Installment # 32

It seems to be universally true that a runner can never make up the time downhill that he lost going uphill.  For example, if a runner’s race pace on a flat course is 6 minutes per mile, and on a hilly course he slows to 7 minutes per mile on an uphill portion, he will never achieve 5 minute miles on the downhill and make up for it.  It just doesn’t work that way.  On a loop course, where the start and finish lines are at the same point, so that there is no net elevation gain or loss, our finish times will always be slower on a hilly course than on a flat course of the exact same distance.   Also, with respect to the marathon, on any given day there is an ideal, best pace for any given runner, and sometimes we have good days, and sometimes we have bad days or average days.  We find that for every 10 seconds per mile faster than ideal the runner runs in the first few miles of the race, he will lose a minute per mile in the last few miles.

One problem is that we don’t know whether we will have a good day or a bad day.  You cannot make the marathon do what you want.  It deals you a different hand every time.  But for example, if my ideal pace for that day was 8 minute miles, and I went out at 7:50, I would be slowed to 9 minute miles for the last few miles.  In my very last marathon, Sacramento’s Cal International, my training and fitness level told me I had a very good chance to break 3 hours and 20 minutes, which as a 42 year old would qualify me for Boston (not that I had any intention of running the Boston Marathon, but just beating that standard was quite an achievement for most of us).  Roughly speaking, 8 minute pace = 3 and ½ hours.  To knock 10 minutes off my finish time, I needed to run about 7:38 pace. Well, I felt so good on race day morning that I crossed the 5 mile mark in 35 minutes (7 minute pace!).  I tried to hold myself back, and after the half-way mark I didn’t need to – I was running close to 8 minute pace, but feeling pretty good. 

To hit 3:20 I knew what my times should be at the half and at 18 and 20 miles.  I recall that I was still well under my target time at 18, but had little cushion left by mile 20, and knew that I might be in trouble.  I don’t recall the exact details, but I ran slower and slower over the last 6 miles and in fact actually froze up within site of the finish line.  My left hamstring just locked up on me and I couldn’t move.  Someone came up behind me – I never knew whether it was a race worker, a spectator, a fellow runner, or what - but the person massaged my hamstring from behind until I found I could start to hobble forward and cross the finish line.

I finished in 3:28, which was only my second ever sub 3:30 marathon.  I was proud of it, but knew that I had blown a really good chance.  I had felt great that morning, and I cannot help but believe that if I had paced myself properly in those early miles, I would have achieved my goal.  I don’t recall whether I “knew” that was my last marathon.  After most marathons I questioned the wisdom of ever doing another one.  It seemed like 20 miles was the longest I could really train for and race; that my body type was not designed for racing 26 miles.  But all my marathon buddies said the same thing:  “The marathon is really two races – the first 20 and the last 6.”  In any case, after locking up like that I decided that marathon training was more detrimental that beneficial to my body, and a very demanding mistress time-wise.  Conventional wisdom included the fact that you cannot “fake it” through the marathon.  You must do the training, or you will never finish the race, and it will be a miserable experience.

Something else about the first running boom is running etiquette.  We were encouraged by Runner’s World Magazine and by our fellow runners to make eye contact, smile and at least say “Hi” as we past runners coming the other way.  Often it was a word of encouragement, such as “Way to go,” or something, if not just “Hi.”  If we overtook a runner going in the same direction, we would at least acknowledge them, if not slow to their pace for a few seconds and chit chat -  maybe about how many minutes they had been running to that point, or how far they were going that day.  That all seems to have changed, with so many more people running, and with the advent of headsets, ear buds and the like.

In our area there are also a lot of different first languages, and small groups take the opportunity during a walk or a run to converse in their native language without annoying anyone else.  The politically correct term for a long time was “English as a Second Language” or “ESL.”  Perhaps because it is such a distant second in some cases, the politically correct term is now “English Learner.”  That sounds more positive and gives the benefit of the doubt.  Hopefully it also reminds our immigrant population that, “Hey, you are supposed to be trying to learn English!” I will waive or smile if I get eye contact, but there is no use saying anything.  They are busy talking, or they can’t hear with their headsets on.  And so many people are not interested in making eye contact!  How strange, how sad…end of an era, I guess.

I don’t know what they are listening to on the headsets…motivational music? Training tips?  Books on tape?  Business-related stuff?  Most of us who have been running since the 1970s never made the transition to headsets or ear buds, etc.  I like to be able to hear my footsteps, my breathing, the sounds of nature.  On the roads I like to hear motorists and cyclists coming up behind me.  A good part of the benefit of running in groups is the bantering and camaraderie that takes place.  Plus, I sweat a lot.  The early headsets had large, uncomfortable-looking ear muffs that I had no interest in running with.  Many did adopt the use of heart rate monitors and later GPS-based devices.  I borrowed a heart rate monitor and used it once or twice, but it only confirmed what I already knew, so I gave it back and did not start using one.

In the early years of my running, we learned to check our heart rates by placing the fingers of one hand on the side of the neck and counting the heart beats while watching 10 seconds elapse on our watches.   Multiply by 6, and you have your heart rate in beats per minute.  Do this within a few seconds of completing your run, before your rate slows down.  The guideline was that after a training run, your heart rate should be around 75% of your maximum, and your maximum was estimated at 220 minus your age.  Thus a 40-year old would have a max of 180 (220-40), and his safe training rate would be 135 (75% of 180).   I routinely came in at 180 or so, which I worried about for a while, then forgot about.  Either my maximum heart rate was higher than average, or I was needing to go way above 75% in order to run the pace I wanted, but in either case I felt none the worse for wear, and my heart rate returned to normal rather quickly – which, after all, is a key indicator of a high fitness level – so after the first year I never took it again.  One guy said he thought we were told to check our heart rates just to keep our minds off the pain and discomfort of becoming a runner.  Could be.

I remember one time in the early ‘80s when four of us co-workers were running at lunch time, and up ahead we thought we saw a woman running in the same direction that we were running, wearing a very skimpy jog bra (if we even called them that in those days).  We saw a bare back with a thin line across the middle.  As we got closer we started commenting (and wise-cracking) about what a tall, muscular-looking woman she was.  We finally got close enough to see that it was a man wearing one of the bulky early headsets or heart monitors that required the strap around the chest.  The interesting point is that none of the four of us realized what it was until we got quite close.

The conventional wisdom was that you should allow 4-6 months, depending on your fitness level when you started training for a marathon, build up to at least 60 miles per week for the last 4 training weeks, culminating in your longest run about 3-4 weeks out, then taper down for the 3 weeks prior to marathon weekend.  You might do 40 miles the 3^rd week out, 25 miles the 2^nd week out and 10-12 miles the week before the marathon, with virtually no miles the last 2-3 days prior.  Marathon training pace is about 2-3 minutes per mile slower than goal race pace, and the longest run should be around the same number of minutes as your planned marathon finish time.  My goal was usually to break 8 minute per mile pace, which means a 3 ½ hour marathon.  My longest training runs were about 3 hours 15 minutes at ten minute pace – close enough.

Working full time, I ran at lunch time in the cooler weather and in the pre-dawn during the summer, but about half my weekly mileage came on the weekends.  That includes the 60 mile weeks, where we would do 14-16 milers on both Saturday and Sunday mornings.  I had a favorite mid-week run where I would leave the house about an hour before day break and run the streets down to the south end of the Quicksilver Park.  By the time I got to the entrance to the park it was light enough to see.  I would then run up and down the hills on the dirt trails and exit the park at McAbee, a 12-minute jog from home.  That was about a 2 ½ hour run in all.  It absolutely amazes me today to think that I could maintain such a running schedule while working full time in accounting management.  But I was far from the only one.  Based on surveys, most marathoners were college educated professionals.  My theory on this is that a) people who do physical work for a living do not have the energy of desire to train for a marathon, and b)  “knowledge workers,” if you will, need to achieve a balance of physical fatigue to match the mental fatigue the comes with their jobs.

I had turned to the marathon, not only because I was associating with marathoners, but because I was finding that I had no real natural speed and was hoping that maybe the longer distances were more my forte.  We learned about “fast-twitch” muscles and “slow-twitch” muscles.  Through training, you could change the balance somewhat, but basically, you had a body type and would do better either at the sprint distances or the longer distances.  At the same time, the foundation of speed work was LSD – long, slow distance.  With a good base of LSD you could work to achieve greater speed at the shorter distances, as well.  There are charts that show your predicted race pace at any distance based on your known race paces.  I never broke 40 minutes for the 10-K (My two best times were 40:55 and 41:02), but those times came in the midst of marathon training, which proved the point about the benefits of LSD.  Based on my 41 minute 10-K pace, I should have been able to break 3:10 in the marathon, but my best 2 marathons were 3:26 and 3:28, just under the 8 minute pace.  On the other hand, the 41 minute 10-k predicted that I could run a mile in 5:55, and I did that once in training.  I don’t think I ever ran a 1-mile race.  In my day, I think I needed to break 3:10 to qualify for the Boston Marathon when I was in my late 30s and 3:20 in my early 40s.  Well, I never made it, but I gave it my best!