Little ‘Flat and Fast,’ Plenty of Challenge

Race Report: OhioOutside.com Trail Race Series #2 of 3
Saturday, November 14

This race was eventful enough to merit a write-up, even at risk of turning things here into what I vowed they wouldn’t become – a long race account saturated with excessive details and microdramas of personal experience. I’ll try to limit that and provide some observations which may be useful to anyone who tries the final race in the series on December 12.

I entered at the last minute, and with some misgivings, since the race location is (after years of excessive discretionary travel to bike races) farther than I like to drive – ~85 miles round-trip. One of the nice things about running is that events are plentiful enough that you don’t have to go anything like as far to compete, so the impact on budget, schedule, and the environment is much less.

Perhaps what drew me to this race in particular is the fact that it took place at Munroe Falls Metro Park, whose parkway serves as the course for a spring bicycle race series I officiated a total of 20 times from 1998-2002. It’s an outstanding venue that has nonetheless seen quite a few serious crashes over the years, certainly more than you’d expect. I’d often wondered what lies in the woods outside the course, and with the trails likely to be in good shape from the recent dry spell, plus perfect weather on race day, the time seemed right for an excursion beyond the usual travel radius.

Right off the bat after arriving, whom should I see but Mark Gorman, a Cat. 3 road cyclist who once suffered a memorable mishap when he and, as I recall, several others were taken down by a rider with some sketchy (to put it mildly) bike handling “skills.” The crash perpetrator just rode on – I think he eventually won the race – oblivious to the carnage (not to mention anger) in his wake.

Now, there’s no way a single referee can be everywhere on a 1.2-mile course, and I did in fact miss all the excitement, arriving shortly afterward to find Mark, um, rather out-of-sorts. In a case like this, you give the crash victim clipboard, pen, and paper, then have him sit down to describe the incident; if there are multiple victims, you give writing materials to each of them (that’s why I still have 6 mini-clipboards) and send them off in opposite directions. It calms things down by 1) separating everyone; 2) making them concentrate; and 3) allowing them a chance to vent. While you can’t make a decision (e.g., disqualification) based on the resulting statement(s), it all goes in an active file for possible future action. In this case, several other similar reports lead to a brief “counseling session” with the alleged menace to bike race society, after which there were no further problems.

So I just had to remind Mark of this episode: “Hey, I think Lee Runyon [not his real name] is here!”

I shouldn’t have been surprised to see Mark, since he runs the web site that is the primary race sponsor (I’d forgotten that), but it didn’t stop there: the whole race staff was made up of bike race people who seemed glad to see me, one of whom I (embarrasingly) didn’t quite recognize at first. “Agh, I thought I'd escaped my misbegotten past!” “Having a flashback?,” someone asked. Well, not quite, but...

[Sigh.]

It’s happened. I’ve degenerated to the level of purely personal reflection. Back to the race.

After packet pick-up, there was enough time for a preview lap, and it’s a good thing, because the course turned out to be anything but “fast and flat,” as claimed at the race website. A series of 30 photographs is also posted there, and they give a good impression of the trail features present, but not the extent of the gradient changes.

After a run-up of ~210 yards across a grass field, the parkway, and a paved parking lot, the course transitioned to a ~2.2 mile trail, which started off mellow enough with a mild rise on a gravel-sand patch, followed by a short dirt/grassy section.

At Beaver Pond, however, came the first of several short-but-fairly-steep pitches, with tree roots (not just a single one here and there, but little networks of them), frequent 6-inch wide/deep gulleys, and an occasional protruding rock. Of course, all these features were present on the corresponding downhill sections too, along with many twists and turns. Finishing off the circuit was a set of old stone stairs, where you turned back toward the start area for the finishing straight after completing a second lap. Add it all up, and I think the descriptor “challenging” would be more appropriate.

I reported this to Paul Heyse, a good, consistent 19:30 5K runner and a newspaper reporter whose coverage of local high school track and cross-country (among other sports) is much appreciated. “Keep an eye on the trail in front of you so you don’t fall, and let the runner immediately ahead keep a decent gap in case he falls,” I said. As it turned out, one eye was about all that Paul had – one of his contacts had slipped out.

On the starting line, more biker trash people: Brian Batke and Tris Hopkins, two very solid Cat. 2s. Brian is a national-class masters competitor, particularly gifted as a climber and time trialist, and Tris isn’t far behind. I dialed back any thoughts of an age-group placing by a spot. The race organizer (Mark) made a few comments about the course, pointed toward the finish, and said something like “It should be clear.” Not really; it was different than the official course map. Here’s a detail map of how the start/finish area is actually set up:



Off we went, and I felt like I did a good job of staying relaxed and letting the fast starters get away (Coach Roy Benson recently wrote a nice article about this). Passing the little hourglass symbol on the map above, I hit the split button on my watch to start the lap timer. There were no mile markers on the course, and they would have been of limited value in any case due to the variation in terrain, so lap times were about the only way to gauge how well energy output was regulated.

Per my instructions to Paul, I made certain to let a small gap remain in front of me once we reached the first gnarly trail section, and sure enough, the guy directly in front of me tumbled hard, but rolled perfectly and popped right back up. If you’re going to fall, that’s how to do it.

No fewer than four runners burst past rather impressively once we reached the hilly parts of that first lap. My reaction was the same as always: ‘If they can keep or increase the gap, there’s nothing I can do about it, if not, I’ll see them again before the finish,’ or to quote Jack Daniels (yet again): “Remember that the finish line is at the end of the race.” And indeed, I caught all of them, plus a few others, on the second lap, when they were looking much less impressive.

At the completion of the first lap, I hit the split button, and thought I saw 17:31. I resolved to be even more careful on second lap, as fatigue began to accumulate, but also since familiarity tends to breed complacency – if you stay vigilant and get through one circuit, it’s only natural to relax a bit as you figure there will be no problem the second time around.

After his tumble, the ‘Fall Guy’ and I more or less stayed together all the way to Heron Pond late in the second lap, where I started to ease away from him. Shortly after that, another guy came up on my shoulder, breathing very heavily. Usually this means a superhuman has just been made, and you expect the person to fade, but given how late in the race it was, I wasn’t so sure. I did start to pull away near the end of the lap, but lost the advantage on the staircase, where any technique I had on the first lap vanished due to fatigue – I must have looked like an old lady as I came down ever-so-carefully, one step at a time, with ‘Heavy Breather’ right on my heels. I was able to open up a gap on the run-in, but misjudged the finish, not realizing that you had to go past it and around a set of cones, then head back – a total distance of ¼ mile. Still, I had a little extra ‘gear’ in the final meters, which was enough to hold off the Fall Guy, but Heavy Breather came past in the last 10 meters or so. My time at the clock timer, which apparently was the finish line, was 37:10.7 (the official results incorrectly give 36:47) – good enough for only 7th of 17 in my age group, which was the biggest overall (as well as highest in quality after 19-24 & 25-29), and 31st of 82 men overall. The total turnout doubled, from 76 to 143, as compared to the first race in the series, when my time would have been good enough for 3rd in age group.

After finishing, I gave my goody bag, with a nicely customized commemorative beer glass and a push-top sports bottle, to the Fall Guy – out of sympathy, gratitude (for his skill), and admiration (for his tenaciousness).

The second lap was turned in 17:27, so at first I though I’d ‘split negative’ (sped up as the race went on), which surprised me somewhat, but once at home, I found the first lap time was actually 17:13, so the first/second lap split ratio was 49.7%/50.3%, or slight positive. Not bad, at least according to this analysis.

Overall, I was really glad just to stay upright throughout the whole race. I’ve done plenty of training on trails just as hilly/gnarly, with shadows/broken sunlight, darkness, snow, and leaves obscuring trail hazards, but there is considerable difference between racing all-out on an unfamiliar trail and training on one you’ve repeated dozens of times.

A Perfect Race?

Race Report: Inland Trail 5K
Sunday, November 1

Elyria

I almost didn’t do this race, which has a course as close to optimal as possible: fast, flat, smooth, and lovely. I figured, from past experience, that I would probably more or less duplicate last week’s time from the Skeleton Run, which was just slightly better than last year’s.

But I guess that’s why you show up: to see what you can do. It might turn out to be the perfect race, as this one did.

It sure didn’t start off that way. Maybe 75 meters after the start I see this guy dropping out and making a sharp beeline back to the school that serves as the start/registration venue. Now that is some kind of nature call, I thought. Soon, however, it began to filter through the pack: the 5K was to start after the marathon. Now I had to extricate myself from a pack of 150+ runners. All I could think was that the 5K would start a minute afterward, and I’d be too late.

All was well, as it the start turned out to be 10 minutes later, which gave me a little more time to warm up. After a while, I happened upon the race promoter and reminded him that the race web site said “8 AM start.”

“You must be one the four people who didn’t hear me announce the start time in the school,” he answered. Um, isn’t the starting line the place to announce such information, to make sure everyone gets the word?

No matter, soon we were off, and I settled in at 20th or so in a field of 51. The first mile went by in 6:39, by which time I’d passed maybe 5 runners. I figured I’d probably fade to 7:00 for the second mile, then come home in 6:50 – a common pattern for me.

Not this time. The second mile was 6:47 and I felt good, so I knew I was on a good day; at that point it became my goal to simply keep from getting excited and ‘blowing it by blowing up,’ i.e., staying smooth instead of surging. Mission accomplished, as the last mile was 6:46, and I probably lost a couple seconds when I crossed the road (to run against traffic) in the last half mile, whereas most others probably did the opposite. I passed another 10 runners, including the first woman, who has a much better PR than I, to end up 5th overall, and closing on 3rd and 4th. Official time was 20:47, my first time under 21:00 and another PR by 22 seconds on a certified course. I suppose it doesn’t get much better than that: hitting an all-time peak in the race where you planned to do it. Not that I have any illusions; the race winner was 5+ minutes ahead, and the turnout was the smallest of any run I’ve entered thus far (28 in the last 3 years).

Oh, and some credit where credit is due, namely to the aptly-named Adizero PRs:

Just 283.5 grams, but surprisingly comfortable. This was the first time they’ve been raced (maybe unconsciously I sensed I was on a good day), and it will be the last until the form is good enough once again to merit their use.

The new training pattern

The 4 days on/1 day off regime (previously discussed here) has worked beautifully, as I have been able to work up to and sustain a higher training load than ever before, yet with less fatigue. Alternating short and longer workouts while carefully adding no more than 10-15 minutes to each 5-day cycle – even when more was possible – I leveled off with a pattern of (in minutes) 45-67-45-67/day off, or an average of 5 hours 20 minutes a week. Had I attempted that much with a 6 on/1 off pattern, there would likely have been more fatigue, or else I would have had to settle for less volume.

Intensity for all runs has been right around ~90% of ‘functional threshold pace’ (FTP being defined as what can be sustained for a ~50 minute run), which corresponds to the ‘best aerobic pace’ that Lydiard used to advocate, leaving you ‘pleasantly tired’ and allowing enough (but not complete) recovery overnight for the next run, such that the training load can be sustained indefinitely with relative comfort, or at least without excess fatigue (i.e., enough to disrupt the training cycle and impose a period of extended rest).

“Train, don’t strain,” Lydiard used to say, or, put another way, “work, don’t suffer.” The intensity may be challenging at times, but manageable, while workouts may be somewhat difficult to complete, but not a struggle.

Even better news is the fact that the typical average pace has been faster than what I was doing on the same courses last October during a period of peak performance.

Thus, the PR-equaling time that happened today while out of town at the Chase for the Taste 5K in Des Plaines, Illinois, should not have been too great of a surprise. Mile splits were 6:42, 6:56, and 7:07, and they are probably valid, since this race is CARA- (Chicago Area Runners Association) and USATF-certified, so the course should be accurate. I don’t fault myself too much for the fast start and slow finish, since a fair part of the ‘out’ portion was downhill with a tailwind, and vice-versa coming back.

I say the PR “happened” because I have done none of the anaerobic capacity training (400m track intervals) necessary for peak form in a 5K; they seem bring another 40 seconds or so of improvement after as much aerobic fitness as possible has been built up, so a goal of 20:40 seems within reach, however, today’s performance was aided by the taper from several easy/off days due to travel in the days leading up to the race.

One-year fitness comparison

Just like it was in 2008, today’s Dara Hosta 5K in Olmsted Falls was my first race of the season, and as such allows comparison of current fitness to the same point one year ago.

This run starts and finishes at Harding Stadium, where I do my track workouts, and to aid with pacing, I marked off the first ¼ mile and ½ mile from the start (a GPS-enabled watch can help with this, but being something of a retro-grouch, I don’t have one yet). It’s been my experience that early feedback and adjustment of pace in relation to what you have planned can help greatly optimizing the overall energy output (assuming you have chosen reasonable pacing goals, of course!) By the second mile (and even the latter portion of the first, depending on the chosen pace), perceived exertion will have caught up with the pace, and can be reliably used to modulate effort in relation to the distance remaining to be run. On the other hand, if you go out too fast and wait until the first mile split to find out, it can have a significantly adverse effect on energy output, and on performance. As Jack Daniels has observed, “The biggest mistake you can make in a distance race is in the first minute.”

The plan worked well, as confirmed by mile splits of 7:03, 7:12, and 7:05 on the virtually dead-flat course; several runners were caught in the last mile, and at the finish I was just 3 seconds (one place) behind the winner of my age group . Unfortunately, I didn’t know it was he just in front of me, otherwise I might have been able to catch him – or not, but it would have been nice to know.

The course was unchanged and conditions were nearly identical to last year, all of which validate comparison to 2008’s time of 22:40, so it would seem there has been a 3.3% improvement in fitness, but given that there has also been a 6.9% reduction in body mass in the year since, it is possible I am a bit behind where I was a year ago. That’s not surprising, given the 6-week injury layoff in January/February.

I’m not one to fill up blogspace by recounting every last race detail, but one does stand out. With less than a mile to go, I passed Jack Urbanek, an old classmate who ran cross-country ‘back in the day.’ I’ve measured myself against him for a couple years, since his times were well ahead of mine, but seemed like they might come within reach someday. I figured if I could finish close to or ahead of him eventually, it would be an accomplishment, since he was a ‘real’ runner, good enough to run on the varsity. I actually mentioned this ambition to him, and before the Celebrate Westlake 5-miler a couple years back, he pointed to his knee brace and said ‘This is your day to beat me’ or something like that. Naturally, I didn’t, leading me to realize that Jack on one good leg was better than I am with two good ones.

In passing by, I gave him a thumbs-up and said something really original like ‘Hey Jack.’ He responded by surging hard and opening up a decent gap. Jack’s as laid-back as they come, but I thought he might have misunderstood the gesture or the words. In any case, I held steady and didn’t try to match the move (I never do in such instances), since I don’t have much to surge with, and had I tried to, I’d have blown up for sure. I always tell myself, ‘If they can keep or increase the gap, there’s nothing I can do about it, if not, I’ll see them again before the finish.’

So I just continued smoothly along, gradually ramping up the pace, and was able to go by decisively in the last half-mile. Jack has a tendency to vanish quickly after the race, so there was no chance to offer an explanation, if one was needed.