Pain-Enforced Rest

It’s been a month to the date since I last ran. November 21 was the date of the Philadelphia Marathon and Half Marathon, the latter of which I ran. It was great fun. The weather was almost perfect: sunny, with temperatures in the upper 30s or low 40s. Although I had some trepidation going into it, the energy of the mass off other runners made the experience exhilarating. As I had done during the Broad Street Run, I ran without music, and I didn’t miss it at all.

Unfortunately, the week before the race, I ended my last training run with pain and weakness in my left ankle. I spent the week wearing an ankle brace (which I also wore during the race), but I knew that I was going to have to take a few weeks off to let my ankle heal. I also made a trip to the orthopedist, who prescribed physical therapy.

I’m happy about the physical therapy, though. I’ve learned that, in many cases, running injuries can be prevented with the right combinations of exercise, stretching, rest, and so on. I’m hoping that what I learn in PT will forestall at least some future injuries.

The orthopedist also recommended that I wait until I’ve gone two weeks pain-free before running again. At that time, I’ll need to spend a little while running on soft surfaces, like a local track or a treadmill. For me, two weeks will end Sunday, and you can bet I’ll be running again next week!

Longer and longer runs

In advance of the Philadelphia Half Marathon, my long runs have been getting longer and longer. All along, my plan has been to increase my total weekly mileage by 10% each week. The increase has been coming on my long run, for which my goal is to run 20% more than the the half-marathon distance (13.1 miles) the week before the race.

Training for Philadelphia's Broad Street Run in the spring, I had increased my long runs to 10 miles. I'd wanted to go further, but I didn't start early enough to increase my mileage safely. This time, though, I planned better than before. During the previous two weekends, I've run 11 and then 12 miles. During the next two, I plan to run 14 and then 16. Barring schedule conflicts, I run two four-mile runs on the weekdays.

The last two runs have been among my most difficult. On the Saturday before last, I woke up later than I'd planned, and, constrained by a tight schedule, went straight from the bed to Forbidden Drive. To suggest that I was unprepared psychologically for the run is an understatement: within the first five minutes, I was already thinking about how long the run was going to be (i.e., interminable). Nor did my attitude improve appreciably during the course of the run. By the time I reached mile 6, I was asking myself why I ever signed up to run the half-marathon in the first place. Unfortunately, hanging it up midway through the run was not an option. The best thing I can say about the run is that I finished.

This past Saturday's run went better, but it was not without its difficulties either. I left from my house and took a route I'd not followed before, running about a mile-and-a-half to the woods at the top of the Wissahickon Valley. I then followed the trail that led down to Forbidden Drive, where I planned to run the middle eight miles of my run. I felt much better about this run. The first four miles went well, and I the third and fourth miles rather hard--too, hard, in fact, for so early in the run. Unfortunately, I had eaten a big lunch, and by mile five, it was coming back to haunt me. Again, I found myself around mile 7 or 8 puzzling over why I had ever committed myself to undertaking a half marathon.

Nevertheless, the route I had chosen offered a number of psychological advantages that made the last four miles easier. I turned around at Bells Mill Road to return home; the very familiarity of the route helped me to bolster my attitude. I then made my way up Valley Green Road--slowly, to be sure, but with no sense that exhaustion was waiting to overtake me. Finally, upon reaching the top of the hill, I resumed a normal pace and continued it (with a couple of walk breaks) until I reached the 12-mile point.

Still, this was a run about which I felt much better in retrospect than during the course of the run. I shouldn't have eaten so much hours before the run, nor should I have run so hard in the early stages. Although I didn't feel tired while I was running, when I stopped running at mile 12, I was surprised at how exhausted I felt. I learned a lesson about pacing, and I gained some confidence not only for the 14- and 16-mile training runs I have coming up but also for my performance on race day.

Another Evening in Chestnut Hill

The shortening days have forced me to take to the streets for my weekday runs, and I have to get them in after dark. On Tuesday evening, I ran through Mt. Airy, following Ardleigh Street to where it intersected with Washington Avenue.

Unfortunately, as I started out I was unaware that the outbound trip from my house is downhill, so I wasn't prepared for the return trip. I made it, of course, and completed my four miles on streets close to my house. I also ran without walk breaks, so the run seemed particularly arduous. Even my time wasn't very good by my already low standards: I ran at a roughly 11'15" pace.

East Mt. Airy, alas, has fewer wide residential streets than the adjacent neighborhood, Chestnut Hill. On Thursday evening, then, I decided to run from my house through Chestnut Hill. Furthermore, I planned out my run so that most of it would be on asphalt rather than on the concrete sidewalks.

I ran at an even slower pace than two evenings before. I did take walk breaks, but I also had not slept well the previous two nights. I also forgot to wear my reflective vest, so I was more nervous about cars. It was, nevertheless, a great evening for a run, and I was happy to get out. And, notwithstanding my slower pace, the run did help me to alleviate some stress. In short, it was one of those runs that made me feel good about running.

Crazy Eight

One of the great advantages of using a running GPS is that it obviates the needs to plan out one's run too carefully. This morning, faced with some tight constraints on my time (due to my failure to begin my run earler), I knew that was going to have to lop off the more time-consuming parts of my usual long-run ritual. In my case, this is the drive to and from the parking lot above Valley Green. Instead, I knew that I was going to need to run from the moment I left my front door. Fortunately, my GPS made it possible for me to gauge my distance.

Today's run, then, took me from my house, through Chestnut Hill, down Valley Green Road, onto the orange and white trails, to Forbidden Drive, and back. I'd avoided this course until now and would have continued to do so had I other options. Indeed, not having consulted a map beforehand, I nevertheless had intended to find a path to Forbidden Drive with a less strenuous route back. Instead of taking the fork from Springfield Avenue to Valley Green Road, I followed Springfield through a neighborhood until the road dumped me out onto Valley Green Road. From there, I realized that my best shot at hitting Forbidden Drive would be to continue downhill.

Still, I avoided a direct route to Forbidden Drive. Instead, I got onto the orange trail and then onto the white trail (which runs above the orange trail) before it once again meets the orange trail. When I reached the first Rex Avenue bridge, I crossed over to Forbidden Drive and followed it out to Bell's Mill Road.

When I turned around, I became aware that I was going to be able to get my eight miles in if I returned roughly the way I came. This would mean, however, that I would have to ascend the hill from Valley Green Inn to the junction with Springfield Avenue. I adjusted my strategy accordingly: instead of taking one-minute walk breaks every three minutes as I had been doing, I reduced the time between breaks to two minutes. And, sure enough, I was able to make it up the hill comfortably. From there, I continued home, completing eight miles far enough out that the walk home would give me the opportunity to get my heart rate down to close to 100 bpm.

Runs like these build confidence. I now know that running up the hill from Valley Green is not so daunting. Of course, it helped that the temperature was in the high 50s or low 60s with low humidity. Yet I believe a more important factor contributing to the success of my uphill climb was the slower pace that I took. By resisting the urge to run too fast up the hill, I was able to conquer it. Perhaps I even learned a lesson about pacing in the process.

Tennessee Run

Over the weekend, I went to Tennessee to attend a reunion for my high school class. I stayed with a friend, John, who is also a runner; in fact, he's going to come to run the Philadelphia half-marathon with me in November. Needless to say, he was also up for a training run.

This past week, I ran fifteen miles, of which eight were logged during yesterday's run. We had great weather: temperatures in the low to mid 70s and slight amount of humidity. John figured out an eight-mile course through his neighborhood, which, as you can see from the map, lies on a peninsula jutting out into Old Hickory Lake outside of Nashville.

This run was unusual in two respects. First, I've rarely run with someone else (except during a race). Instead, John and I ran together for the first six miles. My pace was slightly slower than usual, partly because I wanted to conserve my resource in order to finish eight miles; I also wanted to maintain a pace that made it possbile to carry on a conversation. This made the run all the more pleasant.

The run was also unusual in that I took no walk breaks for the first six miles. Nevertheless, my time for these miles was comparable to that for running with walk breaks. When I finally did take walk breaks, in the last two miles, my pace was significantly slower, probably because I hadn't been able to conserve enough resources to prior to the seventh mile.

At this point, I'll probably continue to run my short runs without walk breaks. I do run four miles faster without walk breaks than with them. Yet for the longer runs, the walk breaks pay off over the course of the entire run.

Evening on the Wissahickon

This evening I arrived home early enough to get in a four-mile run along Wissahickon Creek. As fall approaches, this is of course harder and harder to do on a “school night.” Still, today was one of those days in which I would have hated not to get in a run: temperature in the low 70s with low humidity. And while an evening run under such conditions can be pleasant, to run through the woods in the daylight is yet more gratifying.

Or at least it should be. Tonight, for the first time, I tripped and fell on the Orange Trail. I wasn’t hurt badly: I scraped up the palm of my right hand and incurred a few minor cuts. More importantly, though, I was reminded of the need to remain attentive to the path when running on the trail. Fact is, there are still too many times that I almost trip or otherwise injure myself while trail running. Spills like these remind me that I am not invincible.  (Yes, I know I’m not, but I don’t spend a lot of time pondering the fact.)

Anyway, it looks as if I’ll have no trouble getting in my miles this week. It’s always easier to find time to run on weekends, so with eight miles under my belt thus far, I’m looking forward to getting in 14 for the week.

Getting the Miles Up

I’ve not blogged in a while, but I’ve been continuing to run. Still, I have been running a little less of late—about 10 miles per week instead of the 18 I was doing earlier in the summer. Since I’m running the Philadelphia Half-Marathon on November 21, it’s time for me to get serious about getting my miles up.

In the winter and spring, as I trained for the Broad Street Run, I was able to get my miles up in the mornings, thanks to a work schedule that enabled me to go in later two or three day a week. Unfortunately, we changed our schedules around, so, if I’m going to run in the morning, I must wake up at 5:30. Thus far, all efforts to recalibrate my body clock have failed: I can’t seem to fall asleep until between 11 p.m. and midnight.

This also means that I’m going to have to run in the evenings. The Wissahickon Valley, alas, is therefore unavailable to me during the week, so I must, as they say, take to the streets.

Tonight, I made a virtue of necessity—actually necessities—and, taking advantage of a trip to return books to the Chestnut Hill branch of the Philadelphia Free Library, used that location as my point of departure for a night-time run through West Chestnut Hill. I had one of the most enjoyable runs that I ever had on streets.

Running at night in Chestnut Hill, I became aware of two types of neighborhood streets: those that have almost no traffic and those that are wide enough for the small amount of two-way traffic to coexist with runners. Since I resolutely refuse to run on concrete (that is, sidewalks), I was happy to find that I could run the entire distance safely without having to leave the pavement.

This is not to suggest, of course, that tonight’s run was without challenges. Although the humidity was moderate, the temperature was in the low 80s. Given that I’d not as regularly in the last few weeks as I would have liked, I also found that I was exerting a bit more effort to run four miles than I should have expected. This might not be too surprising, though: the first 2.4 miles were downhill, while the last 1.6 miles went back up.  Had I known this, perhaps I would have started at the 2.4 mile point (by Springside).

All in all, I had a good run. While I seldom run on pavement, I’m afraid that this will be my only option on weekdays through the fall and winter. If my knee doesn’t complain, I’ll be fine.

After a hiatus...

Over the past few weeks, a crazy schedule and insomnia have conspired to keep me from running. Today, however, everything worked out so that I could get up early and run. (The insomnia had precluded the morning runs.) Indeed, it works best for me to run early (although I'd prefer to run later), so perhaps I'm now in a position to get a rhythm going. The time off did give my right knee, which had been bothering me some, a needed rest.

Not having run in almost two weeks, I decided to limit myself to a four-mile run today. This also gave me an opportunity to depart from my usual six-mile course--down Forbidden Drive toward Lincoln drive, with about two miles on the orange trail--and to return to a segment of the orange trail I hadn't run much.

I arrived at Valley Green at 6 a.m. The temperature was around 80, and the air was humid--all the more reason to take it a bit easier. This time I headed towards Northwestern Avenue. When I reached the first bridge, about a mile out at Rex Avenue, I switched to a part of the orange trail that I've only run three or four times. It was nice to return to the trail, but I also realized that I'd have to pay attention to the ground in front of me--something that I had been doing without thinking before the hiatus. Nevertheless, I found the return to the trail mildly exhilarating.

Still, in the spirit of taking it easy, I only followed the trail as far as the covered bridge at Thomas Mill Drive. From there, I returned to Forbidden Drive, and followed it out to Bells Mill Road.

During the return leg of my run, it began to sprinkle. I've had few chances to run in the rain this year, because we've not had that much. I was hoping the rain would increase, but, alas, it soon petered out. Nevertheless, I finished my run just glad to be back out on the roads and trails.

Back to the Treadmill

I had planned to run early this morning, but, for the third time in four days, I awoke with a bad headache. When I began to feel better, life kicked in: hauling kids hither and yon and the like. Given that we were under a heat advisory, i decided to return to the gym and to run on the treadmill.

Today's was also my first run in a week. I don't usually plan for a running hiatus, yet I also won't allow myself to go more than a week without running. I've read that after 10 days, one begins losing aerobic fitness (or capacity or whatever), so after too many days without a run, I'm usually motivated to get back to it.  Still, a hiatus gives those parts of the musculoskeletal system that experience the most stress a rest, and that can't be a bad thing.

Before running, I did 25 crunches--my usual these days, although I need to start increasing the number to 30--and I could tell that I was pushing the muscles more than they were expecting.  This is what a one-week hiatus will do.

Unlike my last time on the treadmill, I worked walk breaks into my run this time. I was able to go six miles a bit more comfortably than the last time, but I also took longer. Still, I maintain that one benefit of running on a treadmill is that it allows me to measure how I'm doing. It also makes it possible to set speed goals that can be achieved by changing the machine's settings. So, I have a new goal: I'm going to attempt to finish my six-mile run on the treadmill in one hour. I set this goal hoping for a payoff in speed when I hit the trails again.

Just Missed It!

The rain, that is. When I woke up, it was raining, so I was looking forward to running in it. I realized that it's been months since I'd run in the rain. In fact, we've had far less rain this year than last. The weather forecast called for the rain to continue throughout the day, so I planned to get in a mid-afternoon run.

Unfortunately, by the time I arrived at Forbidden Drive, the rain had subsided, the sun had reappeared, the humidity rose, and the weather forecasters gleefully admitted that their prediction had been mistaken. I was left to run on a muddy trail and without the benefit of extra cooling assistance.

Due perhaps to the humidity or to sleep deprivation, I ran more slowly than usual. While I'd intended to take fewer walk breaks when I arrived at the orange trail, I found that I needed them more. As I've noted before, though, perhaps I push myself too hard when I'm running on the trails.

The duration of my run coincided almost exactly with that of Pierre-Laurent Aimard's recording of Ligeti solo piano music. For me, this is near-perfect running music. I note, too, that upon arriving at a particularly steep part of the trail, the track that happened to be playing was "L'escalier du diable"--"The Devil's Staircase." From now on, I know that I'll know that stretch as such.

A Nice Reality Check

Due to a confluence of factors, one of which was the high heat and humidity, I retreated to the treadmill to get my run in today--or, really, tonight. I've not run on the treadmill for several months, so tonight's run provided me a good opportunity to get a better sense of how fast I'm running under controlled conditions.

As has been usual for me lately, I ran six miles. I wanted to see how fast and how well I could run without walk breaks. I began running at a 12-minute-mile pace and, in three-minute increments, sped up to a 10-minute-mile pace.

I was pleased that I was able to sustain the 10-minute-mile pace for about 25 minutes.  At this speed, I'm able to run at the top of my aerobic zone, which corresponds to a heart rate of about 165 bpm. At three miles, I boosted the speed once again to a 9'40" /mile pace, which I maintained for a mile.  Yet this pace was a strain for me.  I began to feel that sickening feeling one gets when overexerting oneself, so, at the four-mile point, I walked for about two minutes before resuming at a 12-minute pace and, over the next two miles, stepping up to a 10-minute mile pace.

What did I learn? I think that the breaks probably could have helped me maintain the 9'40"/mile pace for a greater proportion of my run: in fact, I probably could maintain a faster pace with periodic walk breaks. I need to play with the math, but I think I can bring increase my overall speed with more walk breaks.

One other advantage of running on the treadmill is that it enables me to measure more accurately how I'm doing. I have gotten faster since the beginning of the year: probably about a minute/mile faster.  But I also know that I'll probably gain about another minute/mile when I drop all the weight I need to lose.  And here's hoping that the heat drops enough in the next few days to make running outside viable again.

Lessons Not Quite Learned

The high heat that we were expecting arrived yesterday, but the humidity won't arrive until today. We'll be seeing temperatures near 100 over the next few days, so I'll be constrained to running as close to 6 AM as I can.  This morning, then, I took the opportunity to get in one more run before the heat hits with its full force.

After Saturday's somewhat unsatisfying run on the yellow trail, I returned to the orange trail. One of the reasons I like the route that I've found is that it's easy to get in a six-mile run--not 5.75 or 6.3 or something like that.  Familiarity, too, pays psychic benefits when the heat or the humidity get too high.

I did not, however, do a good job of pacing myself today. I ran too hard early in my run, and I continued running hard when I got on the orange trail. Consequently, the first part of the run was less pleasant than it could have been. In fact, not until about the last third of my run did I begin to run comfortably, but that was the easy, downhill portion of the course. Note to self: focus more on pacing the next time you run the orange trail.

I did encounter four other runners on the orange trail. I'm surprised, in fact, that I see so few runners out there, even on weekends. It's nice to know that I'm not the only one using the trail for running.

Recovery run

After yesterday's disastrous attempt at a run, I needed a real run to help me keep my motivation up. I didn't need a great run; I only needed one to remind me that I'm capable of achieving at least modest goals.

I got to Forbidden Drive a little later than usual for a morning run. The air was warm but dry, so I had no concerns about beating the heat. Today, though, I planned to alter my routine. Instead of running the orange trail, I decided to run the yellow trail. I planned, then, to run about 2.5 miles on Forbidden Drive and to follow a side trail up the hill to the yellow trail. Then I would take the yellow trail back to Valley Green (or farther).

Everything went according to plan. I note, though, that I don't find it as hard to run the yellow trail in the last half of my run as I do running the orange trail at that point. As I suggested in an earlier post, it seemed to me that running the orange trail at the end of run posed a greater challenge because I have less energy at that point. Now, however, I'm beginning to think that the differences are purely psychological. 

The yellow trail does seem to be rockier than the orange trail, and, unlike the latter, is open to bicycles. About a half-dozen cyclists passed me during my run, and they exhibited varying degrees of trail etiquette. One alerted me to a cyclist coming behind him; another nearly ran me off the path.

I also had some near spills. Was this due to the rocky path or carelessness or both? I don't know. I've never had this problem on the orange trail.

At this point, I'm thinking ahead to my next run. Since I have Monday off, I'll run that morning. By midweek, the high heat and humidity will return. Perhaps it will be time to retreat indoors for some speedwork on a treadmill.

Ugh. I Got Lost. Again.

This has not been a good running week for me. I ran on Tuesday, before the heat wave lifted. While I had planned to run on Thursday, I woke up feeling too tired to get in a run without risking drowsiness at the office, so I went back to sleep. Today, I missed the alarm and woke up too late to run in the morning. My alternative: run in the evening.

Once again, I was foiled in my attempts to follow the white trail on the stretch running between Mt. Airy Avenue and Valley Green. I was surprised, though, because I had purchased the most recent map available of the trails in the Wissahickon Valley. According to the map, I should have been able to access the white trail going towards Valley Green from Mt. Airy Avenue, but , when I arrived there, I saw no indications of where the trail entrance was. I did, however, spot a cyclist going onto another trail on the same side, so I followed him. And, soon enough, I was on the white trail.

The white trail, it turns out, was rockier and and contained more hills than I had imagined. That wasn't a problem: I'd only need to adjust my running accordingly. The problem arose, though, when, following what I had thought was the trail, I ended up on a paved road leading back toward the creek. I followed the road and then found myself on the part of the orange trail where I didn't want to be.  So, I took the orange trail over the unrunnable parts and headed towards Valley Green.

Getting lost like this stresses me out, so I tend to run faster and to exhaust myself too quickly. Yet the psychological hit is greater. Physically, I could go on, but mentally the run seemed like a near-lost cause. Further, I had forgotten the knee strap that I wear on my right leg, so I was concerned about injuring my knee if I ran too much. So, at Valley Green, I turned back, headed down Forbidden Drive, and back up Mt. Airy Ave. to my car.

The silver lining? Well, I don't know if there is one. I'm going to back off on figuring the white trail for a while and stick to trails with which I've become familiar. I am planning to break my routine and to run tomorrow, but that's only because I'm not really counting today's run.  But the next run better be good.

The End of the Heat Wave

Today the heat wave that had been over us for the last few days came to an end. Unfortunately, this did not happen in time for my morning run: the temperature was in the high 70s, and the humidity was rather high as well. When I walked out my front door, I instantly could tell that the conditions weren't pleasant, but, still, the air felt better than on Sunday morning.

This morning's hot weather, then, reminded me to approach my run conservatively, and I'm glad I did. I arrived at Forbidden Drive and immediately began paying close attention to my pacing. I began running two-minute intervals with one-minute walk breaks, but, by the end of the first mile, when I reached the orange trail, I shifted to three-minute intervals. Even when I hit the orange trail, I found myself more relaxed than I had been: this was going to be one of those runs that, notwithstanding the heat, left me feeling good about running.

Perhaps, too, the orange trail is becoming easier for me as I become more familiar with it. I still don't find myself taking in the sights: I'm wary of taking my eyes off the ground in front of me for more than a split second. Watching the ground does afford me the opportunity to catch sight of a lot of chipmunks. If only I could convince them that I'm not a predator, regardless of how strong the vibrations my feet cause when they hit the ground seem to them.

Usually while I'm running the orange trail, I encounter four or five people walking their dogs, but today I only saw one. Was the heat keeping the others away? 

At any rate, it seemed that the humidity had been lifting during the course of my run. Yes, I was soaked as I had been the last few runs, but the last part of my run seemed even easier than I'm accustomed to.

Thursday, the weather will be cooler and dryer. That may be the time for me to explore some other trails.

Keeping Moving

This morning I needed only to walk out the door to find that the weather forecasters weren't kidding when they predicted high heat and humidity. Yet the purpose of getting an early start, I had believed, was to beat the heat. Given that it was hotter than hell in the afternoon, then it was probably as hot as hell in the morning. But at 7:30 AM?

I began my run intending to follow the same route as Friday. Yet after about 15 minutes on the orange trail, a pebble that had gotten into my right shoe was bothering me so much that I had to stop and get it out. At that moment, I realized how hot I was, how much I was sweating, and how motion was helping to keep me cool. I decided, then, to cut my run back to five instead of six miles. I would get onto a path to take me to the first bridge over the Wissahickon after Lincoln Drive (travelling in the direction of Valley Green). Now all I had to do was to find the path.

I took a fork onto a path that I thought was the correct one, but I was wrong. Instead, the path took me back to the orange trail. Fortunately, I was close to the point where the orange trail empties out into Rittenhouse Town, so I resumed my normal course.

The remainder of my run on Forbidden Drive was physically and psychologically easier. Yet I realized that, even with what I had thought was a conservative strategy--that is, staying on a familiar path--was not sufficient for a comfortable run in weather as hot as this morning's. No, I probably would have been better off if I'd limited my run to four miles. Sometimes, less is more.

To a Chipmunk, I Am Bigfoot

As I ran on the orange trail yesterday, I was struck by a number of things I'd not noticed before about trail running.

First, running on the trial seemed to provide me a (slightly?) more rigorous workout than running on Forbidden Drive. The terrain on the trail varies far more than on the Drive: instead, for example, of long steady ascents where I can set a pace and maintain it for several minutes, the trail requires me to be more attentive to my pace--that is, to listen to my body. Running the trail, then, is changing how I think about my running while I'm doing it.

Second, I've come to understand why it can be easier to start my run on the trail rather than to finish it there. If, as I did this past Wednesday, i run the trail after already having run three "easy" miles, I find that, after a mile on the trail, the amount of effort I have to make increases noticeably. This may be a result partly of taking advantage of the easier part of the run and expending too much energy. And while I'm capable of running such a course--easy first, then hard--the psychological game becomes more challenging. I want my runs to remain enjoyable; if my is not to develop mental toughness (which has its place!), then it's better for me to run the more difficult part of the course early.

Third, running on the trail forces me not only to pay close attention to the ground itself but also to be careful about the split-second decisions I have to make about speed. The first, easy, lesson I learned was that I could only look at my heart monitor when I had a smooth stretch before me. Otherwise, I had to keep my eyes fixed on the trail. IAt some points, even more attentiveness is necessary, for example, when encountering a particularly rocky segment or one through which run many tree roots. The greatest challenge comes from running on rock formations, especially when these are slippery as a result of a recent rain. I ask myself, do I run these or not? If I choose to run, I know I have to be extremely focused and to think about every point where my foot will next hit the ground.

Fourth, I wonder if running as narrow a path as the trail contributes to my sense of balance. On much of the trail, I don't have the luxury of a seemingly endless flat surface beneath and on either side of me, so that if I, say, lose my balance, I can easily recover without going off-course. Not that I lose my balance, but perhaps the subconscious neural mechanism that  regulates this sort of thing gets more of a workout.

Fifth, and finally, as I've watched small forest critters dart across my path, I've come to understand that, to a chipmunk, I am the Sasquatch.

Successful Loop

Today we experienced some relief from the humidity of the last few days. Thunderstorms yesterday afternoon preceded some drier air. Or, at least, that's what the weather folks were saying. If this were the case, I couldn't tell this morning. If anything, the air felt more humid then on Wednesday morning. But perhaps last year's mild summer spoiled me.

After Wednesday's run, during which I found finishing with the trail to be slightly more taxing than beginning on it, I decided that I'd get on the trail early. I headed towards Lincoln Drive on Forbidden Drive and, at the first bridge, crossed over to the orange trail. I also took advantage of the path that led to the Monastery House parking lot: this is a lot less steep then the orange trail at the same point, and it allows one to trudge up the hill without losing too much energy.

Due to yesterday's rain, the trail was damper than I'd seem it lately. This wasn't a problem, although I think I probably exercised more caution while running on the rocks. I was surprised to find so many people out with their dogs so early, but I was more surprised to encounter no other runners on the trail.

I found that I paced myself more successfully today than of late. While the beginning of the run seemed more difficult than usual--and I was running at a slower pace--I soon found myself becoming more comfortable. I also experimented with taking fewer walk breaks today, and I seem to have made time as a result.

I feel that I'm now as comfortable running the route I took today as if I had been running the entire time on Forbidden Drive. My familiarity with the trail continues to increase, and I hope that my ability to run the trail will also increase.

Beating the Heat

We're in the midst of hot, muggy weather. Highs are near record levels, and the National Weather Service has issued heat advisories. In such conditions, what's a runner to do? Some options that are available to me include taking a few weeks to acclimate, running early in the day before the air gets too warm, and running indoors on a treadmill. This morning I chose the second of these, heading out to Forbidden Drive at 6:30 for a six-and-a-quarter-mile run.

One of my goals today was to run the orange trail from Lincoln Drive towards Valley Green (rather than the other way). I succeeded in this, finally, but not without encountering a few hitches. When I reached Rittenhouse Town, the area where one catches the trails, I had trouble finding the entrance, even though I had exited the trail at this point several times. There's a gate at the exit, but I had to look for it. Finding it, I realized how simple it is to get onto the trail: there's a gravel path leading to the entrance, but I'd never paid attention to exactly where it was when i had been running it previously.

I also took a wrong fork that turned out to lead me to a welcome discovery. As had occurred on a less successful run a few weeks ago, I found myself at the parking lot by near the Monastery House and Stables. This time, I followed a wide,  rocky trail down to what I discovered was the bridge near what had been a baptismal pool for Seventh-Day Adventists long ago. (This is the bridge that is about two miles south by southeast of Valley Green, that is, two miles in the direction of Lincoln Drive.) This trail, which provides a way to get back to the orange trail, is much less steep than the orange trail at the same point. Ascending the orange trail at this point requires a lot of power, and, when running it, I found myself walking the top part of the ascent.

So my knowledge of the orange trail continues to grow. I am somewhat surprised that I'm only familiar with the trail in one direction--towards Lincoln Drive. Running the opposite direction, especially along the segment from Lincoln Drive to the Baptismal Pool, is close to running on terra incognita.  I also found, perhaps due to the heat, that running the trail is more strenuous than I had imagined. Usually I had been running the trail outbound, so I had more energy. Running inbound, though, I found more taxing.  But I suppose familiarity and running longer distances will help me meet the trail's challenges.

Unnecessary Risks

This morning, I intended to make my first intentional run on the white trail. I had run a portion of the white trail once before when I had gotten lost, but I embarked on today's run with more confidence than the last time I had been on the trail.

I began my run from the point where the white trail (and the green trail) intersect with the road to Valley Green. The initial part of the run was uphill, but, starting out, I felt good. I trotted up the hill at a relaxed pace. Unfortunately, about a minute into the run I encountered some cyclists flying down the hill and over the humps in the path with an annoying bravado. I'd like to think--though I know it's not really the case--that there's something intrinsically humble about running, and that something stands opposed to the alleged arrogance of cyclists on the trail. I'd like to think that, but I know I'm only providing a feeble rationalization for my annoyance.

All was going well as I approached the top of the hill, and then the unexpected happened: I encountered a clearing from which I could discern no continuation of the white trail. So I took a wild guess, followed something that looked like a trail, and wound up at a dead end. I attempted to find my way onto an "official" trail, and, in a short time found myself on the part of the orange trail that, just a few days before, I had learned was largely unrunnable.

I can often handle setbacks like these if the conditions are right. Unfortunately, today it was hot and humid, and I was frustrated. To make matters worse, at least psychologically, my GPS/heart monitor kept alerting me that my heart rate was too high (it wasn't, but I'd not turned the alerts off since the last time I used it when working out on a stationary bike). So, about a mile into my run, I reached the bridge that took me back to Forbidden Drive, which I caught and followed back to Valley Green.

What lesson do I take from today's run?  The psychological challenges of running in heat humidity, I think, call for taking few if any risks. If I'm to have successful runs on such days, I need to stick with what I know.

Evening run

These days it's unusual for me to run in the evening, but I did so yesterday. I arrived at Valley Green around 6:30 p.m. for a run on the orange trail towards Lincoln Drive and back to Valley Green along Forbidden Drive.

At this time of the year, sunset is well after 8:30, so I considered running the outbound on Forbidden Drive and returning on the trail. After all, I've still not run the complete stretch of the red trail from Lincoln Drive towards Valley Green yet. Nevertheless, the sun was low, and the Wissahickon Valley was getting dark, so I decided to put off the return trip until another time.

For the first time, I had to contend with a lot of cyclists. Although bicycles are prohibited on most of the orange trail, as one approaches Lincoln Drive, multiple trails share the same paths. I found myself dodging the bicycles as they flew past, seemingly without regard for other users of the trail. Perhaps, too, the time of day contributed to the amount of traffic on the trails. With a short amount of time between work and sunset, a higher number of people may want to use the trails than at any given time during the weekend.

Still, I had a nice run, and I can tell that my familiarity with the trail is increasing, if for no other reason than that I'm mentally recording spans I hadn't recalled from previous runs. I also enjoy running in the early evening: doing so helps me to wind down and relax after a day at the office.  (Morning runs also have a salutary effect, but they usually affect my attitude going into the office.)  Perhaps in coming weeks I can take more advantage of the long summer days.

Rocks and Fallen Trees

Sometimes I tell people that the reason I run is that I hate to let a nice day go to waste. Today was one of those days. The temperature this morning was slightly above 70, the humidity was lower than it had been in four or five days, and the sky was a clear, bright blue. With conditions like these, I would have needed an excuse not to run.

I had one, of course, but I didn't use it. I slept poorly last night, so I was tempted to scrap the run altogether. Perhaps I would have taken advantage of the excuse had the air been hot and humid, but, instead, I settled for a conservative running strategy. I decided to limit my run to four miles, but, as compensation, I also cut back on the frequency of walk breaks. I had been wanting to determine how much the breaks had been affecting my time anyway.

Today I took what will probably turn out to be one of my preferred four-mile routes. I ran down Forbidden Drive toward Lincoln Drive, turned around at two miles, crossed over the bridge to the orange trail, followed the trail for a mile, and then returned to Forbidden Drive. I ran the entire course in 41:38, that is, at a 10:15/mile pace. I took less frequent walk breaks, but I did stop for about a minute to ... well ... trails offer some distinctive conveniences, now, don't they?

I've found that the segment of the orange trail I ran today is marginally easier to run in the opposite direction than I went today. In particular, there are some rock formations that are easier to ascend than to descend. In the latter case, a runner faces the peril of losing her footing, and the same gravity that extracts power from those who resist it--that same gravity stands ready to bring the runner crashing down.

I'm finding, too, that the trails contain some unavoidable nuisances that force one to break the run: fallen trees. While it's possible to jump over some of them, others force one to crouch down and pass underneath. But such is the character of trail running.

Shoes 2010 Edition

In one of my previous lives--the one right after college, to be precise--I earned a master's degree in engineering mechanics. At the time, a small group within my department studied biomechanics; but I, having more of a theoretical and computational bent as well as more than enough naiveté, then had little interest in an area so dependent on experimental research. It was only years later, long after I had left the field, that I came to appreciate, and even envy, what my biomechanical friends had been doing. After all, without their like, I'm not sure that the running shoes that I need would exist.

This past Saturday, I replaced my running shoes, Mizuno Wave Nirvanas, with a new pair of Mizuno Wave Alchemy shoes. The old pair probably had between 500 and 600 miles on them, all logged in the last 11 months. They were my first "real" pair of running shoes, although recognizing that doesn't suggest that I'm sentimentally attached to them (I'm not). But they served me well for a year. They weren't perfect, but they were far more than adequate.

When I began running last year, I headed to a large sporting goods chain to buy a pair of shoes. That was a big mistake. I picked up a pair of Asics running shoes (I forget which model), from which I removed the insoles and replaced them with custom orthotics that I'd been wearing for about 15 years. After less than three months of running, I was experiencing bad foot pain--probably plantar fasciitis--in my left foot. I was beginning to worry that my running career was coming to a young end. I visited a podiatrist who fitted me with new orthotics, but the new ones wouldn't even fit in my running shoes. Then, at a friend's suggestion, I started looking for new shoes.

After some research, I came to realize that feet even as flat as mine aren't that unusual and that, over the years, the engineers who develop shoes had designed footwear that addressed the issues raised by feet like the ones that dangle from the end of my legs. I also speculated that removing the orthotics that come with them defeats the design goals for the shoes. I headed to a local running store so that people who knew both running and feet could help my find a new pair.

I learned one more important thing that day at the running store: My problems were exacerbated, if not caused, by some serious flaws in my form. One of my first tasks, then, was going to be improve my form--basic stuff, but essential to running injury-free.

After trying several pairs, I settled on the Mizuno Wave Nirvana. I took some time to refine my choice, but this was too important to approach casually.

Still, the new shoes weren't perfect. I still had occasional problems with pain in the arch of my left foot, although I never experienced the sort of persistent pain that I'd encountered previously. This time, tehn, I decided that, rather than simply buying this year's model of the Wave Nirvana, I needed to return to a shoe store and go through the process again.

I'm glad that I did. While I tried on the Wave Nirvana--and it was even one of my finalists--I found that the Wave Alchemy provided more support for my arch. (I also discovered that the Mizuno shoes in general were more suited to my feet--or I was more accustomed to their design--that the Saucony and Brooks shoes that I tried. I suspect that this reflects variations in design philosophies among the various manufacturers.) The icing on the cake, I learned after making my decision, was that my new choice was about $30 cheaper than the runner-up. Still, the shoes felt similar enough to my old shoes that, on their maiden run yesterday, I hardly noticed a difference--except that I had no arch pain, and the new shoes did seem to absorb the shock of hitting the ground better than the old pair.

I don't know how long it will take me to run my next 500 miles, but, if all goes well, I may find myself in another pair of the same model next time around. And I'll have biomechanical engineers to thank.

Avoiding Injuries

Today I ran later than I would have liked. The weather has been hot and humid, so it would have been better for me to head out at 6 or 7 in the morning. Instead, I didn't run until about 11. While I didn't have a bad run, neither did I run as long or as far as I would have liked. The temperature was probably in the mid to high 80s, and, with the high humidity, discouraged me from trying anything new.

So I returned to the orange trail, and, specifically, to the route I followed last Tuesday. This proved to be a wise decision. Most of the my run was in the shade, although the partly cloudy skies limited the amount of direct sunshine anyway. A second benefit to running the orange trail today, though, was that it provided me an opportunity to deepen my familiarity with it. Indeed, at one point I encountered a fork in the trail. I took the right fork, but I didn't have to follow it far to discover that I was on a trail that seemed more difficult than I had remembered the orange being. I backtracked and discovered that, yes, I'd taken the wrong fork; I'd missed the marking on one of the trees that pointed in the right direction.

Trail running, I'm learning, presents its own set of advantages and disadvantages compared to running on other paths (such as Forbidden Drive). Although the surfaces are often soft, variations in the surface are myriad. I have to be constantly on the lookout for rocks and roots and small changes in the contour of the path. I've been reminded of this several times during my last few runs, when I have accidentally turned my foot inwards, pulling some set of ligaments, tendons, or muscles on the outside of my leg. I hope that injury isn't inevitable or statistically highly probable. Perhaps I need to be more vigilant.

Towards the end of my run, I began to notice how intense the combination of heat and humidity was. When I put on my sunglasses, which cover my eye sockets, I could feel the heat within the space between my eyes and the lenses, and wearing them actually became slightly uncomfortable. Yet the proof for me came after I stopped my run and walked over to the water fountain. Without the motion of the air against my skin, I noticed how my body had become a furnace. So it was probably for the best that I halted my run when I did.

Continued Trail Explorations

This morning I squeezed in a quick, short four-mile run. Since I was pressed for time, I wanted to try a new point of access to the orange trail and a new, as yet unexplored (by me, that is) segment.

I ran two miles out from Valley Green towards Lincoln Drive. On the return, I left Forbidden Drive for a bridge that took me to the other side of the creek and onto the orange trail.

I was pleased to discover, after having only run this segment of the trail only once before and in the opposite direction, that it already seemed familiar to me. The one-mile segment between bridges about one and two miles out from Valley Green is pleasant and easy to run.

Arriving by the bridge one mile out, though, I decided to continue on the orange trail back to Valley Green. Alas, this segment was not too runnable. The path is simply too rocky to run in places, and it also includes some steep, rocky steps. This portion of the trail is fine for hiking, but I can’t a rewarding run on it.

After completing the run, I once again consulted a map of the Wissahickon Valley. I saw that the white trail parallels the orange trail. Perhaps the white trail will make it possible for me to run on trails the entire length from Valley Green to Lincoln Drive, even if I switch back to the orange trail along the way.

Success on the Orange Trail

Today was a great day for a run. The heat and humidity of the past two weeks cleared out Sunday afternoon. The improved conditions therefore provided a more favorable atmosphere, both physically and psychologically, for achieving the success on the orange trail that had eluded me on Sunday.

After I arrived a Valley Green, I consulted a map to determine where I would get on the orange trail. In my previous run, I had noticed an entrance to a trail next to the bridge that's about a mile from Valley Green in the direction of Lincoln Drive. According to the map, this was the orange trail. I planned to catch it at that point, then, and to follow it out to Lincoln Drive, if possible.

Everything went according to my plans. I caught the orange trail a mile out and followed it until it emptied out at Lincoln Drive. While the trail had its share of rocky segments and tree roots, I found it to be much easier than I had anticipated. Yes, there were a few steep hills, but what was important to me is that the terrain was, in general, rather smooth.

Upon arriving at Lincoln Drive, I headed towards Forbidden Drive and then made the run back to Valley Green. I felt good, not just for having run, but also for getting a better sense of where the orange trail goes. Next time, I may attempt to run today's path in reverse. Stay tuned.

Trail Trouble

Today's run started a little off-key. After I had parked my car, I turned on my running GPS, and I discovered that the battery was so low that it turned off as soon as I acknowledge the message. Fine, I thought: this will force me to pay extra attention to what my body is telling me.
I had planned to run 2-1/2 miles on forbidden drive before following the yellow trail out as far as it would take me. At the parking lot, though, I took a fresh look at the map of the Wissahickon Valley. Here, for the first time, I saw the trails clearly marked on a map. The orange trail, I learned, extended roughly the entire length of Forbidden Drive, running parallel to it on the opposite side of the creek. The yellow trail, meanwhile, ran all the way from Main Street in Manayunk to Bell's Mill Road. With this new information, I began to consider revising my plans.
Instead of running out 2-1/2 miles towards Lincoln Drive, turning around, and then getting on the yellow trail, I ran all the way to Lincoln Drive. Having consulted one more map that was posted along the way, I decided that I'd run up to Rittenhouse Town and then catch the orange trail on the way back.
The problem was, it wasn't immediately clear to me where I could get on the orange trail. If I'd made the effort to study the map more carefully, I probably would have figured it out. As it happened, I decided to turn back the way I had come and to get to the orange trail from one of the side trails that I learned would lead to it.
The side trail did not welcome running: rocks and roots pervaded its narrow path, which dropped off steeply toward the river. I walked much of it until I reached the orange trail. Then the run became somewhat easier, at least temporary. I followed the trail until I reached a parking lot, whereupon I became confused. Where was I to get back on the orange trail? There were no signs, nor were there colored markings on the trees. I took a wild guess, and, after a little while, found myself on the white trail.
While the trail seemed easy, I had become discouraged. Usually I rely on the heart monitor function of my GPS to let me know how much effort I'm putting forth, but at this point, I was rather dispirited and therefore started walking, not really sure if my hard breathing were a result of normal exertion--as was most likely--or if I were really pushing myself too hard.
I followed the path to where a large cement pipe formed a bridge over rocky road running perpendicular to it. Suspecting that the road led back to Forbidden Drive, I crossed the bridge and made my way down the steep embankment to the road. Sure enough, I soon found myself on familiar ground: I was about a mile from Valley Green. I resumed my run and returned to my starting point.
So today's run did not go well. I did, however, check when I got home to see where I could get one of the maps of the Wissahickon that was posted by the parking lot. Perhaps more familiarity with the routes will prevent me from having some of the problems I had today.

Back on the Trail

This morning I headed out for my run a little earlier than usual for a weekday. This proved to be an advantage, because, although the temperature was in the mid-70s, the humidity was already rather high. I was surprised, six minutes into my run, how much I was already perspiring. Under such conditions, and because I haven't been running much in this kind of weather this year, I attempted to make this an easy run.

Well, easy to a point. My route this morning took me from Valley Green to Northwestern Avenue. From there, I headed up to Germantown Pike, over the bridge by Chestnut Hill College, and then onto the orange trail. I had hoped that, with 2-3/4 miles behind me, I would be better able to pace myself on the trail.

Again, I found the trail a bit difficult. Unlike the yellow trail, the orange trail has some rather extensive rocky stretches. (This may also explain why the trail is closed to cyclists.) The trail also contains quite a few more hills than I remember encountering on the yellow. Still, I'm hoping that familiarity will make the trail more manageable for me.

At the same time, I can clearly see the benefits of trail running: not only do the hills make for a more rigorous workout, but the unevenness of the trail enlists muscles that I might otherwise not use much. Perhaps I'll even get to a point where I manage the more challenging trails with slightly more ease.

On the Orange Trail

Today I returned to the orange trail. I’d run it a few weeks ago, but, learning from a friend that it’s not too difficult, I decided to give it a try again.

I took off from Valley Green and, after running about a mile, I arrived at the trail. At the beginning, I had to climb some steps, and thereafter the trail ascended a little further. I'm not sure if it really was easier than the portions of the yellow trail that I'd run: much of it I found to be rockier, so I spent much of the time focused on the trail itself.

Here, I think, may be one of the challenges I face when trail running. I seem to run harder on the trails than on easier paths like Forbidden Drive, perhaps because I'm paying more attention to the ground immediately in front of me than to my pace. Running the orange trail today also posed a special challenge, because it was unfamiliar to me.

I did follow the trail to where it ended over by Chestnut Hill College. When I arrived at Germantown Avenue, I headed towards Northwest Avenue and back onto Forbidden Drive. I can't say that I was tired, but I did wonder how I was going to make it back to my car over at Valley Green. Yet the return to familiar ground provided me the opportunity to recover and finish strong.

Now that I know where the orange trail begins and ends, I plan to run it in the other direction, that is from Chestnut Hill College towards the Valley Green. I hope that the two-and-a-half mile run will prepare me better for the return journey.

Success on the Yellow Trail

Okay. Now I think I may be getting the hand of this trail-running thing.

Today, I decided to return to the route that I took last week when I ran the yellow trail. The 2-1/2 miles towards Lincoln drive would keep me from hitting the trail too aggressively early in the run. Only then did I get on the yellow trail. I'd intended to follow it at least to where it would return me to Valley Green, if not farther. Because of time constraints, I went only as far as Valley Green.

The weather forecast was for muggy weather with a high in the low 90s. I knew that I was going to have to beat the heat if I wanted to have as good a run as I would have liked.

I was much more successful today. First, I ran the hills very conservatively, that is, slowly. I could tell that I was working muscles that I don't use that much when running on Forbidden Drive. While part of my run was rather taxing, I felt comfortable during most of the run.

Success breeds motivation. My next time out on the yellow trail, I hope to follow it farther. More significantly, today's was the most satisfying run that I've had in a couple of weeks.

Mastering the Trails

The title refers to a dream. At this point, the trails are mastering me. But I'm trying!

Yesterday, I decided to try running the course for the Wissachickon Trail Classic 2010, which takes place next weekend. I planned to take a successful traversal of the path as an indication of my readiness to run it. Alas, I was not successful.

I had downloaded the trail map to my running GPS in hopes that it would guide me on the unfamiliar route. Unfortunately, it turned out that I didn't know how to use this feature. As I began running on the route, I discovered that either was not providing the information I need: where to go. So, after a half-mile warm-up run along Forbidden Drive from Bell's Mill Road to Northwestern Avenue, I began another steep, exhausting ascent to ... well, who knows where. At that point, headed in the direction of Bell's Mill, found a sign pointing back to Forbidden Drive, and then headed that way.

I arrived at Forbidden Drive feeling too spent for so early in a run--I'd only covered a little more than a mile at that point. Still, I was determined to get a a few miles in, so I ran 2-1/2 miles from Bell's Mill, past Valley Green, and back. On the way back, I reduced the frequency of my walk breaks and found myself running my miles in between 9-1/2 and 10 minutes while keeping my heart rate in a comfortable zone.

As for more trail running: I plan to try again tomorrow. I'll run 2-1/2 miles out toward Lincoln Drive and then, sufficiently warmed up, will return to the Yellow Trail. I'll follow it further than I had before, even the entire course of the trail.

Learning the Trails

On Thursday morning, I traveled to Valley Green with my new interest in running the trails around the Wissahickon. The morning was unusually warm and humid for this time of the year. The temperature was probably in the mid-70s and the sky was clear. I had left the house without my sunglasses, but I also knew that I could run on the trails without them. I also arrived at Valley Green later than usual, so it was clear that I wasn't going to be able to get in a five-mile run. It also didn't help that I hadn't slept particularly well the night before.

I began enthusiastically--but, as it turned out, foolishly--by heading up a steep trail right by the Valley Green Inn on the Lincoln Drive side. Although I was trying to keep my pace down, it was clear that the sort of strenuous effort I was making was not what I wanted at the beginning of a run. In fact, at the 1'45" point, I started walking.

Soon enough, though, I reached a point where the trail was less steep, and I began running at a slightly more relaxed pace. Still, the humidity produced in me a sense of mild discouragement, and, although the run wasn't yet ten minutes old, I began to consider curtailing even this short run.

I did make some discoveries. I saw more of the yellow trail and discovered that it was even more extensive than I'd been aware. I also encountered some of the forks that the trail takes, and I made choices that I knew were to lead me to ... other discoveries?

After a little more than a mile, I found that I'd chosen a path that took me back to Forbidden Drive. At this point, though, I was already too discouraged to run on another trail when the opportunity presented itself. Instead, I continued my run on the familiar, less arduous path. Unusually for me, I didn't even push myself to get in four miles but, ended my run one tenth of a mile short.

Still, I think Thursday's run was anomalous. I plan to return to the trails on the weekend. I have much to explore.

Hitting the Trail

I began this morning's run intending to get in six miles, but it quickly became apparent that I wasn't going to be able to sustain a pace that would enable me to finish in time to get to the office when I needed to. Still, I began running at a pace that was on the fast side for me. It was, I think, a bit too fast, because, while my heart rate wasn't that high, it didn't take long for me to feel that my legs were working harder than I would have liked early in the run. I also made the mistake--at least, I think was a mistake--of running too fast at the beginning. Since I was running the stretch of Forbidden Drive from Valley Green to Lincoln Drive, this was especially problematic: the first 3/4 mile or so is uphill. (Fortunately, much of the next mile-and-a-half is downhill.)

Still, I focused on moderating my pace so that I could continue to feel comfortable running. As I approached the 2.5-mile point, I passed the entrance to one of the trails that takes one off Forbidden Drive and into the surrounding woods. A friend had once conveyed to me her enthusiasm for the trails, so I decided to see for myself and to give this one, the Yellow Trail, a try.

I began with an arduous but exhilarating two-minute run up the trail. The run became easier as I arrived on the higher ground, but I was also well aware of the need to keep my eyes on the trail. Still, the surfaces, which alternated between muddy soil and rocky soil, didn't pose a problem for me. (I know that my internal shock absorption system must have loved the mud.) More surprising to me, though, was that, although my heart rate was higher and I was running continuously for longer than usual, I didn't feel as if I were working that hard.

Unfortunately, after about a mile on the trail, it was clear to me that I wasn't getting back to my starting point as soon as I should have been, so, facing a fork in the trail, I took the path that returned me to Forbidden Drive. Still, I left the trail with a new-found interest in pursuing the trails around the Wissahickon.

Running with Music

As I mentioned in a previous post, I almost always run with music. I suppose I’m unusual in that I listen mostly to classical music as I run. Yes, I’ve listened to other music while running—The Doors, The Police, Led Zeppelin, to name a few—but, as even my choices in rock suggest, I don’t choose music for a specific beat or pulse. For me, music serves as a some-time distraction, a place for my mind to go when it’s not focused on the run itself or when I’m not simply day-dreaming.

This isn’t to suggest that I’m not occasionally influenced by the pulse of the music. I recall once listening to Leonard Bernstein’s wonderful recording of Brahms’s First Symphony that he made in the 1980s with the Vienna Philharmonic. Unfortunately, the symphony begins with such a strong, steady pulse (especially in Bernstein’s performance) that I found it interfering with the pace I was attempting to set.

Even the pulse of the exposition (at 3'24" in the video), although not reinforced by the pounding timpani, got in the way of my running. The moral of the story, I suppose, is that some music works at cross-purposes to running.

I've also run with music that's almost totally devoid of a steady pulse. One favorite, which I realize places me at the extreme end of musical geekdom, is Pierre Boulez's Pli selon pli:

Usually, though, my choices are a little less geeky: in the last week, I’ve been listening to Stravinsky’s Oedipus Rex in performances by Bernstein and by Karel Ancerl and to the legendary Karajan recordings of Cavalleria rusticana and Pagliacci. And, since I have tickets to heart the Philadelphia Orchestra play the piece on June 10, I’m also going to be listening to Mahler’s Third Symphony on my long runs just to get myself thinking about the work before I get to the concert.

Starting Strong and Finishing … Well, Finishing

Today I ran my weekly ten-miler. I returned to Valley Green, running the first half towards Lincoln Drive and back and the second half towards Northwestern Avenue. As I suggested in a previous post, I thought it might be time to experiment with my walk breaks, and today I did just that.

As I began my run, I planned to be more deliberate in pacing myself. I intended to run more slowly and to use the walk breaks to help me keep to the my goal pace. I alternated 2 minutes of running with a minute of walking. Alas, I began to speed up after the first half mile, and I ended up finishing the first mile about 45 seconds faster than I had intended.

About a 1-1/2 miles in, I encountered a long down-hill stretch, so I took fewer walk breaks. Was this a mistake? I don’t know. I do know, though, that the run became more difficult once I passed mile 6. While I got my ten miles in, I spent much more time with my legs feeling like lead than I would have liked.

Now I’m speculating about the cause. Did I not take enough walk breaks early in the run? I’m not sure. Perhaps the cause lay in sleep deprivation: I haven’t been getting enough rest lately. That may be fine for shorter (say, six-mile) runs, but I may be feeling the effects on my long runs.

Running Broad Street 2010—Part IX

This is my last post on the 2010 Broad Street Run. If you’ve endured the excruciating, even tedious detail of the preceding eight posts, then know now that the end is in sight. What’s that? You thought there were going to be ten installments for ten miles? No, even I show a little mercy.

My enthusiasm for running Broad Street derived in part from achieving the goal, that is, to finish. So, around the 9-1/2 mile point, I began looking forward to the end of the run. Strangely, and perhaps for the first time during the run, the distance began to seem long. The mental game—an easy one, to be sure, at this point—was simply to hang in and make it over the line.

And so I did. On finishing, I did not feel excited or thrilled, but I did feel deeply satisfied that I’d achieved this goal. A year-and-a-half before, I had considered such challenges something that other people took up, but they were not for me. After all, I’d never been athletic, so anything that struck me as a feat—a deed of more gifted people than I—was out of my reach.

Running Broad Street, then, convinced me that running a ten-miler a modest goal for many people, especially those who like me might not have been inclined to such a strenuous activity. More importantly, I found the preparation and the run itself a source of joy, even when some of that joy was experienced only in the past perfect (that is, the enjoyment of having run rather than running). In short, if I can do it, then there are a lot of others out there who can as well.

Like Seeing an Old Friend

As I was driving to Valley Green this evening, I had the feeling of seeing an old friend. It had only been six days since I'd last run on Forbidden Drive, but it had been months since I'd run there in the evening. Although the sky was overcast, I could sense, since it was about 7 p.m., that it was late in the day. Temperatures were in the mid-to-high 60s.

Tonight's was one of those runs I really need every once in a while to help me feel good again about running. Saturday's long run left me feeling discouraged, an unusual feeling for me after a run: I didn't even experience any satisfaction in the past perfect. I also hadn't run at all this week, so I needed the run just to help me cope with some stress in my life. This run fit the bill.

I ran a little more than six miles, and I followed a somewhat unusual route for me. I left Valley Green and ran 1-1/2 miles toward Lincoln drive before turning around, running 3 miles in the opposite direction, and returning to my starting point. The highlight of the run came when, approaching mile 4, the cloud cover began to lift and I could see the blue sky. The small amount of extra sunlight, even if not direct, was a welcome companion during the last quarter of my run.

I did try something different tonight: since the middle of last summer, I had been taking frequent one-minute walk breaks while running, but tonight I decided to run the last 10 minutes or so without a break. In order to pace myself, I focussed on keeping my heart rate at or below about 165 bpm (which I can maintain comfortably), and, surprisingly, I found that my pace was below 9:30/mile. I was surprised that I ran so much faster without the walk breaks. I guess  it's time for me to experiment with a different strategy for running and walking.

Running Broad Street 2010--Part VIII

South Street, the line that conventionally demarcates Center City and South Philly, lies at about the 6-1/2-mile point of the course. Had the day been cool, I might have noticed more of my surroundings; yet at this point, I was focusing increasingly on staying cool, hydrated, and, relatively speaking, comfortable. Of this part of the race, I can recollect little more than staying on the lookout for water stations and fire hydrants.


I hadn't lost any of my enthusiasm, nor had I grown impatient. Yet what stood out in my mind was the next mile. And passing each successive mile marker does stick in my mind. Three miles is, for me, a short run. In fact, I seldom run fewer than four miles at a time, so realizing that I had only three miles to go provided me another psychological boost. And soon, three miles turned to two, and two ...


Memories begin to stick after I passed the residential part of South Philly and approached the stadium complex on the right and, a little further on, Franklin Delano Roosevelt Park on my right. At this point, I began to see some of the casualties of the day: a few people off to the side receiving medical attention. (I understand that there were far more earlier in the race, perhaps about a half-hour before I arrived at the same point.) Were they not ready for the race? Or were they ready but nevertheless pushed themselves too hard in the heat of the day? I don't know, but I felt sorry for them for having lost the opportunity to finish the race yet grateful that they were able to get the medical care they needed.

Running Broad Street 2010--Part VII

Perhaps about two miles into the run, I head someone mentioning that she could see City Hall. Perhaps she saw it as an achievable, intermediate goal. Alternatively--although it may not have occurred  to me while I was running--she might have seen it as a discouraging, far-off landmark. Whatever the case, City Hall seemed to me as the psychological midpoint of the race, the point after which the psychological challenges of the race became became less daunting.

There were several reasons for this. While City Hall is past the geographical midpoint of the race--it's closer to mile 6 than mile 5--the largest crowds cheering on the runners gathered in that area. Having so many supportive people watching from the sidelines was exhilarating and refreshing, even in the heat of that day. We passed a rock band across from City Hall  playing a song by Tom Petty (I forget which one), and, even though I dislike TP (the poor man's Bob Dylan), the song seemed welcome. I also felt energized by running past so many familiar sights: this is, after all, the part of Broad Street I know best.

Yet such is the degree of focus on running that I also missed some familiar sights that I was expecting. I noted the Academy of Music as I ran past, yet I travelled a block or two before I realized that I'd missed the Kimmel Center. Still, now that I approached mile seven, the end was in sight, at least figuratively. Three miles, as far as I was concerned, was hardly a long distance.

Alternate Route

I run for many reasons, but one of the foremost is that I hate to let a beautiful day go to waste. Today was just such a day: temperatures in the upper 60s to low 70s, low humidity, partly sunny skies. I began my run at an unusual time for me, half-past noon, but the weather was mild enough I had nothing to worry about from the midday sun.

For a change, I decided today to run the loop that runs along the Schuylkill River from Falls Bridge to the Art Museum and back. In order to get in ten miles, I also added the trail that follows the river into Center City Philadelphia. I've only run this route once before. The surface, most of which is asphalt, is harder than what I usually run on Forbidden Drive.

Unfortunately, and perhaps due to the hard surfaces, I had to run through various pains throughout. In the first three miles, my shins bothered me (which almost never happens to me). While that pain eventually dissipated, the sole of my left foot began to bother me. The pain always mild, but I've come to regard these little aches as early warning systems alerting me to a possible injury.

It was nevertheless exciting to run along the portion of the river that borders Center City.  I ran as far as Market Street before turning back. Then, after I passed the Art Museum, I came upon the crowds gathered for a regatta. I enjoyed the festive atmosphere that surrounded the event, but the crowds did slow me down somewhat.

A short time after finishing the run, I noticed that my legs were aching. Perhaps the hard surface was too much for me today. At any rate, I'll return to Forbidden Drive for a while before trying the Schuylkill loop again.

Running Broad Street 2010—Part VI

I count among my adversaries while undertaking long runs exhaustion and tedium. Fortunately, these adversaries haven’t given me too much trouble. I usually plan well enough to avoid exhaustion (for example, by getting enough sleep), and I usually deal with tedium by listening to music.

I almost always listen to music when I run. The few times I have run without it, I’ve limited myself to distances of four miles or fewer. While I often listen passively—some people would say I merely “hear” the music—I find that having music in my ears gives my mind something that it can wander to when I’m not thinking about the run itself.

Although I saw many people running Broad Street with their iPods, the official line is, “For your safety and insurance considerations, no headsets are permitted.” I agree that this is a wise policy, but I also wondered if tedium would rear its head during my run and make me feel that Aristotle was wrong about Zeno’s paradox.

My fears weren’t realized. I'd hoped that the sights and sounds of the race would be enough to keep me from getting bored, and I was correct. For that matter, I probably spent even more time focused on my running than during most of my long training runs. The heat forced me to think about how I was feeling and to pace myself accordingly (often in consultation with my heart monitor). By the middle of the race, thoughts of when I’d encounter the next water station or open fire hydrant also became more prominent in my thinking.

In short, then, I did fine without the music, and I didn’t even miss it. But I’m not ready to undertake a solitary long run without the iPod yet.

Speeding Things Up a Little

In a rare occurrence, my children were ready for school in time for me to drop them off and then to get in a five-mile run on Forbidden Drive. I arrived at Valley Green a little after 8 a.m., and began my run shortly thereafter:

The air was cool, though not as cool as on Tuesday, but this may have been due to the later hour. The sky was clear.

I began my run quickly. Since I was only running five miles, I decided to experiment. I began, perhaps unwisely, at a faster pace than usual and completed the first mile in just under 10 minutes. I then attempted to maintain that pace, but I quickly realized that I was going to need to slow down. I ended up running the next three miles in slightly more than 11 minutes. Yet my speed for the fourth mile is slightly misleading: my right shoe had accumulated a number of pebbles, so I had to stop for about a minute to empty it out. Without the pebbles, I probably could have run the mile in 10 minutes. I ran the last full mile in under 9-1/2 minutes.

I’m not accustomed to pushing myself as I run. I haven’t been doing so because I’ve focused recently on losing weight. Running faster--which for me means running anaerobically--doesn’t contribute much to this goal. Yet, at the same time, I wanted to challenge myself. I’m at the point in which I need to spend time feeling what it’s like to push myself when I make a conscious effort to do just that. I can then concentrate on the sensations in my legs as I run faster than might otherwise be comfortable. Of course, I’ve been doing so only for two minutes at a time, but I’m hoping that, over time, I’ll become more comfortable running at a faster pace. (Obviously, weight loss will help with that.)

Running Broad Street 2010—Part V

Before the run, I had driven down Broad Street many times. I don’t remember ever having driven the entire length, but given the heavy traffic and many traffic lights that one frequently encounters there, I’m sure that doing so would tax my patience.

Running down Broad Street, however, I found myself mildly surprised at how quickly I came upon familiar landmarks. US-1, a/k/a Roosevelt Boulevard, for example, crosses Broad Street about three miles down the course. Yet when driving the same stretch, I frequently felt that the trip to that point was interminable. Arriving there on foot sooner than I had expected, then, enhanced my motivation and my confidence that I’d make it to the finish.

Still, I’m not that familiar with Broad Street north of City Hall. I was unaware, for example, of how far north Temple University Hospital is from the campus of the university itself. When I finally passed Temple, a few doubts may have entered my mind not about finishing but, rather, if the distance was going to seem a lot longer than I’d anticipated. In such times, then, I thought back to my long training runs and reminded myself that, yes, I had recently run the same distance (although, of course, not in such hot weather).

Chilly Morning Run

Today I headed for Forbidden Drive early, around 7 a.m. The air was unexpectedly chilly. The temperature was probably around 40. While I was dressed for the cool (although without my gloves), it did take some time to get warm.

When I arrived at Valley Green, I was greeted by the not uncommon sight of a goose and her six or eight goslings. I’m always ambivalent about the geese in Fairmount Park. The city discourages people from feeding them, because their droppings pollute the waterways from which much of our drinking water is processed. Therefore, they are, in a sense, something of a minor menace. Still, it’s hard not to find them amusing, even if their presence is less than welcome.

I ran five miles. Once again, I found myself running the first mile too quickly, but, since I wasn’t running that far, my early pace didn’t seem to have a deleterious effect on the latter part of my run. I also took the opportunity to push myself during a few intervals. It felt good, even if slightly taxing. Above all, it’s gotten me thinking more about pushing myself a bit more on my shorter runs.

Running Broad Street 2010—Part IV

Running has changed the way I think about distance. I grew up living about four miles from the nearest town, where my adoptive parents worked and where I went to school. My adoptive mother complained about the inconvenience that the seven-minute drive into town caused her, often using the opportunity to saddle me with guilt about having to be at some rehearsal or at having to pick up a school friend to play. I also remember my difficulties as a Boy Scout completing a five-mile hike (not least because my flat feet caused me pain after only a little bit of walking). The idea, then, of someone running four or five miles long daunted me, and I regarded those who did with a small sense of wonder.

Only when I found myself around a lot of people who run did it begin to occur to me that running several miles at a time might be something I could do. And, so, I started running with an eye towards chalking up greater and greater distances on each run.  When I discovered that I could cover a mile in a relatively short time, miles shrank for me, not physically, of course, but psychologically.

Perhaps, then, a key moment in learning to run longer distances is to experience the distances contracting in one’s mind. Now, running one mile, four miles, even ten miles no longer seems intimidating.

The heat notwithstanding, then, I believe that I was psychologically ready to finish the moment I started the race. I knew that I might plod along like Aesop’s tortoise, but I also knew that I would finish and that it wouldn’t feel as if it were taking forever.

Running Broad Street 2010--Part III

For those of us in the yellow corral, the race began in earnest at 8:50 a.m. Notwithstanding the months of anticipation, I experienced no initial shot of adrenaline, nor did I expect to. Knowing that the goal was simply to make it to the end, I began at a slow, steady pace with the intention of speeding up later. I also planned to incorporate regular one-minute walk breaks into my run. Initially, I planned to walk one minute for every two minutes running, and, as the race progressed, I hoped to spread my walk breaks out more. It did not take long, however, for me to realize that, given the heat, I would have to stick to the two-plus-one formula.

And what about the heat? As the race began, it was hot and humid, but the conditions were more like what one might expect in, say, mid-June than in late July. This is not to suggest that the heat was any more welcome, especially since Philadelphians hadn't had an opportunity to train in similar conditions in the weeks leading up to the race. Yet it was easy to recall that I had run in far worse conditions.

At the beginning the course drops about 60 feet over about 3/4 of a mile before rising 40 feet over about the next half-mile. Ahead of me, then, I saw a huge mass of runners climbing the first hill. Indeed, it was the upper torsos and heads of the runners in front of me that outlined the contours of the road, and they rolled over the hill like a sea of colorful figures on a conveyor belt. The sight was simultaneously exciting and bizarre: were there really so many people who were crazy enough to run 10 miles, let alone in this heat?

I was coming close to finishing the second mile when I began to realize that I was going to have to do what I had feared: I was going to bow to the demands of my bladder. Had I overhydrated? Could I have drunk less water? I didn't want to second-guess my pre-race strategy: in that day's heat, the goal was to finish. At any rate, I had to forfeit six minutes as I waited in line.

Running Broad Street 2010--Part II

My alarm awoke me at 5:30 Sunday morning. Drowsiness enveloped me as if defiantly negating that feeling of refreshment that I craved. Zombie-like I climbed out of the bed and made my way to the kitchen.

For breakfast, I departed slightly from my usual fare, about 4 ounces of orange juice, 16 ounces of coffee, and a bowl of a granola-like cereal. Instead, I halved my coffee allotment and substituted a frozen cinnamon-raisin bagel for the cereal. Nevertheless, this was sufficient to awaken me. Then, after finishing my coffee and dressing, I began to down one more liter of water before the race.

I arrived at the starting area at 7 a.m. My first task was to check a bag containing toiletries and a change of clothes on one of the gear buses. While I lacked confidence that I’d retrieve my bag with any degree of ease when the race ended, I surrendered it and hoped for the best.

When participating in a race with 30,000 people, should one be surprised that much time before and after the race would be spent waiting in lines or in crowds? When I checked my bag, it was already about 7:25—one hour until race time. As I headed for the field where people were warming up and waiting for the start, I ran into a co-worker and his father, both of whom were running. That I would run into an acquaintance so soon after arriving—did this suggest that locating other friends among the crowds would be relatively easy?

I ran a couple of laps around the track and then spent some time stretching. Then I realized that I was going to need to pee before the race began. Once again, I had to stand in a line—this time for about half an hour, during which time I downed the first of five energy gels I’d brought with me.

Prior to this race, I’d never had an energy gel. I did so this time because a friend had used them for the first time the previous year and believed that they may have made a difference in getting her across the finish line. I didn’t know what to expect. I knew that some people thought that energy gels bordered on the unpalatable. Still, I was concerned about having the energy I’d need to get to the finish, so I committed to ingesting them during the race. As it turned out, I didn’t find them as bad as I’d feared; in fact, the only disagreeable aspect was the awful gooey and sweet sensation that lingered in my mouth for a few minutes afterwards.

As one might expect of a highly publicized, annual event involving so many people, a considerable amount ceremony accompanies the Broad Street Run. At 7:45, for example, a celebrity of some sort led the crowd on the athletic field in stretches. While probably beneficial for some—I, like many, did not take part—its significance struck me as more of a community ritual than an effort to enhance the fitness of the stretchers.

After I finally got to through the line, it was to time to head toward the starting area. Leaving the field, I immediately encountered yet another large crowd, all of whom were moving in the same direction. Meanwhile, the opening ceremonies continued, as various local dignitaries, including the mayor, made public-spirited statements in support of the runners. I’m not sure that many people paid attention to these voices that blared through the loudspeakers. Nevertheless, I’m sure that the social functions of such pre-race activities are far from negligible, even if I cannot articulate what those might be.

When Is “Easy,” uh, Easy?

It’s Saturday, and given that tomorrow is Mother’s Day, I had to take my long run today. In preparation for the Broad Street Run, I had gotten my long run up to ten miles, so that’s the distance i ran today. I’m planning to run one or two half-marathons in the fall, so I want to maintain and build my base.

One popular rule for recovering from a race is to take one easy day after the race for each mile raced. In my case, though, I ran the Broad Street Run for endurance (as I suppose, given the heat, most people did) rather than for speed. In fact, I’d run better—that is, faster and more comfortably—in the weeks leading up to Broad Street. So I’m not sure that I had that much to recover from.

Getting today’s run in, I feared, was going to be tricky. The forecast had called for an early morning thunderstorm. While I’ll gladly run in the rain, I won’t run in lightning. The skies, too, had looked rather dark, presaging a storm. Yet after checking the latest forecast, according to which we were to have overcast or partly sunny conditions, I decided to head out for my run.

The sun’s initial absence led me to expect cooler air than was actually present. As I began to run, in fact, I noticed that I was feeling warm earlier than I had expected. I had misjudged the conditions. Still, I was able to run comfortably.

I did attempt to run at a slower, more relaxed pace, but I soon discovered that I had finished my first mile about a minute too fast. I had alternated between three minutes of running and one of walking, but I decided, in order to conserve my energy and force myself to run more slowly, I decided to alternate my walk breaks with two-minute runs.

My first five miles, then, turned out to be easy. I covered Forbidden Drive from Valley Green almost all the way to Lincoln Drive and back. I drank more water than I had anticipated—20 ounces—but that wasn’t a problem. Then, midway through the run, I stopped at a water fountain to refill my bottle.

One of the disadvantages—and there really are few—of running on Forbidden Drive is the tendency for pebbles bolders to become trapped in one's shoes. One must stop and empty the shoe. Given that I always double-knot mine, dislodging the foreign object makes for an unwelcome mid-run nuisance. Today, I was lucky enough to be able to empty my shoe at a natural break point in the run, but other days I've had to forfeit already established momentum at crucial points in the run.

As it turned out, I should have been more optimistic about the weather. Midway through the run, the clouds dissipated and the sun shone bright. Now my pesimsism concerning matters meteorological came back to haunt me: I had deliberately left my sunglasses and my headband at home. I was condemned to complete my run battling the sweat that continually dripped into my eyes.

I continued to feel good as I ran the other stretch of Forbidden Drive towards Northwestern Avenue. I did, however, find myself tiring a bit, and, as I reached about the 7-1/2 mile point, lead legs began to set in. But I wonder if part of my problem was a loss of mental focus: the longer I ran, the less I thought about my pace, and the greater was my tendency to run faster rather than slower. This strikes me as paradoxical: in order to maintain a less physically demanding pace, one must concentrate more. Unfortunately, by mile 8, the mental energy for me to concentrate was in short supply.

Nevertheless, I managed to regain a bit of my focus and run comfortably to the ten-mile point and then some. While I'm rather tired as I write this (due in part to slight sleep deprivation), I was pleased that the run didn't leave me spent. Nevertheless, I'll think I'll hold at about 20 miles per week for a few weeks. Then I'll begin thinking about half-marathon training.