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.

Running Broad Street 2010—Part I

Philadelphia’s Broad Street Run was the day I’d been waiting for since I began running over a year ago. In fact, I started running partly because so many of my friends were training for and running Broad Street. As I began to research training programs on the web, I was surprised to learn in how short a period one could go from the couch to a ten-miler. While I started running too late to participate in the 2009 event, I had this year’s race squarely in my sights from the start.

Since I had never been athletic, the idea of a ten-mile run had long seemed intimidating. Other people ran races like that; I did not believe that I, too, could become a member of the club. From the outside looking in, the barriers to entry seemed high. Yet from the inside, I’m surprised that more people don’t try it.

---

I began watching the weather about 10 days before the race. While one ought always to take long-range forecasts with a large block of salt, the initial signs seemed encouraging: overcast, even rainy, and on the seasonably cool side. So I was caught somewhat by surprise when, as race day approached, the forecast changed to high heat and humidity.

My race preparations began in earnest, then, on Friday evening, when I had my final pre-race beer and began drinking lots of water.  The word was out to all runners: hydrate! hydrate! hydrate! And so I continued throughout Saturday and Sunday morning before the race.

I had hoped to get a good night’s sleep two nights before the race, but, unfortunately, I  was unable to rest well (for reasons that had nothing to do with the race).  Even attempts to nap on Saturday came to naught, and, as is not uncommon for runners the night preceding a race, sound sleep also eluded me that evening.

Wildlife Sightings

This morning I ran early. I arrived at Valley Green a little before 7 a.m. for a five-mile run. The air was comfortable, the temperature in the low 60s. The previous evening, the weather forecast had called for scattered thunder showers, yet when I woke up at 5:30 a.m., the precipitation had disappeared from the forecast.

Since it had only been four days since the Broad Street Run, my plan was to take it easy, but I ran at about the same pace that I had in the last few weeks leading up to the race. More importantly, I felt good throughout most of my run—and I was even aware of my speed, which, though slow, was, I reassured myself, significantly faster than walking.

One of the many pleasures of running on Forbidden Drive is the sighting of wildlife. I particularly enjoy seeing chipmunks. Until today, I had no recollection of seeing chipmunks, but, on the inbound leg of my run, I began seeing them. The first two that I saw were in the distance; they appeared to be gray, but that may have been because of the way the light fell on them. The next two that I saw, however, had their full compliment of red, brown, and black stripes. Mistaking me for a predator, the scurried across the path and into the woods. When I saw a piece of a dead tree branch on the ground, it appeared, at a brief glance, not too different from the chipmunks. It became clear to me how well the chipmunks coat camouflage them.

I also saw a cardinal—a rather unusual sight, I think—that was hovering near a plant that may have had berries on it.

Sights like these help make every run, especially on Forbidden Drive, unique. That’s one reason why I never tire of running there.

First Run Post-Broad Street

These days, I’ve been trying to run three days per week. My work schedule enables me to get to the office at 10:00 a.m. a few days per week—usually Tuesdays and Thursdays—so I try to take advantage of the extra time in the morning to go running.

Yesterday, as usual, I got down to Forbidden Drive around 8:20. I’d hoped to run five miles, but time constraints restricted me to four. The air, though warm, had cooled noticeably since Sunday, yet it remained somewhat humid, even if not annoyingly so.  The cloud cover, while not heavy, was sufficient to prevent direct sunlight from falling into the open spaces.

I had a good run, even if I ran the entire four miles about two minutes slower than I usually do.  Of course, after a 10-mile race, the body needs time to recover—according to one rule of thumb, one day per mile raced.  Above all, the run offered me an opportunity to keep in mind a lesson I learned during the Broad Street Run: sometimes pacing yourself so that you remain comfortable—that is, not pushing yourself—can enable you to finish what might otherwise be a psychologically challenging run.

Four miles, of course, is hardly challenging for me.  Yet, the recovery period provided a good time for me to shift my focus back toward the things that make running enjoyable from moment to moment—the sense of self-propelled forward motion, the ability to cover a long distance on foot in a relatively short time, and the opportunity simply to enjoy the time outdoors. The time to think about speed will come later.

Back to blogging

Yes, it’s been a long time since I last blogged. I’ve not stopped running in the mean time, even if I’ve not been blogging about it. So I owe my readers—even if they are imaginary or, as literary critics like to say, “ideal”—a brief update.

My last post concerned my problems with shoes. Shortly after that post, I visited The North Wales Running Company, where the salesperson helped me find a good replacement for my existing running shoe: the Mizuno Wave Nirvana 5. She also pointed out some problems with my form that had been contributing to my foot pain. Between new shoes and new form, the pain largely dissipated.

After spending a month running on a treadmill (in order to make sure that the new shoes were going to work out and so I could return them if they didn’t), I resumed my running on Forbidden Drive. I increased my mileage to 16 miles/week: 4 miles twice a week and 8 miles for my long run.  Unfortunately, I ended up running less in September after I started a new job with Susequehanna International Group. They’re a great company to work for—probably one of the best in the Delaware Valley—and I’m enjoying my time there. There’s one problem: one of the perks of working for SIG is catered lunches every day. Consequently, I was yet another new employee to put on what we call “the SIG 15”: all the weight I had lost since beginning to run came back.

Still, I continued running at least once a week, often twice, and, less often, three times.  In late September, I ran my first 5K, finishing at a 9:30 mile/minute pace (which, alas, I’m not going to be able to do again until I lose this weight)!  The latest incentive for me to get my miles in was the Broad Street Run, which its sponsor, Blue Cross Blue Shield of Pennsylvania, proudly touts as the nation’s largest 10-miler.

This past Sunday, May 2, then, I ran Broad Street. It was a terrific experience, and I’ll blog about it in my next post.