That last half mile...

I've been running for a couple of years now and I've noticed a constant in my training...

Sometimes I don't feel my best and my pace suffers, or I cut a long run short.

Sometimes I feel pretty good and I decide halfway into my run, to add another mile or to tempo the last mile and speed things up.

Sometimes I run 3 miles, sometimes I'll run 9. (I'm still trying to work my way up to 13.1)

The constant is simply this:

When I commit to a distance, no matter how fast or slow I go, no matter how far I run, as soon as I get half a mile from my finish, I mentally shut down and I feel every ache and pain in my body. I get exhausted. I find myself glancing at my GPS every 2 seconds. I get thirsty beyond the capacity of my bottles.

In short, that last half mile kills me.

It's the hardest 5/10ths of my life.

Why is that?

You're a runner?!

When I first tell people that I am a recreational runner, I usually get the stupefied goldfish look in return.

"You run?!"

Yes, I run. 

I know I don't have the traditional runner's physique. I'm not lean, or aerodynamic to say the least. I carry much more weight on my frame than is necessary. In short, I am fat.

That's where running comes in for me. I run in order to manage my weight and hopefully that will lead to sustained weight loss. It's working, too. It just takes a while. I don't mind, however, as gradual weight loss still counts.

But I digress.

I find it humorous to see the different expressions cross the faces of those folks who've discovered that the rare and oft undocumented creature known as "The Fat Runner" not only exists, but is now standing in front of them.

Runners come in all shapes and sizes. We come in all age varieties, racial make-ups, and socio-economic backgrounds. Yet on the track, or race course, we're all equal regardless of our pace.

Yes, I'm a runner.

Why aren't you?

The Happiest PACE on Earth

RunDisney.

If you're a runner, casual or competitive, just the mention of it gets you giddy. If you're not a runner, you may ask yourself, "What the heck is a RunDisney?" You may also ask yourself, "Why am I reading a blog about running?" 

RunDisney are a series of runs sponsored by Disney that take place at Walt Disney World and Disneyland. There's all kinds of distances to choose from... 5Ks (3.1 miles) all the way up to Marathons (26.2 miles). 

Each run is themed. Each earns you a medal (cooler medals for the Half and Full Marathons, of course!) And the best part, each allows you to run through the park. That's right, the park gets closed and you get to use it as your track.

As a newbie runner, the idea of one day participating blew my mind. That's what really got me into actually wanting to increase my mileage and complete a half marathon. I wanted to run through Disney and walk away with a cool medal and the memories.

The experienced runners whose collective minds I'd pick as I transformed myself from lump of mashed potatoes to a lump that runs, would tell me that a RunDisney event was beyond a regular race; that it was something to experience to understand it fully.

So I decided I'd do one. I'd do a baby run. I signed up for one if their Family 5Ks. The difference between the 5k run and its corresponding half marathon is pressure and, well distance obviously. The 5k is less formal and less strict in terms of pace requirements. I figured I could do that.

Now, keep this in mind as I regale you with the rest of my tale... 5Ks are generally viewed as lesser runs than a half marathon or above. I can understand to a certain point. There *is* the distance factor. It seems like most consider a 5k to be a stepping stone to the longer distance races. Even Disney categorizes the 5Ks as less, as their medals are not as fancy. To a beginner it can seem overwhelming having just conquered a 5k, to have a more experienced and fit runner or event organizer seem to degrade a distance you fought so hard to reach... But I digress.

I did the Jingle Jungle during the Wine & Dine weekend. It was a beautiful morning run through Animal Kingdom with a few hundred folks and my best friend, who I somehow conned into joining my new running lifestyle. 

It was the most fun I believe I've ever had on a run. The atmosphere was relaxed, yet hyper, and everyone just seemed incredibly happy to be there. 

I wore the medal all day as we park hopped and rode the rides, and every cast member congratulated us as if we had accomplished some great feat. We were treated as high and mighty as those running the half marathon. And *that* I think is the Disney difference no one could put their finger on when they tried to describe a RunDisney event.

It's the perfect storm of runners uniting at the happiest place on Earth, and being treated as rock stars.

We signed up immediately for another RunDisney event after that day. We did Everest Challenge... But that's a story for another post.

Boston.

Shock.
Confusion.
Anger.
Sorrow.

What words cannot express, impressions do.

Sounds of people saying, "We need help" heard over the sounds of panic and explosions.

Photographs of bloody running shoes, and downed runners. Still life, frozen forever.

News accounts not playing up the death toll, but of injuries with an emphasis on "Amputations."

And yet we saw footage of marathon runners heading straight into the explosion and aftermath, towards the injured; towards the finish line.

If you have to ask why they didn't stop and run in the opposite direction, you wouldn't understand the answer anyway.

Runners go only in one direction: Forward.

May we follow that example in the aftermath, and keep running forward.

Runner down.

It doesn't happen often, but when it does it feels too often.

I'm talking about hearing the words: "Runner down."

There are many reasons you may hear those words at a run, but it all comes down to one thing... A runner went down. A runner fell and could not get back up and continue.

What you do as runner in this situation says more about you than in anything in any other situation... It separates the runners and racers. A racer is so worried about their finish that they will run past this situation. A runner stops and helps a fellow runner in anyway possible, pace and PR be damned.

Runners don't run against each other. They run WITH each other. Fast, slow, elite or recreational, runners are pack animals.

Racers are lone wolves. And they eat their own.

The reason I'm waxing poetic regarding this topic is that a member of my pack, a local runner, a mainstay at many of our local events went down at a recent event. He went down, and never got back up.

Cardiac arrest I was told.

I was sick and did not attend, but I know he was much faster than I. And I also know I would have come up right in the thick of things should I have participated.

I may not have been able to provide much in terms help, but I know I would have stopped. Reading the results of run in the paper, there was no mention of this incident other than next to one runner's time where it read: DNF (did not finish) stopped to assist down runner.

ONE solitary runner stopped to assist?

I hope it's just a case of our traditionally faulty newspaper reporting in our area, because otherwise that just's plain shitty.

I choose to run. I do not choose to race.

You never forget your first.

I signed up for my first 5K within 4 weeks of starting my Couch-to-5K training program.

I had read in running magazines and running sites that signing up for a run would provide a goal, and an accountability. A run on the horizon would supposedly focus my training and keep me from slacking off.

Since I had made it past my initial "I must be batshit crazy thinking my fatass could be a runner" system shock, I figured a 5K was a doable distance. I could interval it (walk/run/walk) and go at my own snailish speed.

I did not have any expectations, but I would be lying if I said my ego did not demand some sort of goal. Keep in mind, my whole journey to becoming a runner started with a blow to my ego and a challenge. So I set an attainable goal, being that I had yet to reach 2 miles in my training... One hour. I wanted to finish the 5K in less than 60 minutes. I aimed for 59.

A lesser goal came to me on the day of the run as I stood among the crowd: "Don't be last." But I'm getting ahead of myself.

The night before my run, I was a live wire. I prepared my gear. I drank enough water to drown a fish. I went to bed early... And I tossed and turned and could not for the life of me, fall asleep. 5AM came quickly and I was exhausted.

I arrived at the run an hour before the start time. It was a chilly November morning, and I couldn't get warm. I paced. I visited the restroom and basically fretted the whole hour.

Why was I nervous? Well, as I mentioned before, the furthest I had managed to go in training was about 2 miles, and quite frankly, those 2 miles just about killed me.

What I hadn't mentioned before is that my training took place on rural trails by myself. I'd never run with anyone else around. Yes, vanity is indeed the name of the game. I knew I looked stupid when running, and now as the other runners were starting to show I realized I was a fraud. I wasn't a runner. I was a wannabe. I didn't deserve to be there. What the hell was I thinking?!

The runners were instructed to line up. I saw folks I knew lining up at the front. I hid. I lined up in the back, with the elderly and strollers. As I looked around I decided that it was too late to pull out, and if I was going to go down I might as well go down in a blaze. I was going to do everything I could to not come in last.

I didn't hear the start of the race. I know there must have been some kind of signal or announcement, but I wasn't aware of it. All I was aware of was the mass of people around me suddenly moving... So I moved with them.

I put my earplugs in, and turned on my iPod and decided to drown out the world and pretend I was alone on the trails. I walked one song, ran two. I kept up that without paying attention to time or distance. Before I knew it I was at the water station... Halfway mark!

As I began to pass people I started to feel like less of a fraud. I know I was passed more than I passed, but I didn't pay attention to those pulling ahead. I figured for every person I passed that was one less person I finished after. Even if I only finished in front of one person, that meant I wasn't last.

At some point my playlist started to speak to me. It was during U2's Elevation that I saw the 3 mile marker, and saw the turn into the finishing chute. I had .1 of a mile left, time to gun it and go out in that blaze. (Granted, I was already a slow runner, and I was exhausted so "gunning it" was more mental than physical.)

I crossed the finish line at 56 minutes.

It was under an hour.

I wasn't last.

I didn't collapse and die.

I was feeling pretty okay about it, and then it happened... a person I knew came out of no where and hugged me and congratulated me. Then another person told me I did a great job. Then a stranger came up to me and said they were behind me the whole way and was using my pacing and walk breaks to keep themselves going.

I was accepted.

I was welcomed.

I was encouraged.

I wasn't a fraud.

I was a runner.

The following week, I signed up for another three 5Ks.

Set backs.

I must sound like a broken record at times.

"Running is not a science; it's an art."

That doesn't make it less true, it just makes it repetitive.

When I say that, what I mean to say is that there is no one way to approach the sport, nor is there a magic equation that will solve the "problem," whatever that "problem" may be.

When I started, I tried to make running logical. I wrote out a plan, followed a schedule, and subsequently berated myself if I failed to keep up. I *had* to be up to so many miles or at a certain pace by the arbitrary date I set for myself. Anything less than perfection was a reflection of my character.

I was taking what little joy I derived out of the torturous sport of running and I was converting it into a chore.

After I ran a few 5Ks, and I managed to achieve a pace that would prevent being swept off course, I relaxed. I found the joy in running. I found the peace of a long solo run. I found fulfillment in being tired earlier in the morning than most people are awake.

But this period was but a short reprieve.

I'm back to plans, schedules and dread.

I know mentally this is wrong. I should just be having fun out there, but all I can think is, "I've already run 10 miles. I just need to go another 3.1 and I'm half-marathoning."

I'm so close, that every time I go out and fail to go the distance due to pain, injury, illness, heat, cold, dehydration, or whathaveyou, I can't help but beat myself up.

Unfortunately there is no solution to this. It's easy to say, "Blow it off." But I'm rather pigheaded. I will run 13.1 miles or die trying... I just wish I could have some fun on the journey.

Running commentary.

I've noticed over time, that I tend to talk to myself while running.

Now, this is not to be confused with the usual mental coaching session that normally occupies my senses as I hit the trails. I actually vocalize as I run.

It's not a run-long conversation with myself in which I answer myself or anything quite as psychotic. It's more of various mantras and chants I repeat. The more tired I get, the more loopy and lightheaded I become, the more repetitive these prayers to deities unknown become.

Sometimes a song on my iPod playlist will hit a nerve, and I'll find myself repeating a phrase or chorus, sometimes it's a trite "motivational" phrase like "No Pain! No Pain!" or "Not Tired! Just Fired!"

I'm sure I both look and sound like a crazy person to the casual observer. As such I do try keep my volume down when near other folks. I already look silly with my racing gear going at a snail's pace, I don't want to add to it.

Since I run with my iPod blaring in my ears, sometimes I'm unaware of how loud I can be, so when running with other folks I keep one earbud out, so I can also be aware of my environment as well my as crazy antics. This has led to an interesting discovery recently.

I am not alone.

As I ran past one fellow, I overheard him repeating "Come on sun. Come out sun" as it was cold that morning. A lady passed me who seemed to have her own running commentary of "You can do this. You got this."

I'm not sure how this makes me feel.

I mean, either I'm normal, or all runners are bat-shit crazy.

It's all about the bling.

When you hear a runner talk about "bling," they aren't discussing the latest  Zales or Tiffany score. They are referring to finisher medals.

Most official runs, be they 5K, 10K, a Half Marathon, Marathon or Ultra will have a finisher medal. That is a medal you are presented at the end of the run, at the finish line. Because ultimately, it doesn't matter if you came in first or last, if you PR'd or crawled, if you finished, you won.

(Runners don't run against other runners. They run WITH other runners. But I digress. This is a topic for a different post.)

Some runs or races have better bling than others.

Local runs, usually have OTC (Over The Counter) medals. Those are generic medals you can buy at bulk at a local trophy shop. They are inexpensive for racing coordinators, and easy to buy extras of in case of same day registration.

Destination runs, those like the Rock and Roll series, ING, or RunDisney events which require registration months ahead of time usually have amazing custom bling. The medals are usually dated, and are highly coveted.

Of course, the bling is directly proportionate to the cost of the race. The more expensive the run, the more impressive the medal. It makes sense.

A local run may cost you $20 to participate in. An OTC medal is fine.
An ING or RunDisney event may cost you $75-$150 to participate in. An OTC would be an insult. Of course you're getting a hefty medal.

Granted, destination runs bring with them other kinds of bragging rights, since they feature certain criteria that a local run may lack. For example, a minimum pace requirement, early registration doe to sell out, or in the case of the Boston Marathon, you need to qualify to even be considered to run in it. The bling is just a physical representation of the bragging rights you've earn.

The bling says:

1. I followed the rules. 
2. Met the requirements.  
3. I went the distance.

Regardless of the type of run, hoops jumped through, and heft of the medal... bling is bling. Wear it proudly. It announces to the world, "While you were sleeping, I did this. Yay me!"

Imelda Marcos, who?

If you cannot tell by my uber-clever post title, this one's about shoes.

How important are running shoes?

Very.

Think of your car. You wouldn't get very far without tires, right? Your running shoes are tires for your feet.

Like tires, there are expensive shoes, and inexpensive shoes. Does it matter?

Yes and no.

Cost does not always equate to quality, so take that thought and forget it. Brand name also does not always equate to quality, so add that misconception to the trash pile as well.

What you want on your feet is quality. Much in the same way you would want on your car's wheels. Quality tires protect all kinds of important things that make your car go. Crappy or worn out tires are so bad, the police will ticket you for having poor equipment. Unfortunately there is no running police to stop you from running in crappy worn out shoes. Instead, you pay for it but experiencing knee, hip, and ankle pain. Sometimes the cost is injury. Sometimes the cost is surgery.

So, back to the topic at hand... If cost and brand name cannot be used to measure quality for running shoes, how will you know which to get?

Running is not a science. It's an art. The shoe that may work for you may not work for me. There are a lot of factors that must be taken into account.

How fast do you run?
How many miles a week do you run?
How much do you weigh?
How do you distribute the weight as you run?
Do you over or under pronate?
Do you land on your heel, mid foot or forefoot?
Do you suffer from knee pain and/injuries?

There are more questions and unfortunately your answers are the key to discovering the right shoe for you.

The good news is, you don't need to have the answers. What you do need to do is go to a good running shoe store. Payless won't cut it. Neither will the Nike store, or any Brand affiliated shop.

A good running shoe store will normally provide a free gait analysis, as well as provide a full fitting. (Properly fitted shoes is akin to having your tires at the right pressure. Bad pressure on tires equals bad gas mileage. Bad fitting shoes equals pain, blisters and slower running due to the ouch factor.)

At the running shoe store you will learn the type of shoe that is best for you and your stride. Be it a guidance shoe, a stability shoe, or a neutral shoe, once you have that knowledge you can move onto brand name choices within your criteria. And then try them on and do a test run at the store to make sure. Heck, most good stores have a 10 day return, so you can run in them for 10 days before you decide.


You might find that those $150 shoes you thought you needed are bad for you, but those $80 shoes are perfect.


  I've run in Saucony, Mizuno, Asics, and Newtons.

Prices range between $50 to $175.

I've had good and bad experiences with each. I currently run in Newton Isaacs and am currently switching to   Terra Momentum.


I like them. They feel good to me. At the end, that's all that matters.

Water, water, everywhere...

Enough cannot be said about hydration.

If you run, you need to drink water. Plain and simple. Good rule of thumb... If you're thirsty, you're already dehydrated.

So how do you prevent this?

Carry water on your run. Some will need to drink constantly, depending on effort and heat. I meter my water out so I drink approximately 2 ounces of water every mile I run. I start at the 2 mile mark and drink about 4 ounces in one go. That's usually where* the water station is located in a typical 5K run. I then continue with 2 ounce sips every mile marker.

Is that enough water? Probably not, but it's enough to keep me going till I make it to the finish.

I know on certain days, when the humidity is up at 100% (welcome to running in Florida) my body requires a whole hell of a lot more water. Other days, not do much. It's not a science. It's an art to find the proper balance that works for you.

But whatever you do, don't head out the door without some form of liquid refreshment. You're welcome.

*Some 5K runs place the water station at the halfway mark, but most tend to push it closer to the 2 mile marker in my experience... which is admittedly limited.

Mind your manners.

Running in general, has no official rules*.

There's no "designated hitter" rule, no penalty for "traveling" or "high-sticking", nor is there a line ref. The sport is as simple as "lace up and run."

There is though, a certain etiquette that veteran runners adhere by, which can be difficult for the newbie to latch onto. Some things are very common sense-ish, others require explanation to make sense for someone just dipping their toe into the running culture.

Here's a simple short list of usually observed "rules" at an official run.

1. Line up according to your pace not time of arrival.
Fast runners should be at the front. Slow folks should line up at the end of the pack. The "why" is simple traffic management. Plus if you're slow, it doesn't feel that good to have 50 people pass you.

2. If you're slow, stay to the right.
Much like on the highway, keeping to right when going slow prevents a bottleneck on the track or trail. Faster runners will pass on the left. Trust this as a constant.

3. If you need to stop for any reason, slow down, go towards the right and get off the course.
If you wouldn't stop your car in the middle of the highway, you shouldn't stop in the middle of the run. It's dangerous to you and others.

4. If running in a group, run no more than 2 abreast.
It wouldn't be a bad idea to stick to the back of the pack either, if you're running in a large group. No reason to be a road/trail hog.

5. Don't swerve.
You end up blocking runners behind you. It's not cool.

6. Move to the side if someone wants to pass.
If you hear someone say, "excuse me" or "on your left/right", they are being courteous in letting you know they are about to pass you. Don't block their effort. It's rude.

7. Yield the course to wheelchair athletes.
You can change direction faster than they can, especially on a hill.

8. Don't block the table at the water station.
If you need to stop at the station, get off the course. Otherwise, make eye contact with the volunteer, point at the cup in their hand, and they will gladly bring it towards you as you keep moving, albeit slower. Don't forget to thank them. They are not getting paid, and they are taking care of you.

9. Don't stop at the finish line.
There is usually a chute you run through. Keep going, slowing your pace until you are walking. This prevents a bottleneck.

10. Congratulate EVERYONE.
Some people are faster than others, but everyone woke up early that morning, put their shoes on, and ran with you. Everyone did their best. Everyone finished with their heads held high, from the first finisher to the last. And everyone loves a "Good Job!" and a high five.

Running an official event should be fun.

These simple "rules of engagement" keeps it fun for everyone.


*Official events may have actual rules but generally speaking, nothing is set in stone.

Your argument is invalid.

Some mornings I don't feel like going out for a run.

I work 3rd shift, and I've found that running early in the morning, while I'm still hyper is best. However, after a trying or stressful night, I find my gumption lacking. All I want to do is sit on the couch, unwind with mindless TV for 30 minutes and then go to sleep. Lacing up my shoes, preparing my gear, syncing my iPod, and going out for an hour or two when my body is just crying out for rest can be hard.

Times like this I remember Oscar Pistorius.

This man has no legs.*

This man qualified for the 2012 Olympics.

ANY excuse I can come up with for not pounding the pavement is invalid.

The End.





*"No legs" is poetic license. He does have legs. He is, though, a double below the knee amputee... who still beat out a ton of full legged athletes for a spot on his country's Olympic team. 

Eat the banana.

When I first started this endeavor, I realized I had a lot to learn. I wasn't naive enough to believe that running would be as simple as lacing up some bargain bin kicks and heading out the door. If it was that simple there would not be a need for coaches, and the like, right?

So I did what every armchair athlete would: I went to google and discovered this whole underground running culture. Well, it was underground to me at least...

Turns out "a lot to learn" was the understatement of a lifetime.

I had to learn about proper shoes for different running surfaces, I had to learn if I over or under pronated, I had to learn about pacing, distances, nutrition, hydration, race etiquette and countless other things. It was all very scientific; measurable, reproducible and dry.

I started to feel a little overwhelmed so I decided to take a different route. Once I got a small amount of knowledge I started to speak to actual runners. I'm talking about runners who've run official races and such. Their advice was the polar opposite. It was very common sense stuff and the advice differed from person to person. From brand of shoe, to type of race day gear, to diet.

I discovered that I just had to try a bit of everything to see what worked for me. It was the shotgun approach, but it worked and still works. I keep adapting as I continue my journey to improve. I try a new type of shoe, like it better and stick with it until its time for a replacement. Then I try something else. If it works better good, if not I go back to my old brand. Same goes for gear, food, apps, etc.

Now that I've got over a year of running and fumbling under my belt I find new runners asking me for advice as they start their own journey. What I usually tell them is the one constant piece of advice I received from every source, and the one that has proven itself to be true time and time again:

Eat the banana.

When you're done with your run, eat a banana.

When you hit the snack table at the finish of a race, choose and eat the banana.

I can provide you with the scientific reasons why you'll need the potassium, but all you really need to know is that it's a low calorie, filling snack that will give you quick energy and help your legs not hurt the next day.

So ya, just eat the banana.