More mind games for marathoners

Something is different this year. 

I blew off a race today. 

The Labor Day 5K in Leawood drew me to the starting line each of the past couple of years. It’s a flat and fast course. Last year I PR’d. 

I have been thinking about the race, and even encouraging others to partake. But this morning, I laced up the Mizunos and headed out. For a semi-long run. 

My work schedule this week is going to play havoc with my running schedule. So I wanted to be sure to get my runs in. The idea of a 5K sprint just wasn’t appealing. 

All of my running focus at the moment is on Oct. 18. The Kansas City Marathon. 

I am obsessed with redeeming myself. Two years ago I attempted a full marathon.  It didn’t work out so well. Looking back, I realize now, I started the summer with an overuse injury. 

Guess what?  Logging lots and lots of miles and running longer than I had ever run before in my life was not a good strategy for healing.  19 miles into the marathon in 2006 I was limping. Big time.  

DNF city. And the demons of self-loathing and self-doubt have been running wild inside my mind ever since. 

This summer, I have been feeling much, much better. I have been logging my miles, focused on the fall. My previous marathon failure, though, has left me toting around a bunch of extra emotional baggage. As strong as I feel at the moment, will I really be able to get it done -- finally -- in October? 

I know I should weave in some speed work. But this morning, I was much more focused on getting in a solid 8 miles with hope of making me stronger for Oct. 18.

Burns oil, but still running

Cosmic coincidence? Maybe.

I choose to consider it part of the Universe’s ongoing plot to mess with my head.

The same week I mark another year on the planet, my beloved car – Ok, so it’s a 1998 Saturn and not necessarily beloved – decides to flip its odometer to 100,000 miles.

As I tend to do in these situations, I internalized the car’s mileage and considered it some sort of reflection on the hard driving I have put my body through over the past four decades.

That brings us to today’s half marathon.

I was feeling a bit like the oil-burning clunker that I drive to work. And I wanted to prove that I have some tread left on the tires and some giddy-up remaining in the engine.

Didn’t set any speed records – or even a PR – at the Hospital Hill Half Marathon. But in the 80-plus-degree heat and high humidity, I didn’t break down and need a tow to the finish line, either.
Still working on a race report. I did finally get to meet Topher and his family. He not only writes an award-winning blog, but he’s a heck of a nice guy and a good runner.

Taper madness

Why is an idle runner's brain – OK, OK, this idle runner's brain – so
eager to hop on the crazy train at the first opportunity?

For weeks and weeks now I would look at the training schedule, see
that I was supposed to go 8 or 10 miles and think, "Oh, today's a
shorter day."

Then last night I was glancing at the course map for Saturday's half
marathon. "So there's the 1-mile marker, the 2, then the 3…..Yikes.
It's a long way until I even get to the half-way mark," I thought.

Guess my goofy psyche didn't want to wait until race day to let the
mind games begin.

I blame it on the tapering.

Running bunches and bunches of miles – or at least as close as this middle-of-the-packer gets with his training schedule – seems to be good for strengthening the heart, lungs and legs. It might not make my mind stronger, but it at least keeps the grey blob inside my head busy so it can’t make trouble.

I’m still debating whether to drive the course on Thursday or Friday before Saturday’s race. I did that last fall before running the Kansas City Half Marathon. Mostly it was helpful, but it did freak me out a little. Those hills were steep in the first few miles.

With a name like Hospital Hill Half Marathon, Saturday’s course, I realize, isn’t going to be as flat as a Kansas prairie filled with pretty sunflowers.

I am leaning toward a 13.1 mile drive so I can visualize my run and plan a little race-day strategy. Maybe something a little more sophisticated than go out too fast, burn lots of energy on the hills, bonk and then hang on until the finish.

So what do you think? Are the possible benefits of a little pre-race planning worth the risk of triggering a raging storm of I-think-I-can’t mind games?

Mystery runner race report

She appeared out of nowhere and started asking me questions.

“How fast are you going to run it?”

I had been noodling over some possible times to shoot for, but I hadn’t dared write them down or even say them out loud. Then it would become an actual goal, a marker to measure my success – or failure.

“I want to come in under 40 minutes,” I replied, kind of taken aback about the forward question from someone I had never seen before but answering it anyway.

“A lot under 40?” she asked, but peppering me with “Are you going to go out too fast in the first mile?” before waiting for a response to the first query.

“Yeah, probably,” I said with a laugh. “I don’t mean to go out so fast, but a lot of times it happens that way.”

She had short gray hair. Seemed to be in her 50s. She talked some more, telling me she had run the Amy Thompson run on Memorial Day in Kansas City for years and years. We talked about how we probably shouldn’t start so far up in the pack, but it was a reasonable strategy or you just spend so much of the first mile or two using up energy, and taking time while weaving through folks who probably should have found a spot more suitable to their pace a little farther back.

I know I would just block the true rabbits in the race so I try to stay out of their way at the front.

Then, just before the gun went off, she walked away. Absorbed by the crowd so quickly that I almost wondered whether the woman actually had been by my side talking. Or if I had just imagined the entire conversation.

But the race was on. And, yes, I did say, “Holy Crap!” out loud when my Garmin beeped off the first-mile split. It was under 8. Shoot. It was under 7:30.

“Easy there, mister,” I admonished myself.

But I was doing OK. I kept checking my legs. They were pumping fairly well. A little tired from recent runs, but a decent level of energy.

I dialed it back a little. No need to flame out with a big surge too early.

Started feeling a little weary around mile 3. Not long after I saw some of the folks from my Saturday running group passing out water at an aid station. They shouted encouragement. They whooped. They hollered. One guy had on a grass hula skirt and a coconut bra.

I felt a surge of energy as I laughed my way down the road.

When I needed another boost I replayed my pre-run tunes inside my head. Liz Phair’s “Extraordinary” and “Stars and Planets” were blasting through my iPod in the car on the way to the race.

“the ones that shine the brightest aren’t stars at all, they’re the planets just like us….
And from big to small, we all shine, shine, shine…”

Checked out the Garmin. 4.3 miles. Come on. Push it. Push it. Just a little more.

As I looked up at the finishing clock, I pumped my fist. Came in under 40. I Blew that PR away. By nearly two minutes.

Before leaving the house, I had looked up my time in this race last year. And my all-time fastest 8K from Al’s Run in Milwaukee a few years back. I have been feeling strong and I was thinking about pursuit of a PR.

But I hadn’t really decided. In fact I was wavering. Then I committed by saying it out loud to an ethereal runner who was there one minute and then gone.

Who was that woman?

Back to work

“Get up. It’s time to run.”

What are you talking about? I am still basking in the glow of accomplishing a PR in the race on Sunday.

“That was two days ago. What are you going to do for me today?”

Who are you anyway?

“I am the training schedule and I must be obeyed.”

OK. So what did you have in mind this morning? A 3-mile leg stretcher? Maybe 4.

“8”

You have to be joking. 8 miles?

“I am the training schedule. And I don’t joke.”

Dude, you need to lighten up.

“Mr. Dude, you need to get out of bed and run. 8 miles. Now get going.”

OK, OK, I’m going already.

“You will thank me on that hot day in June when you are going up and down hills for 13.1 miles.”

Don’t push it, buddy.

Racing against thousands of runners -- and my own self doubt

I’m a huge fan of Margaritas, really I am.

The blender had barely stopped whirring last night when Mrs. Oz filled a glass with the delicious, frosty concoction and then looked askance when I said, “No thank you” to a glass of my own.

Not my typical response.

It’s not that I am some sort of world-class athlete with iron will for discipline or anything. But I did have a race this morning and yes, I am trying to set myself up to succeed.

So last night I did abstain. I even went to bed early. We had rented a couple of DVDs. By the time I got done watching one with the youngest Ozling, it was quarter to 9. So instead of staying up late to watch the second movie with Mrs. Oz, I read for a little bit and then turned out the light.

Yesterday I did run long, but I took it easy for a little over 9 miles. The Half Marathon in June is my true focus for this part of the running season so I needed some mileage, but I also wanted to rev up the engine today at the Trolley Run 4-miler. So I tried to leave some gas in the tank.

And rev I did this morning. Vroom, vroom.

The leader of my weekly running group encouraged everyone doing today’s race to take it easy on the first part of the course. It can be a bit congested with thousands of runners and walkers. And the early going is flat to slightly uphill.

I thought I was taking it easy. Sort of. When my little Garmin buddy beeped a first-mile split, though, it informed me I had gone a little over 7.

Then we hit the downhill portion of the course. Downhill is fun. The rest of my splits…..went negative.

I often have negative splits in my races. But it doesn't usually involve faster miles toward the end. They reflect negative thoughts of self doubt that fill my head late in a race. When I hit the mind games part of the race, they did in fact arrive. “You are going too fast. You know you are going to get tired. What if you bonk? “

“Shut up. I have been training. I’m doing OK,” I replied to the negative thoughts.

“Don’t you think if you keep going this fast you are going to bonk?” they counter.

I kept them under control. Mostly. I kept running steady and hard, but then a dude in an orange shirt came up beside me. He pushed ahead. I followed and pushed ahead of him.

We traded position about four times in the last ¾ of a mile. Then he made a final surge with what turned out to be a little more than ¼ of a mile to go.

I kept running hard, but gave in to the mind games and conceded that my legs did feel a little heavy. I gave in a bit to the fear of bonking – even as it was irrational with so little distance yet to go. I let Orange man go without a final fight and he crossed the line at least a couple hundred yards ahead of me.

Still, though, I kept the negative thoughts at bay more effectively than I ever have before. When I crossed the line, it was a PR -- with the fastest average time per mile of any race I have ever run.

I will learn from today and be stronger next time. And I will celebrate today's accomplishment.

Tonight, should Mrs. Oz pour a glass of the Syrah resting in our wine rack at the moment for herself and one for me, I certainly won’t say, “No thank you.”

I needed that one

Just rattled off 7.

Nothing spectacular. A steady, strong and comfortable seven miles.

I needed that. Badly.

Disastrous would be overstating the case. But my past week of running hasn’t been good. I was starting to wonder whether the wheels were coming off my running wagon. Again.

Last Tuesday I was scheduled for an 8-miler. As I awoke in the wee hours, the sky was flashing with lightning, the house was shaking with thunder and rain was gushing from the skies.

Maybe I’m a wimp. I didn’t mind getting wet. But I also didn’t want to get crispy from lightning. I bagged it.

The next day I went out and did my 8. I felt tight, but relatively OK.
I was going to go out and do 6 the next day, but felt a cold starting to take hold in my chest. One of the Ozlings has steadily been developing a cough over the past week. I decided to rest. I’ve been dropping Vitamin C bombs every day – I think it’s working.

I think it was the first training run I bagged without rescheduling while preparing for the upcoming half marathon.

On Saturday, I was supposed to do my longest long run for this round of training. 14. But the other Ozling had a flag football game. I joined the Saturday group for our 7 a.m. start. I did 10 miles. Not a very good 10. My left leg started to hurt. I pushed through, but didn’t feel good about the run.

Then I sprinted back to the car and cruised over to the game. I was a little late, but arrived in time to see the Ozling dash into the end zone and complete a pass. Wow.

Last night I worked on stretching my hamstrings and have gotten out that torture device known as a foam roller more consistently over the past few days. It seemed to help.

I started out slowly this morning and then cruised through the rest of the run. My left leg felt a lot better. The stretching made a difference.

I want to do well on my 12 miles on Saturday. I could use the mental boost. It was starting to feel like my body was falling apart. I was losing focus.

I’ve got to get a grip. Stay strong. I’m almost there.