as the finish line approached.  When I saw the gun clock tick over to 31:50, I gunned it into a full-tilt sprint in an effort to break 32 minutes.  My official time was 31:57, a 6:26 overall pace.  I dropped my hands onto my knees to suck in some air before my wife rewarded me with some green beads in the spirit of the holiday.  Peter finished after me, followed in short order by Dave, Tommy, and Bryan.  All looked as out-of-breath as me.  FAM already was doing some cool-down strides.  He had fnished 4 minutes ahead of the second place runner with an unfathomable 23:56.  Heidi and I grabbed some water and coffee inside Summit before partaking in the post-race festivities. I later found out that I finished 10th overall out of nearly 250 runners.  Woohoo!

Relaxing inside Summit Coffee after the race and sporting some St. Patty's Day beads.

 One of my goals for the year is to race a 10K in under 40 minutes.  If I could keep this race's pace for another 1.2 miles, I would just barely be able to do it.  All I need to do is find a more forgiving course, but I'm certainly hungry for it!  I will keep readers posted as my progress towards that goal develops.

My Green Inov-8 Bare-X 150s

Gear used:
--Inov-8 Bare-X 150: a zero-drop, sub-6 ounce racing flat.  Lots of ground feel, very quiet, and super fast.  These will be my go-to road racers for anything short of 10K.
--Racing singlet by Reckless Running: lightweight and comfortable.  I almost forgot I was wearing a singlet.  The royal blue color really pops too.

Next on my race calendar:

 

5/6/12: Long Cane 50K, Abbeville, SC

9/7-8/12: Blue Ridge Relay (maybe), Boone/Asheville, NC

9/29-30/12: Hinson Lake 24 Hour Classic, Rockingham, NC

 

Fall Road marathon TBD

WTF is "Minimalist" anyway?

It goes without saying that when you are a part of a social running group, many of the mid-run or virtual conversations revolve around footwear.  Everyone has an opinion about what is best for most, or works for some, or causes injury, etc., but I fear the tag words we use (and misuse) are causing a lot of misunderstandings in the running community.  Therefore, I have promised some of my running friends that I would blog my 2 cents.

Minimalism no doubt is a movement that is gaining speed in the running community, even though many runners have been running barefoot or nearly barefoot for many years.  As with any runaway trend, manufacturers are quick to jump on the bandwagon and slap the popular label on their latest products, whether they embody the true nature of the paradigm shift or not.  It harkens to the early 90s, when terms like “grunge” and “alternative” were the sell-sell-sell names for what was just plain rock ‘n roll.  In fit of pop irony, “alternative” became the new mainstream.  I foresee a similar phenomenon happening with the “minimalist” descriptor in terms of running footwear.

NOTE: In the interest of adding to the debate, everything contained in this post hereafter is solely the opinion of the Sockless Runner, who does not pretend to be an authority, but who does feel that he is knowledgeable enough to spark a discussion on minimalism.

What makes a shoe minimalist?  For that matter, what makes a runner minimalist?  Let’s tackle that first.  Not all runners who wear lightweight or minimalist shoes are minimalist runners.  Some runners have found this out about themselves through injury or discomfort.  In order to be a minimalist runner, one must run with a more natural stride, as if one were barefoot.  This involves a quick cadence (180+ steps per minute), a midfoot or forefoot landing directly beneath the hips, an upright posture, and relaxed, flexed joints (no locked knees).  Even some minimalists have a hard time keeping their form correct, this blogger included.  Minimalism discourages over striding and heel striking.  In order to gain more speed, a naturally minimalist runner would lean forward with his or her chest, and let the falling momentum generate more forward energy, rather that shoot the legs way out in front of the hips in order to steal a couple of extra inches on each stride. 

Many barefooters encourage ditching shoes altogether in order to let one’s body find this natural running form, because heel striking is physiologically unnatural and painful to unshod runners.  Said barefooters then suggest moving to minimal or barefoot shoes only after establishing proper form.  The other camp on transitioning to a natural running style favors gradually reducing the cushioning and support of the shoes you chose to wear in order to not shock your joints, muscles, and tendons, which have atrophied and shortened after a lifetime of wearing supportive shoes.  I have used the latter method to make the transition. 

Does this mean that one can run with a natural running style with conventional, cushioned running shoes?  Sure.  In fact, I ran my 1^st marathon and 1^st ultra in cushioned, light stability shoes (Brooks Ravenna for both).  Cushion does allow a runner’s form to slip, though.  In the last 7 or so miles of Frosty 50K, I used a lot of brain energy to concentrate on my form.  Nowadays, no matter how much I used to love my old stability shoes, I just can’t bring myself to run in them anymore.

Ok, so now that we have an idea of what a minimalist running form looks like, we move to the shoes.  I describe a minimalist shoe as having 4 qualities: little or no heel-toe stack height differentiation (0mm-4mm); light weight (<8 ounces per foot); little or no cushioning in the midsole; and extreme flexibility.  The flexibility is important because it allows the muscles in the feet to do their work and become strong, rather than just get pounded by body weight.  If a shoe has 2 or 3 of these characteristics, I would consider it semi-minimalist. 

Some shoes are just plain conventional shoes that adopt 1 or 2 of these traits, but don the “minimalist” moniker.  The Brooks Pure Project and the Saucony Kinvaras come to mind.  I would consider these shoes “transitional,” or just plain light weight.  Conventional runners might call them minimalist, but they would be a lot of shoe for someone like me.  I have a pair of Brooks Pure Flows, and I still use them for long runs, or for recovery when my joints are pounded after a marathon or long race, but they feel comparatively pillowy now, and they don’t turn over as quickly.  They are still a great shoe, and I recommend them for runners looking for a lighter alternative from their conventional trainers, but they are by no means minimalist.

So here’s a list of shoes I either own or have tried, and how I would categorize them:

Minimalist Shoes:

Vibrim FiveFingers, Merrell Barefoot Trail Gloves/Road Gloves, Inov-8 Bare-X series, New Balance Minimus

Semi-Minimalist Shoes:

New Balance MT110, Inov-8 F-Lite series, Altra Instinct, Merrell Bare Access

Transitional Shoes:

Brooks Pure Project series, Saucony Kinvara and Mirage, New Balance MT101, Montrail Rogue Racer, Nike Free

Obviously, I missed quite a few brands (Vivobarefoot, Newton, etc.) but most everything else is a conventionally cushioned trainer. 

That’s my 2 cents.  Make of it what you will.  However I MUST STRESS THIS POINT: if you do want to make the transition to minimalist running, follow the 10% rule and don’t do it too quickly.  Getting injured in the process of a transition would defeat the whole purpose!

Bat Out of Hell; or Umstead Trail Marathon Recap

Dramatis Personae:

Bobby Aswell, Jr., DARTer and veteran of 174 marathons

Val Wrenholt, DARTer and marathoner/ultrarunner

Barefoot Josh, fellow minimalist runner and blogger

Mr. Nathan Vest, an unnamed runner in a Nathan vest

Brandon and Nicholas Teague, a father and son

And Me, Chas

Opossum, rattlesnake, white-tailed deer…what was it going to be this year?  Every year, the Umstead Trail Marathon race directors choose a different animal to be the race mascot .  This “critter” goes on the race T-shirts and becomes the shape for the winners’ plaques that go to the 1^st 15 male and female finishers.  This mascot is a closely guarded secret until packet pick-up.  Upon arriving at Great Outdoor Provision Company in Raleigh on the eve of the race, I was happy to see that 2012 was to be the Year of the Bat.  Awesome!  To paraphrase fellow DART member Bobby Aswell, we were going to be running like a bat out of hell!

I chose UTM for my Spring marathon for 4 reasons: It was close; the field was limited to a small size; it was on trails; and it was notoriously difficult.  The rainy weather and overnight thunderstorms played a key role in determining my goals for the day.  First and foremost, I was out to set a PR.  Despite unforgiving reputation of this race, I was in a lot better shape than when I ran Thunder Road 4 months earlier, and I still believed I performed well within my limits in Charlotte.  I figured I could power through the trails and truly test myself at Umstead.  On a clear, cool day, I would have shot for 3:40, but given the conditions, I would have been very happy with anything close to 3:45.

I showed up at William B. Umstead State Park in plenty of time to get a good parking spot next to the race HQ and get my gear in order.  Then I relaxed next to the cozy fireplace while the other 175 racers trickled in and got ready.  It looked like the day was going to be overcast and cool, with intermittent light rain—great weather for running, if only the footing wasn’t so mucky.  As the HQ became more and more crowded, I stashed my jacket and stepped out for a half-mile jog to get the blood moving.  Everything felt great that morning.  I was extremely happy with my training, and I was itching to race.  Bobby Aswell showed up 30 minutes before the race, and I joined him for a little more of leg-stretching jog. 

As the field gathered around the starting area, I saw quite a few race shirts with previous Umstead critters on them: flying squirrels, horseflies, frogs, turtles, and many of 2011’s ticks.  There were a lot of UTM veterans who were coming back for more.  I recognized one of the “ticks” as Barefoot Josh, an entertaining runner/blogger with whom I share similar sensibilities when it comes to minimalist running.  I introduced myself and had a brief conversation about the course, footwear, and other runners we might both know, and then settled next to him to wait for the start. 

The race began with a few hoots and hollers, but then the sound quickly blended into splashy footfalls and steady breathing.  Barefoot Josh and about 40 other runners shot out ahead of me.  I took advantage of the gently hilled, open bridle trail to set a quick and comfortable 8-minute pace, and I let anyone and everyone faster than that blow right by me.  The nature of this course allowed for several out-and-back portions, so I would see everyone in the field again at least once or twice. 

Shortly after the 1^st mile marker, the course took us into the 1^st of 3 single track sections.  It felt great to jump into the trees and hop around over roots and rocks.  I passed several runners in the 1^st few hundred yards of single track, and continued to reel in runners for the next few miles.  I dug into the ascents and shot for equal effort, but I rode the downhills like a roller coaster and moved further and further up in the field.  After about 3 miles, I slinked around a runner wearing a Nathan gear vest, but I continued to hear his breathing for the remainder of that leg of the race.  As soon as we broke out onto the bridle trails, I angled to the side to catch the 1^st water stop.  Mr. Nathan Vest had a handheld bottle, so he shot past me and sped down the long hill ahead.  I kept him in my sights.  Running downhill had been a training focus of mine over the past few weeks.  Rather than leaning back and letting my legs absorb the shock of the descent, I leaned my chest forward and kept my forefeet landing directly beneath my hips to maintain a fast turnover.  Nathan Vest shot into the next single track leg at the bottom of the hill.  I was 10 seconds behind him.  As soon as I hit the trees, I locked on to Nathan Vest and started closing.  I shot past him around a tree in the middle of the path.  “Alright!” he exclaimed, clearly happy to have a footrace going on between us.  “Let’s not do this all day,” I jested. 

I saw Mr. Aswell through the trees 15 seconds ahead of me, and I was closing on him.  Something had to be wrong; either I was running to fast, or Bobby was not having his best day on the trails.  If there was one runner with whom I knew better to compete, it was Bobby, so I was content to stay in his shadow all day if I needed to.  Bobby continued to fade back to me, and I spent the better part of a mile just a couple strides behind him.  At mile 5, he moved aside for me to pass, and I took the opening.  After all, how many times will I get to pass Bobby Aswell?  The next aid station turned the runners around, so I got a glimpse of the pack leaders.  Barefoot Josh gave me a thumbs-up as he passed me going the other direction.  10 minutes later, we were out in the open on the bridle trails, and I heard familiar footfalls closing in behind me.  As Bobby passed me, I remember thinking, “eh, it was fun while it lasted.”  After mile 6 lay the entrance to the last leg of single track.  “Here we go again with the trails,” Bobby said without all that much enthusiasm.  I followed Bobby onto the treacherous downhill path.  Bobby chose his steps very deliberately, and I was forced to slow down to stay behind him.  He waved me ahead of him once again, and I let it rip down the steep hill.  I passed a few more runners within the next couple of minutes, but then I settled into a long stretch of single track along a quickly flowing creek where I saw no other runners, volunteers, or human beings.  This was my favorite part of the race.  I was almost saddened when I saw the volunteers near mile 8 direct me out of the single track and back onto the wide bridle trails.

Miles 9 and 10 took the course down a long, steady hill, and then up an even longer one.  Another runner passed me strongly on the uphill.  Lo and behold, it was Mr. Nathan Vest.  “This is my favorite hill,” he pronounced as he ran on ahead.  With the mile count still in the single digits, I was content to let him go and keep an equal effort on the climb. He stayed within sight for the next few miles.  At mile 10, the humidity prompted me to roll down my arm sleeves and take off my hat.  No sooner did I do so than it started raining.  Great.  Luckily, the downpour was light and short-lived.  The aid station after the 10^th mile marker had an excited host of volunteers, and an adolescent trumpet player squeaking out the theme to Rocky and other inspirational melodies.

This long stretch of miles included several noteworthy rolling hills.  Having studied the route map a few times, I would be traversing this path backwards on the back end of the race as well, so I made note of what I was in for.  I did my best to maintain a slower-but-equal effort on the climbs, and I leaned into the drops to grab some extra speed where I could while preserving my quads.  At mile 12, I passed Nathan Vest for the last time.  I feel bad for not asking his name if only to see how he finished the race. 

Save for an enthusiastic group of children at the mile 12 aid station, the next couple of miles were hilly and quiet.  The trailblazers and lead runner passed me on the return leg a couple minutes before I reached mile 14.  I estimated the leader was about 2½ miles ahead of me.  As more runners came towards me, I counted them out loud to keep track of where I was in the field and the give them a clue of their positions.  Barefoot Josh was 10 minutes ahead of me in 9^th place (a position he would maintain until the end of the race).  When I reached the turnaround, I had counted 21 men and 1 woman ahead of me.  As I headed back uphill towards the long return through the rolling hills, I continued to count for a while.  I thumbs-up’d Bobby, who was the 25^th overall male at that time.  15 miles down.

The return leg through the rolling hills kept me a little more on my toes because I was passing by almost the entire racing field.  Many had encouraging words, and all of them wore smiles.  This just speaks to the higher level of camaraderie one finds at these lower key trail races compared to some of the big crowd road races.  The hills were still there, no matter how much I had hoped they would erode with the rain.  The downhills were shakier, but still fast, and the uphills were a little less forgiving this time around.  By mile 18, I still had plenty of energy, but my legs were starting to feel a little worked.  I motored on and started thinking of the next aid station, ignoring the fact that I had 8 miles left to run. 

At 19.5 miles, I returned to the same aid station from mile 10, and the young trumpeter was still tooting out the hits.  The hip abductors were talking to me now.  In the past, my knees, quads, and feet were my pain pockets after a long run, but all of those pieces felt reassuringly good.  Now I was getting a pain in my butt.  My calves, well, they were shredded.  After all, it is a hilly, hilly course.  Here lay the aforementioned long downhill followed by a long uphill, but in reverse.  I struggled to keep my form clean and lean into the descent to grab some momentum, but it took me nearly the length of the hill to crack a solid 8 minute pace.  Going up the long hill offered the cruelest reward of all: a right turn onto the infamous Cedar Ridge portion of the course.  Like most of the route, this 3 mile out-and-back section was a decently wide bridle trail, but instead of fine gravel and hard-packed dirt, the surface consisted of small rocks and pebbles—no good for pace or comfort.  Cedar Ridge trail rolled up and down gently, and I saw the leaders pass by me again looking a bit worn out.  I did not bother to count this time.  The climb up to the aid station at the beginning of Cedar Ridge depleted me.  Now I was bonked out, hurting, and demoralized.  With 4 miles remaining, I looked down the course’s most notorious hill (Graveyard Hill), dreading the fact that after I descend it, I would have to climb it once again.  Some of the leaders were walking slowly up the hill, and I knew I could not fathom the idea of running up it.  As I plodded my way down the hill and trudged to the turnaround, I remembered Bobby’s remark about the race mascot.  If we truly were bats out of hell, this certainly was hell, and I had to fly out of it. 

Once I approached the steep incline of Graveyard Hill, I automatically settled into a walk, pushing down on my legs with my arms as I went.  The 2 minute climb to the top offered some respite, but my body was reluctant to settle back into a running stride.  Shortly after mile 24, I made it once again to the Cedar Ridge aid station—the last aid station before the finish line.  “Water or Gatorade?” asked the volunteer.  “Yes,” I replied.  I grabbed both cups and halted to a standstill to enjoy the fluid.  Fellow DARTer Val Wrenholt arrived at the aid stop just after me and helped herself to a couple of Gatorades as well.  I had never met Val, so she introduced herself.  The last couple miles of a grueling race are a great place to meet a fellow member of your local running club.  I ate my last gel of the day, more to keep myself busy than to benefit from the energy.  After enough of prolonging the inevitable, I beckoned to Val, “you ready?”  We eased into a slow run and headed down the trail towards where it all began. 

At mile 25.5 was the sickest joke of all.  I gazed up 600 meters of incline where 3 runners ahead in the distance were reduced to a walk.  At the base of the hill was a modest sign that read “Welcome to Cemetery Hill.”  I ran all of 10 steps and walked the rest of it.  Val summoned the will to run the last half of Cemetery Hill and leave me in the dust (err…mud).  Val went on to finish 3 minutes ahead of me and placed 2^nd for females.  Awesome!  Way to go, Val!  A right turn at the top of Cemetery Hill led me to the final stretch.  When I saw mile marker 26 and glimpsed the finish line through the trees, I opened up into a full stride, ignoring the pain in my legs.  I pumped one fist in the air as I crossed the finish line at 3 hours, 48 minutes, and 3 seconds.  I was 21^st overall (19^th male) out of 169 finishers, and I had set a new marathon PR by over 4 minutes—on a MUCH more difficult course, I might add.  I hobbled into the HQ to grab my camera phone in an attempt to catch Bobby’s finish, but the darn thing would not start up in time.  Bobby had turned an ankle 6 miles into the race, but he still managed to take 25^th place overall. 

My body went into shutdown mode.  I was getting hypothermic, so I grabbed a complementary veggie burrito provided my Moe’s and sat by the fireplace for a good long while.  After 15 minutes of therapeutic massage from the specialists at Raleigh-based Stiner Massage, I felt like I could move again.  I was in no hurry, so I hung around the finish area until every last finisher crossed the line.  Everyone was so supportive of me, and I owed nothing less than to support them as well.  Among the more notable finishers were a father and son named Brandon and Nicholas Teague.  This was Nicholas’s 1^st marathon (what a choice!), and he was only 13 years old!  Perhaps he is the next Anton Krupicka in the making.

Umstead Trail Marathon easily was the most difficult race I’ve ever experienced.  There was no doubt that I truly had tested myself on these grounds.  After the upcoming Long Cane 50K in May, I might spend a little more time on the roads, but I will return to Umstead eventually.  Perhaps it will be to see what next year’s critter will be, or maybe to run the Umstead 50 miler next year.  But for now, I’m only concerned about food and sleep.

Things I learned at Umstead Trail Marathon:

1)    The Wall is real, and it will humble you.

2)    5 gels is the maximum my stomach can handle for 26.2 miles.

3)    Running single track is my strong suit.

4)    There is absolutely no shame in taking a walk break.

5)    No matter how hard you train, your trail pace never will be as fast as your road pace.

6)    CAUTION, PERSONAL INFO: I have mastered the art of urinating while running.  I won’t get into the mechanics of it, but it’s efficient and not messy.

Gear used:

New Balance MT 110: very tough for a semi-minimalist trail racing shoe.

Inov-8 Debris Gaiters: kept my feet grit-free all day.

2XU Compression Calf Sleeves: felt good to wear all race, and even better to take off!

RaceReady LD shorts: 7 pockets, need I say more?

Powerbar gels: nice, thin consistency, lots of electrolytes, good balance of fast and slow carbs, and I liked the taste.

Zensah full length compression socks: lifesaving to put on after the race!

Next on my race calendar:

3/17/12: Leprechaun Loop 8K. Davidson, NC

5/6/12: Long Cane 50K, Abbeville, SC

9/7-8/12: Blue Ridge Relay (maybe), Boone/Asheville, NC

9/29-30/12: Hinson Lake 24 Hour Classic, Rockingham, NC