2010 Long Beach Marathon

Finished in 03:23:52 (PR).

Any more importantly my good friend and steadfast colleague, Tiansheng (Tyson) finished his first ever marathon!

That's the good news.

To contextualize the bad news, we should rewind the tape to Thursday, Oct. 14th, when shortly after noon, I departed for Las Vegas, where 10 friends and I were set to converge from all over the world to celebrate one friend's recent engagement. My mindset on this trip centered on having fun, and when stray thoughts about the upcoming race would drift into my mind, I would hastily shake them out of my consciousness. Thus, after residing in a crowded hotel room in the Bellagio for two days and subsisting almost solely on Chipotle and Panda Express, I finally admitted to myself that trouble could lie on the horizon.

I spent a few hours on Saturday afternoon (now the day before the race) with two members of our group filing police reports for stolen purses and frantically drinking bottles of Gatorade to rehydrate. Then, I departed back to San Diego, repeating to myself on the long trip home that my goal of qualifying for the Boston Marathon (3:10:59) was still realistic. After all, I had been training all summer on the beach with a 3:05 marathoner. However, had I been more honest with myself, I would have recognized that my regimen of sporadic long runs amidst a busy summer of traveling (friends visiting, conferences, etc.) was perhaps not as rigorous as I imagined it to be.

I arrived at my apartment around 10 pm, scarfed down a California burrito and went immediately to sleep, before rising at 3 am. I met up with Tyson who was driving at 3:30 am and thought of my friends who were still out partying in Las Vegas. (In fact, even a few hours later, while warming up, I received encouraging text messages from some of them, which evidenced that they were still awake.)



While standing in the crowded start line chute, I didn't feel quite the same level of anxiety or excitement as I had in other races. I don't know if this was experience finally starting to sink in, or if I was just too fatigued to process what was going on. When the gun sounded, I took off at a brisk if uneven pace, and struggled for about five miles to find a comfortable rhythm. By Mile 2, I had vomited in my mouth, which I knew foreshadowed troubles ahead.




At the start, I had had trouble locating the 3:10 pace group, but I knew by Mile 12, that 3:10 was going to be a stretch. At the half-way point, there was an out-and-back loop in the course, and I saw that I was well ahead of the 3:20 pace group, a position that I maintained through Mile 15. At that point, however, the outlook suddenly became bleak. I felt my body slowing down, and I my pace dropped dramatically (from 7:20 pace, to a 8:00 pace, all the way to a 9:00 pace, before improving back to a 8:30 pace). It was demoralizing to have the 3:20 pace group overtake me and hear the pacer shout to his group, "Don't feel bad for passing them. You ran a smart race. You're fresh and they're not." At Mile 16, I spotted Tyson, who was about six miles behind me, at an overlapping part of the course, which energized both us -- for 50 strides at least. Over the course of the next six miles, an all-consuming full-body fatigue overtook me, and the only urgency that I felt was in going to sleep as soon as possible. With the finish mile approaching mile by mile, I felt small burst of energy (mini-second winds), but not enough to sustain a big kick, and trudged painfully onward until I crossed the final timing mat. I made my way through the chute, cooled off, and then walked about a tenth of a mile back up the course to wait for Tyson and cheer on other runners. I was cold and tired, but when I finally saw Tyson still valiantly plugging along, my heart left. I raced over to his side, grabbed his empty water bottles and returned to the sidewalk to run along with him to the finish.



I munched BBQ Kettle chips while watching a total melee at the Jet Blue bag drop. The workers weren't locating bags fast enough, so some runners undid a tie at the side of the tent, entered themselves, and started dumping out all of the bins in search of their bags. (This latter maneuver, incidentally, totally obliterated the numerical organizational system.) Luckily, Tyson and I both located our bags; we then limped back to his car, and enjoyed a quiet drive back home. After showering and napping, I met up again with Tyson for his son's birthday celebration -- quite a day for him! -- and avariciously gorged myself on succulent Chinese food.

This race certainly had it's high points and low points for me. I am proud to have finished, and I am proud that I kept pushing myself even when my goal of qualifying for Boston was out of sight. Even more than that, I am proud of Tyson. I helped spark his interest in distance running, and it was immensely satisfying to help him through the training process and to be there for him at the end. And though I was again humbled by the immutable fact that "you can't do everything at once," I was happy to have gone to Las Vegas to see all of my friends. I also learned some valuable lessons to take forward with me. I learned that even with a busy schedule it's important to have a comprehensive, organized training plan and to stick with it (particularly when running for time). I was reminded to run with humility. The brashness that caused me to burst out of the gate at the start compounded my misery in the middle of the race. And my unwillingness to rest in the few days before the race led to misery at every step. I saw also at the end of the race, that it's vital to keep running fun. I grudgingly coasted through heavy mileage during the summer. I wasn't happy doing it, and I didn't benefit as much as I could have from it. In future races, I hope that I'll be both more responsible and more joyful.

Walking on Clouds

Michigan is not mountainous. And as a consequence, until this weekend, I've had practically no experience running at high elevation. A graduate student retreat brought me to the UCLA Conference Center at Lake Arrowhead, CA, from where I am presently writing.

Navigating my Toyota along the tortuous roads to an elevation of 5,200 ft. was enough to leave me feeling light-headed and dizzy, but today's morning run felt like a sternly humbling punch in stomach. I rose early and got out the door shortly before sunrise. Progressing at an easy pace, I was reminded of Thanksgiving weekend runs in Cedarville, MI -- the same coniferous crispness in the air. Passing by pine cones the size of my calf muscles, I felt the rhythmic ascending/descending pattern of running along a mountain face. While my legs pistoned compliantly, my lungs and heart raced to process the thin air. Certainly a combination of physiology and psychology were at play, but I never expected to notice such a pronounced difference. Thankfully for my body's well-being, I was pushing the limits of my schedule, so I had to turn back after only a few miles (running maybe 6 miles in total).



Throughout the morning and afternoon, as we sat inside for lectures and poster sessions, clouds continuously enveloped the resort -- making me feel like I was surrounded by giant humidifiers. During our free period, three friends and I decided to take a hike along nearby trails. Clouds continued to roll over and around us, as we meandered through fallen trees, overgrown shrubs, and dried-up creeks. I stumbled along awkwardly in Crocs -- characteristically poor planning on my part. As my feet pressed onward up and down hills, I felt the same shortness of breath and general light-headedness that I've come to associate with any physical exertion a mile above sea level -- and I had a momentary flashback of the utter exhaustion that came with snowboarding (read: falling) down the Austrian Alps in 2008 during a Reetz lab ski trip.




The mist steadily transformed into rain, and we managed to find our way back to our car before we became too drenched to appreciate the fresh taste of the mountain air and the cool touch of the clouds.

Marathon Training Program

A big part of the thrill of running for me is getting new people involved. I've had the tremendous honor of helping "coach" two friends in marathon training to date, and I'd love to enable as many people as possible to realize their own health and fitness goals.

As part of a long-term project, I'm trying to compile training programs for races of various distances (half-marathon, marathon, 50-mile, 100-mile, etc.). The content of these programs will be dynamic (and will hopefully improve over time). The first installment is below...

Here's the basic framework for training that I used to complete my first marathon (the Karstadt Ruhr Marathon in Germany). In my opinion, it's quite a good plan -- if you complete the four-month program, you'll definitely be ready on race day, and it isn't overly demanding on your time (less than 10 hours per week, even during the most intense training segments). This schedule is based on the one put forward in "Run Your First Marathon" by Grete Waitz and is specifically tailored to novices with some running experience (i.e., people who are able to run 3–4 miles without stopping). It's recommended that you run one local 10K and one half-marathon race to familiarize yourself with race-day preparation. I chose not to do either of these because I had run a lot of 5K–10K races before, and it wasn't a problem.

The first three numbers in each week represent week-day runs, and the fourth number represents a long run on Saturday or Sunday. This training program allows for three rest days per week, but adding one day can be a good idea providing your body isn't showing signs of wearing down. After each run, try to allow for 10 minutes for stretching.

Week 1: 3, 3, 3, 5 (Total = 14)
Week 2: 3, 4, 4, 5 (Total = 16)
Week 3: 4, 4, 4, 6 (Total = 18)
Week 4: 4, 4, 4, 8 (Total = 20)
Week 5: 3, 3, 3, 6 (Total = 15, cut-back week, 10K race)
Week 6: 4, 5, 4, 9 (Total = 22)
Week 7: 5, 5, 4, 10 (Total = 24)
Week 8: 5, 6, 4, 12 (Total = 27)
Week 9: 5, 6, 5, 13 (Total = 29)
Week 10: 4, 4, 4, 13 (Total = 25, cut-back week, half-marathon race)
Week 11: 6, 6, 5, 14 (Total = 31)
Week 12: 6, 6, 5, 16 (Total = 33)
Week 13: 6, 7, 6, 18 (Total = 37)
Week 14: 6, 8, 6, 20 (Total = 40)
Week 15: 4, 5, 4 13 (Total = 26)
Week 16: 3, 4, 3, 26 (Total = 36, cut-back week, marathon race)



I'll just add two things that I learned two years ago during my training. The first is that as you approach roughly 12 miles for your long training runs (~Week 8), in-run nutrition becomes very important. You should plan on driving your running route beforehand to leave Gatorade and food that you can eat on the run (PowerBars, Gu, bananas, etc.). You'll probably want to take in some fluids and some calories at least every 4 miles. Everyone's body responds differently, but I have found that without in-run nutrition, my body tends to run out of glycogen (a.k.a. "hits the wall") at about 15 miles. You'll just need to experiment a bit to find out what works for you. The second piece of advice I can offer is that your running shoes will likely be worn out around ~Week 14 (between 300 and 350 miles) of your training. It's important to break in a new pair in the weeks leading up to the race, so that you can have good shoes to run on and so that you can be confident that you won't get blisters, etc. In Germany, I was too poor to afford new shoes, and it was just awful for my knees to run on shoes that were completely spent for such a long distance



As for the time, it's really not crucial. For your first marathon, finishing is the ultimate goal. That being said, it's helpful for your training to keep track of how fast you're running. For my first marathon, I finished just under 4 h (slightly under 9 minutes per mile). That was a very comfortable pace, but I still placed in the top 10% of finishers.



For more details, check back here later, or better yet, go buy Grete's book!

Game Over

After many, many months of avoiding its wrath, The Wall struck back with a vengeance today.

I have been upping the intensity and tempo of my workouts recently in an effort to make a push to qualify for Boston at the Long Beach Marathon in October. Sand has been my terrain of choice, which has been soothing for my bum ankle, but has taken some getting used to for my legs. It's also been wonderful to take advantage of cool mornings along the Pacific Ocean. Beach running is quite tranquil. Plus, when the tide goes out, the footing is secure and solid. I've noticed that the hard-packed sand still dissipates a lot more energy than does concrete, but it's not so choppy that it breaks up my cadence.

After a weekend away from running due to traveling, I was eager to kick up the distance this weekend (while at the same time staying productive at work on Saturday and Sunday), so I devised a schedule that looked something like this...

Friday night: sleep four hours
Saturday morning: run four hours (25–30 miles)
Saturday night: sleep four hours
Sunday morning: run four hours (25–30 miles)

Saturday's run was fast and punishing, covering a course that was roughly ten miles on sand and went over the two steepest hills in La Jolla. Naturally, I had the bright idea to repeat this course on Sunday morning. After a rocky first few miles, my pace steadied quite nicely, and it was shaping up to be a smooth run. Two and a half hours, I was making the turn back from Del Mar and heading home. I had consumed about 100 ounces of liquid and one energy bar (read: Snickers).

I crossed the long stretch of beach in the Torrey Pines reserve and began surmounting the hill along the tortuous footpath there. After a few minutes, I felt suddenly hollow and listless -- utter deflation, and ravenous hunger. I reached for my remaining energy bar, only to find out that it had fallen out of my pocket earlier in the run. At this point fatigue and desperation merged. I resorted to a mix of running and power walking. Unfortunately, I was still around seven miles away from home. After getting to the crest of the hill, I tried to ease my hunger by slurping down copious amounts of water from a drinking fountain, which did little, except leave me feeling wet, water-logged, and still hungry. I kept my legs churning towards home, and managed to get within a few blocks before my mind really started wandering to hidden corners of consciousness. The music that I was listening to (a familiar song that I've heard hundreds of times) sounded as if it was playing at twice its regular speed. The people that I passed seemed oddly alien -- they were on their way to the grocery store, while my mind and body were waging all out war on one another. I was light but my legs and body were heavy.

I entered my apartment and immediately started eating anything in sight: yogurt, cashews, bananas, Fritos, ice cream, and peaches. I cleaned up and tried to go about my day, but (as friends will attest to) my mind was not working normally -- not to mention the fact that my body kept bursting into random, profuse sweating fits during the day.

Truly, an epic journey that makes me curious what the end of a 100-miles race is like.

Boston (not the marathon, yet)

I've been in Boston for the past few days chaperoning a group of high school interns who are presenting research posters at the American Chemical Society (ACS) National Meeting.



Evidently I planned well for the rainy weather because I didn't even bring running shoes -- packing light in order to avoid checking luggage. Nevertheless, I did have an inspiring running moment in the middle of my trip.



Like a good Boston local, I spent a rainy Monday afternoon with my friend Margaret on a Duck Boat tour of downtown Boston. Beyond being interesting historical relics (given their military history as amphibious trucks), the Duck Boats actually provide a unique opportunity to have a look at Boston from within its bustling streets or from the more placid (and now mostly clean) Charles River. My motivating and inspiring moment came as we drove across the blue finish line for the Boston Marathon (not shown). I had been toying with the idea of qualifying for some time now (3:10:00 + 1 min buffer). However, since my dream of running a 100-mile trail ultra in early September recently died because my hectic travel schedule precluded me from getting in enough miles, I've become much more narrowly focused on become faster and BQing. Seeing the finish line in actuality crystallized my desire to qualify this fall. It's full speed ahead from here -- running, I mean, not driving a Duck Boat (awesome photos included).

The South. The Heat.

As it turns out, The South is remarkably hot and remarkably muggy in the summer months. No doubt, Southern California has spoiled me to the point where low humidity and steady ocean breezes seem to be the norm. I'm currently staying at Davidson College (30 minutes outside of Charlotte, NC), where I am attending the 2010 Gordon Research Conference in Green Chemistry. I've managed to brave the heat each of the past two afternoons for mid-day runs, experiences which certainly probed my courage and conviction (what with temperatures nearing 100 degrees). On the first day, I followed a path around the perimeter of the college, which is rather small, and into the surrounding neighborhoods. The campus here has an aged beauty, with classic red brick buildings and chivalrous southern air to it. Today, I followed advice given to me independently be two Davidson alums and ran an 8 km cross country train behind the basketball stadium. Since the weather has been rainy, parts of the train were a bit of a chore, but overall it was a splendid run, with cicadas noisily chirping over Korean pop music playing on my iPod. My hydration levels were tested when I dropped my room key in a sunny clearing (literally having to walk back and forth along the the path in direct sunlight for around five minutes while clumsily fumbling for the key without my glasses). However, a prompt return to the shade proved to be revitalizing.



At the end of the trail, I was greeted by a group from the GRC who had come out to a nearby soccer field for a pickup game, which I gladly (if doggedly) participated in. Sloshing around on the wet field, I managed to thoroughly stain my new shoes and to make somewhat of a fool of myself while sliding over, around, and past the ball. The return to my air-conditioned room and an immediate shower were divine.

This, I gather, is southern running in the summer.

Gear

I'm a purist. And as such, I try to minimize my use of superfluous running equipment. During the past two years, I've broken down and become a full-fledged iPod runner, and I've succumbed to the need for hand-held water bottles in ultrarunning events (and in the training leading up to them). However, when it comes to watches, heart monitors, GPSs, and waist packs, I draw the line.

To me the essence of running is the feeling of one's body gliding through space, over ground, and around obstacles. In this respect, I find that a minimalistic approach is the best way to distill this feeling. Gear is cumbersome. It's weighty. It generally feels awkward. And, it takes us further from the primal state of being unadorned sentient beings moving across the planet that we inhabit. Further away from the beauty and purity of simple movement.

Mental Toughness

The phrase "mental toughness" is tossed around frequently when the subject of distance running comes up, and from what I've gathered, it seems that many non-runners misconceive the ways in which cognitive fortitude manifests itself in one's running life. During a race, rarely have been in a state of utter fatigue and suffering, often because I have adhered to a training program designed to get me to the finish line comfortably. At that point the battle is really not mental--it's merely a matter of executing a plan for which I've been practicing for several months. The true mental struggle comes in the preparation. The act of being steady and disciplined in training is a major challenge--it has been for me, and I expect that it is for others. In contrast to race day, where waking up early is simple due to excitement and running at a brisk pace is easy because of the crowd, on a daily basis, the particulars of a running lifestyle are taxing. Personally, contentment and revitalization have come as I've learned to allow running to seep into life's natural rhythm. It's becoming akin to eating or sleeping in the sense that I'm not deliberate in choosing to do it on a given day. Rather, it's become ingrained as part of my life: the steady thudding of my shoes against the pavement like the beating of my heart, both metronomes of liveliness.

Moving Forward

Yesterday morning, I had a rejuvenating run to Del Mar. The route, which tracks along N. Torrey Pines Rd., has emerged as one of my favorites in the La Jolla area. There is a splendid view of the Pacific as one runs northward and passes over the crest of a coastal ridge. In the early morning, the fresh saltiness of the seawater is pervasive, and the cool breeze off the ocean is soothing. On the way back there is a rather large hill to surmount, which is tiring, but makes offers useful terrain variation.



It was the first time that I've made the trek since the AR50, and it was a much-needed dose of intensity to what has felt like a stagnant few weeks. The path that I normally follow when running to Del Mar requires 3 hours (roughly 20 miles), and yesterday was no exception. I followed this outing with two hours of soccer at the all-Chinese pick-up game later that afternoon. Dizzying exhaustion overtook me by the end, but having my energy sapped was what I needed.

I've been struggling with soreness in my left knee for the past two weeks. It's a nagging sort of injury that doesn't seem to get worse with activity, but also doesn't seem to improve with rest. Stationary biking (both before and after running) has provided some help in loosening up the joint. I've been too stubborn to cease activity all together, but I hope that healing comes soon, as I begin to plan for a 100-mile race this fall.

Hooked

Ultrarunning is in my blood now.

I fully planned to have a miserable times and be crawling on my hands and knees by the time I reached the 50-mile mark last week, but instead the experience was tremendous.

I was eager to get out on the road for some decompression running as early as Tuesday, April 13th, but I forced myself to rest for a week because I had been feeling such dramatic burnout prior to the actual race. But after running for two consecutive mornings, I feel the gnawing anticipation again...

Having accomplished something big, I'm compelled to be increasingly more ambitious in selecting new goals. I've meditated on it for a few days, and I want to get back to ultrarunning as soon as possible. I'm planning to enter the WS100 lottery this fall, but if I can I'd like to squeeze in a 100-mile race in September or October.

2010 American River 50-Mile Endurance Run

Finished!

The American River 50-Mile Endurance Run: 9:03:40.

The race was a tremendous adventure. Race day could not have gone more smoothly. Miraculously Justin, Janice and I found the start without any trouble. Immediately after we arrived, the feeling of togetherness and intimacy was palpable. Firstly, with only around 700 participants, we were able to park several hundred feet from the start line -- something that is unthinkable at most big-city marathons. Secondly, people were gathered talking over coffee -- after all there's little need to warm up. Thirdly, it's a small community. Very few people are interested in ultrarunning, and those who are seem to have a fair amount in common.



Throughout the race, my body held up exceptionally well, which I suppose is a testament to the brutal training that I endured in the months leading up to the race -- many early, early mornings spent running long, lonely routes. I fully expected to falter in the 35-45 mile range, but to the contrary I felt pure tranquility (the so-called runners' high) for nearly that whole period. The first half of the course was road and the second half was trail. Since I train exclusively on the road, I expected to find the trail running quite bothersome. Thus, I was quite shocked to find that I greatly preferred the trail -- particularly when I could find pockets of solitude. It felt both daring and peaceful.



Two of my friends from UC Berkeley, Justin and Janice, were there to support me at roughly 7-mile intervals. Their presence was a terrific psychological boost. After hours alone in the woods, a familiar face is like a sunrise. In addition to these publicly accessible check points there were a myriad of other aid stations (roughly one every three miles in total). The workers were phenomenal. At the last aid station at Mile 47, one worker actually ran up to me grabbed my water bottles, ran back to fill them, and then ran several hundred feet after me, all so that I wouldn't have to break my stride!



In the last three miles, the course gains roughly 800 feet of elevation, which makes for a challenging finish. I was quite shocked to find myself flying by people -- I truly discovered hidden reserves of resilience!

My split after marathon distance was something around 4:23:00, so I kept a fairly steady pace (particularly considering how much more difficult the terrain was in the latter half).

At the finish line, Justin and Janice were waiting for me with a Red Bull, which I promptly shotgunned.



The remainder of the day was pure radiance, devoid of all things commonplace. Transcendent, fast, and mad.

En Route

And I'm off. I'm currently on my way to Sacramento, having woken early for the 8-9 hour drive. The runner check-in runs until 7 pm tonight, but beating LA traffic north on I5 is my main priority.

When I've successfully done that, then perhaps I can think about the race. Until now, I've been able to keep anxiety and nervousness at bay.

Wish me luck!

The Beginning

I aim to become an ultrarunner. And soon.

On Saturday, April 10th, I'll be taking part in the American River 50-Mile (AR50) Endurance Run in Sacramento, CA. It will be my first ultradistance event, and I feel very much like I did as a freshman at UMich prior to my first organic chemistry exam: confident yet wary.

By no means am I a blogger, but I've decided to start this site to keep track of my running adventures as I prepare for a transcontinental run in May 2011. As there are a myriad of running blogs on the web, I don't anticipate that site will metamorphose into anything grand, but I do hope to be able to offer periodic updates for friends, family members, and the numerous people that I expect to meet through running. Beyond that motivation, I anticipate that the simple act of recording anecdotes and musings about my running life will help keep me honest in pursuing my goals and will lead to many fond and humorous memories for my future self.

At the moment, having adhered to a rigorous training program since early January, I am psychologically burnt out. Though my leg feel fresh every morning when I leave my apartment, it has been harder and harder to force myself out of bed and out the door before sunrise each morning. I look forward to a few weeks of respite following the AR50. (Though, if previous experience is any indicator, I will be a itching for activity after a few days.)

This week it's a light mileage diet. Next Saturday, my career as an ultrarunner begins.