Blog Post

The War Eagle races are on the beautiful single track, mild to slightly moderate technical trails of Hobbs State Park in Rogers, Arkansas. I do a lot of training runs out here and have run the 50k event the past 3 years, so I know these trails well.. This year I would be doing the 25k for the first time. The mindset for this race was “race/training run/experiment”. My big races this year are all 50k - 57 mile range and my training is geared toward that. This would be a “just go for it” kinda race. Coach initially asked if I could cover my watch with tape so I could gather the data, but not see it, really challenging me to race by feel. That is a tall order for me.... During shorter races I am heavily reliant on my watch for pacing and HR data. I decided not to cover the watch, but also not, only to allow heart rate to be viewed and at that I only planned to look only occasionally, to see if feel was correlating with HR. I didn’t let myself have any awareness of my pace or my time during the race.

With 400+ starters between the 25k and 50k, the start would be interesting to say the least. There is about 150 meters of parking lot before entering a 24 inch wide single track trail comprising the rest of the race. Not to mention the ½ mile fairly steep descent about a half mile in. We decided to have me get to the front and jump out fast early and ease up after a mile or two and run “a little out of my comfort zone”. In my mind this was an effort that lay somewhere between “I’m not sure I can maintain this effort for 14 mi” to backing off a little at the “Ok, there’s no way I can do this much longer effort”. I was nervous as I always am at races. I was afraid having come of Cruel Jewel my race would be flat and effort high with low heart rate and slow pace. My speedwork session earlier in the week seemed harder than it should fueling that concern.

As time came to line up at the start, I worked my way to the front and found a few friends including Tom. There were many young, college age guys chomping at the bit, talking nervously with this a first trail race for many and a first 50k for some. The University of Arkansas (with a huge track program)  is close and the Rogers/Bentonville AR running community is huge….this is an understatement. So this race brings lots of strong runners. A few minutes before the start, Tom leans over to me and says “watch me, I’ll be the first one on the trail….I’m gonna hit like a 6:30/mi pace going out and probably sub 8 the first 2 miles. Tom of course will slow down after a mile or two and race a reasonable effort/pace the rest of the way (still well ahead of most). I confided I would enjoy watching him take off, and I too intended to get a jump on the trail, but had no intention of hanging on his shirt tail.

Soon enough, the RD yelled “Ready, set, GO!” and we were off. Sure enough, Tom was first on the trail and I heard others commenting on the ridiculous pace we were all running at….note.. we were ALL running at! It was hilarious, the younger guys just wide-eyed...and of course we hit the single track and all slowed down to a more reasonable, but still fast pace. I continued to move at what felt like a fast pace until I could tell my heart rate caught up. We hit that first descent followed by the first climb. There were two girls in front of me, one just behind the other and they were out of sight quickly. I focused on my effort, staying on the border of “I’m not sure I can maintain this high of an effort” and “There’s no way I can maintain this effort”. I was pleased with how my legs were doing. I was still worried they would fatigue quickly and kept waiting for it to happen, but they held out well ‘till the last 2 miles. I was definitely uncomfortable, but having a blast! My goal was  to try and close as much gap on those 2 girls as I could.  

Here I am early on pushing that comfort zone and wondering if I was gonna be able to keep it up.

My stomach wasn’t having as much fun though. I ate a really rich granola cereal about 2 hours before the race and it sat like a rock. I tried to take sips of water as I went...It was very humid and 70s temps, but it felt like breakfast was in my throat. I didn’t realize until after the race how high my effort was the first hour or so..I was in zone 5b for much of it. At that effort I don’t think I really should’ve tried to force fluids and breakfast was too heavy. It didn’t occur to me that my upset stomach was related to my effort, I didn’t think my effort was quite that high. I’m also used to fueling and hydrating for longer runs/races. It didn’t occur to me I wouldn’t need much. By around an hour and a half in I had taken about 14oz water, which added to my woes, and was convinced I likely needed electrolytes. I switched out my water bottle for a bottle of sport drink and popped 2 electrolyte capsules and left the aid station. Within a couple of minutes I was dry heaving. The electrolyte capsules now lodged in my throat...not coming up or going down which made me dry heave more...nothing doing. I was pissed, it felt like a giant bug was stuck in my throat, triggering my gag reflex, but not able to bring it up or get it down. The only option was to try and drink to get them down. I choked down some sport drink and my stomach cramped, but at least the capsules went down.  I knew I was about 4 miles from the finish. I poured out most of my sport drink, just the thought of another sip made me want to vomit, and I didn’t feel like carrying a full bottle to the next aid station.  I knew the next aid station was only a mile or two away and I would refill with water, sip and try and absorb those electrolyte capsules which my stomach was cramping about. I hit the last 2 mile aid station and drank a little water. By this point my effort was high and my movement was very slow. My legs had suddenly decided they were done! It felt like I was running through oatmeal.

Right before the finish there is this little, maybe 50 meter hill that pops up onto the parking lot. I decided I would walk this (I had already walked 90% of the last hill less than a mile back), when I heard, “Lori! Get your ass up here!”. I thought, “Awe shit, I’ve been caught”. I knew that voice. It was James.. He’d already finished. His goal was sub 2 hour and I was hoping to hang on and get somewhere close to him. I moaned and rolled my eyes, realizing  I was now going to have to run up that damn little hill! Up and onto the pavement and finished in 2:24. A ways off my lofty goal of around 2...but I knew that was out of reach before I ever started. I was, and still am so pleased with my effort and when I went back and looked at my data it confirmed I was pushing that fine line, probably went a bit over it too early on leading to the crash and burn before the finish. It showed good endurance though, and was a confidence booster giving me a sense that I can race by feel and get out of my comfort zone for a pretty extended period of time. It was fun to really push my limits out there, and overall I had a really great day. As a matter of fact, this was probably my most satisfying 25k races ever.

Question:  How do I peak for my big race.

Answer:  This is a tricky question as I believe an effective “peak” in fitness first starts with a well thought out training plan and more importantly, a prioritized race schedule. This all sets the stage for the peak process, making your run fitness as race specific as possible. Peaking is a mysterious art, especially in running. For many reasons, it is just not easy to achieve one’s highest possible level of performance on the day of a major goal race or peak part of the season, despite all the effort and care that goes into planning and training to produce peak results.

I see it all the time, runners tend to race very well early in the competitive season and fall flat toward the end of the season, when they should hit their peak. The reason, I believe, is that they start to do race specific training too early in the season and do too much cardiovascular conditioning in preparation for early season races. I have mentioned in previous blogs that the development of endurance is associated with the functional specialization of the skeletal muscles, particularly the enhancement of their strength and neuromuscular qualities, rather than the improvement of prolonged cardiovascular ability.

And to experience great gains in strength and speed endurance, one should aim to eliminate the disparity between the anaerobic and aerobic abilities of the muscles. If this is not the focus early in the season and carried out to some extent all season, there is a tendency to do too much endurance or cardiovascular training and peaking too soon or plateauing, which many times cause the runner to over train. 

To drive this home, here are some points to ponder:

• Why do athletes with equivalent VO2 max levels perform different results?

• Why do VO2 max results in elite athletes stabilize as results continue to improve?

• Why is there a decreasing correlation between VO2 max and improved times?

This could indicate that VO2 max or cardiovascular efficiency on its own is no guarantee of an outstanding performance and that a runner's body can only progressively adapt to race specific training for a few weeks until a limit is reached. For this reason, I assign about 6 weeks of race specific training leading up to the athlete’s seasonal peak or race occurs.

Once the athlete hits the peak phase, they are now ready for a reduction in weekly volume of about 50% and also a heavy dose of hard intervals. These hard intervals heighten neuromuscular coordination and enhance economy, in concert with the easier overall weekly volume for recovery.

As coordination and efficiency at high speed improve from these hard intervals, the athlete’s previous race pace is now faster, because the oxygen cost of running at that speed has fallen. Thus, one reaches VO2 max at a higher speed than previously, and might explain why there is a decreasing correlation between VO2 max results and peak performance.

Merely regulating or limiting the duration of your race specific or peak phase of training will not guarantee a successful peak, however. There are a few tricks you can use to reliably increase the odds of peaking successfully. As mentioned above, your peak phase should include a reduction in weekly volume and include hard intervals once or twice a week while all other riding is easy.

If you feel you are peaking too soon or need to extend your peak longer than a 3-4 week period, integrate some tempo runs to ‘massage’ your form and prolong it for the duration required. If you are in your peak time of year, your heart rate should be very responsive, elevate quickly, and be higher than during your heavy training phase.

If you notice this is not the case and your heart rate is low and slow to respond, be sure to take 2-4 days of recovery riding or reduce you peak training volume even more. Your legs need the recovery and a lower heart rate is NOT an indication of peak fitness.

And finally, you should taper not just before your big races but on a monthly basis. After all, since tapering is such a great thing, why reserve it for just a couple of times a year? If you taper for the last five to seven days of each month, you'll find that your fitness will move upward in sizable jumps, instead of just creeping up a little or - worse yet - stagnating at the same level.

For those that are interested; I again performed the 20 minute run test on Friday night at the same place as I performed my initial 20 minute test 11 weeks ago but this time in the dark. By the time I had returned home from work, changed and headed out it was all but dark. I drove to the local oval, a different one to where I did the Mile test, put the light on my head and started my warm up as per the Strategic Running Program.

By the time I had completed the warm up it was dark and with no lights on at the oval or club rooms and the few street lights in the area shielded by trees and distance it was Black! Again I ran the test in my B2R Trail shoes and they felt great. I ran around a loop that is about 800M of gravel except for 25 metre's of concrete path behind the club rooms. I focused of form and breathing trying to be as controled as possible while as I ran as fast as I could.

After a while I forgot I was wearing a head light as I focused on the path, my form and breathing. Then on the last lap, with about a minute to go, I tripped and stumbled on the leading edge of the concrete path behind the club rooms, I had misjudged the shadow cast by the paths edge. I almost fell but managing to stay up right stumbling around loosing my rhythm which I never quite regained for the remainder of the run. When I finished the 20 minute's I thought of doing the test again the next day, but then thought, just as in a competitive run or while training you just don't know what may happen and coping with it not allowing it to have power over you is so important. So the test is what it is.

In the end I ran and stumbled :-} 3.91km in the 20 min, a 400m inprovement, my average HR fell from 164 to 159 and my average km pace fell to 5.07' from 5.21'

Hehe...ohhhmyyyy it was tough getting my run on this morning. Most of my posts are about the joys of my long runs and races, and a healthy helping of imagination. One could (falsly) surmise that all my runs are met with eager anticipation and satisfaction. You shoulda seen me this morning. Actually, it started last night...."what?...I have a 2 HOUR run in the morning?", "bu bu but..I work tomorrow", "bu bu but its moooonday" "...bu bu but I'll have to get up at #$%! 4:30am...and still likely be late for work!", "I hate my coach". Lips pooched out I went to bed early, whining.

Then the alarm went off. I thought briefly about ignoring it. I thought, "I could go after work.. ugh...it'll be hot...the kids won't like mommy being gone all day and all eve..." So, I reluctantly got out of bed. Feet stiff and sore and legs tired, "Maybe I'm fatigued and just shouldn't run today".  Debating a headlamp and grabbing 2 water bottles (I don't want to carry) I head out the door. I bring my headphones thinking, "I will def need some motivational tunes". I drop the headlamp on the porch, "I don't care if I can't see, It's too heavy..I don't want to put it on, (snort)". I trot off, "I hate carrying 2 water bottles...why coach?" I get about a mile in and start debating turning around, "I really do think I'm too tired to run"...."Okay...okay...you KNOW you always feel better after 30 min...just give it 30 min, turn your music on".

A light rain starts.  I love running in the rain.  Cloud to cloud lightening and the city lights reflecting off the clouds makes seeing the dirt road a little easier... since I made the intelligent decision not to wear a headlamp at 4:45 in the morning. 30 minutes in, I'm feeling better. "Ok, this isn't so bad...except with both hands occupied with bottles I have nothing to wipe the rain/sweat away from my eyes...hmph....water bottles.  Then I hear the whippoorwhills. I turn my music off, it now seems annoying and distracting. Here come the 6 pack of dogs that always tear after me...they stay up at the house, the rain seems to have depeleted their motivation to eat me.  Wow, it's already been an hour...time to turn around.  

The light rain suddenly turns to loud thunder and flash flooding. Fortunately, only 1 low water bridge that had already been crossed. I completely forget the water bottles, the fatigue, the irritability and I'm running through a warm, intense downpour. Water to my ankles in spots and splish splashing away! No need to drink from my water bottles, the rain running so fast down my face, I simply open mouth and drink. No worries about trying to wipe rain/sweat away....wouldn't do any good! Before I know it, I am done....and feeling good ;)

Yesturday I again completed the mile test which is completed as part of Phase 1, Week 12 and I shaved 43 seconds from my initial test completed before I began the Strategic Running Foundation as outlined in TCI.

I ran my initial mile test 11 weeks ago in 7.57 (rounded down to 7.55 for the speed zone calculations) with me running 7.14 this time that I will round up to 7.15 so I can adjust my speed zones accordingly.

My average HR for the test fell 10 BPM from 169 to 159 and my maximum HR fell form 174 BPM to 166 BPM. Taking advice from Rich I did not look at my watch until approaching the 1 mile point so I don't know how long it took to reach my maximum HR but my suspision is it took longer to reach.

I ran the test on a gravel track around an oval that has 2 full size soccer pitches marked on it which measures 650 metre's around. I completed my initial test on the oval itself but we have had heavy rain over the past few days and the oval was soaked and holding a great deal of water. The oval itself is reasonably flat with a slight up hill on one side and the track around it mirror's this but with a slightly increased up hill on the same side. The track is also rutted from the rain with the ruts following the track camber and this surprisingly helped my concentration. Part of me would like to run the test again on a flat running track to see how much improvement I would get running on a proper running track, but this test compared apples for apples.

For this run I used my B2R trail shoes and they felt fantastic during the 20 warm up, 5 X 20' sprints and the test itself. During the 1 mile test I tried not to concentrate on the end but each step and keeping correct form, it felf fast, fast for me that is, Charlie I can't imagin a 4.37 mile as you did the other day - amazing - and I was very happy with the result. I was happy for 3 reasons, firstly I did improve my time, phew, secondly my form felt good, feeling tight and consistant and thirdly this is the 2nd consecutive run where I have used my B2R's having no great calf stiffness afterwards.

As this is the first time I have completed speed work as part of my training with any consistency or plan, I can't really put this into any context, I don't really know how good or otherwise this is. I do know however, how much I am enjoying the speed work within the Strategic Running Foundation and how the plans structure, personal tailoring and varyation has me always wanting to complete the next days training.

Thank you Eric for your fantastic plan, all the work you put into assisting all of us to reach our Cool Impossible it's greatly appreciated. And to everyone who is apart of this wonderful place Thank You for the help and inspiration, I feel that my own Cool Impossible is now a little closer.

It’s 3:10am. 24 hours ago I was chasing the moon up the steep GA mountains. It seems a bit surreal...until I doze off and somewhere between consciousness and deep sleep I start dreaming. I see my feet in my headlamp and about 6ft of rocky, rooty, wet trail in front of me. I’m on the Notorious “Dragon Spine” of the Cruel Jewel course. I’m flying down the mountain, leaping over tree limbs, scrambling over downed trees and trying to skip over slick rocks. My heart rate climbing, I slip...and jerk wide awake. Dammit! I reposition and it happens over and over again. That’s what I get for trying to sleep cramped up in the back of the Jeep as we make our way home. No longer in the jeep, now in a hotel room with a comfortable bed I can’t sleep, I’m wide awake.

Rewind to 2pm Friday May 16th. Driving from the cabin to the start it begins to rain hard, then hail….hard.  I look at Todd and say, “Next come the locusts”.  He looks at me a few minutes later as we slow down to see the road with hail hammering the jeep, and says, “Is that a boil on your skin?”. Hoping the hail is not an omen of things to come we continue to the start. Fortunately as we arrived things let up. Here at the start, all of the runners trickling in, getting race packets. Todd and Ethan playing catch. Thunderstorms had passed and the skies were opening up. It was chilly, in the upper 50s. I felt good, ready.  Here's the course profile....

Last minute instructions from the race director and at 4pm we were sent on our way. We descended the gravel path onto paved road. Down for about a mile then up toward the trail head. Trying to find my comfortable climbing pace...and of course counting the females ahead of me..1,2,3 with 4,5,6 right behind me. A fairly good size lead pack of men breaking away. Remember Lori, “swift...smart...strong”, that is how you are to run today. “smart” being the emphasis early on. We hit the trail and I refocused on MY effort, keeping myself in check and not working too hard on the climbs. We climbed gradually but steady and I mostly ran, only downshifting if effort felt more than moderate. We then gradually descended back into the Deep Gap Aid station at mi 8.5. I stayed relaxed on the downhill and let the trail come to me. It felt great to descend for longer periods than I’m used to in Oklahoma. “I love this” I thought. I left deep gap and started a gradual 2.5 mile climb. This was almost entirely runnable for me. Trees rustling and the trail was fairly smooth and mildly technical. We descended again for a couple miles into Weaver Creek aid station at mi 13ish. I had decided to go with gels and water during day and switch to sport drink at night. I was trying to take in 200-300cal/hr.  By the time I got to Weaver Creek, I was a little nauseated. I drank some cola, filled my pack with water and was off. Up next was a 3.5 mi climb. I alternated running/fast hiking this one. I was right behind the 3rd female, Jennifer and about 5 minutes behind first female Jaclyn and second female Alicia. I was climbing well. I was finally getting into a groove where I was focused on my own effort and getting comfortable. I passed Jennifer on this climb. As we were cresting the top I joined up with another runner and we climbed together, chatting some. It was nice to have company for this stretch. We crested the top and hit the next descent taking us into Stanley Creek aid station at mi 19ish. I felt good cruising down and passed a couple of guys. I was really pleased at how good I felt at mi 19. I knew it was early, but I also knew I was managing my effort well. I was keeping my effort moderate, trying to take advantage of daylight and move faster on easier trail, but not taxing myself. I knew this was the “easy” part of the course and I indeed needed to keep my effort in check and conserve for the notorious “dragon’s spine”...a 15 is mile section of “shitty trail” along the highest elevation ridges of the course.

At mi 19, I refilled my pack and re-arranged my gels so I would have easy access for what I would need the next stretch.  The next 4 miles would be dirt/mostly paved road. I joined forces with Vince. That pavement running took it’s toll on my IT bands, feet, hips. Everything was aching quite a bit. I knew I was well hydrated, so I took some ibuprofen which was miraculous. I had set my alarm to beep every 20 min to remind me to take in a gel...or at least try.  My stomach is very tricky on races. I completely lose my appetite and can only tolerate sport drink or gels and water. I hate gels, but I can keep them down...it’s getting  them down that sucks! I had hoped I would be able to tolerate a peanut butter blend, Pocket Fuel, which I love on training runs, but I just knew it was not going to stay down so I stuck with the ole gels. The aid stations were stocked with all kinds of goodies, including homemade treats from the volunteers. Up to that point I was getting about 250-300 cal/hr and about 20oz water per hour. My new found friend and I chatted as we ran the road. Talk of family, why we run, and our histories. My “food alarm” would beep and I would try to act all excited..”oooh guess what time it is Vince?!”, “It’s gel time, yay!”

We were both surprised to find ourselves knocking out pretty easy 8:30-9 min miles on the rolling road, but they were painful and we were both longing to get back on trail to ease those aches/pains. At around mi 24 we got back on single track trail as the sun was starting to go down. I pulled out my headlamp and got to work climbing the next little section. I was getting excited to see Ethan and Todd as well. I pulled ahead of Vince briefly, and then it happened. I finally bit it. Tripped over a root and dove shoulder first into the dirt/leaves. Vince caught up as I made my way back to my feet. No damage done, just got dirty. We descended into the Old Dial Road aid station at mi 25. I was still feeling great in general.

It was so good to see Todd and Ethan. It had been just under 5 hrs since I last saw them at the start. Ethan grabbed me and gave me a huge hug. He immediately asked what I needed and dug and couple things out for me while todd filled my water pack and stashed more gels. He promptly said, "go mom, those girls are just ahead!" And I was off.  I was about 15 min behind the first female.  I had planned to switch from gels to sport drink at this point, but, since I was “tolerating” the gels, I was hesitant to change fueling sources. Also, I would have to carry enough sport drink to last me up to 3 hours,  and unless I put it in my hydration pack that would've been cumbersome at best. I'm also not great with mixing it up. I typically try to stick with what's working as long as possible.

I left Old Dial Road knowing I had 3 steep ups ahead and I was getting closer to the meat of the race. I shifted between running and hiking depending on the grade up. I was swelling some and nausea was becoming more than an intermittent problem. I was now only able to get 2 gels per hour and water. I took a nausea pill and climbed.  I was solo for most of this section, passing a few runners. I was pleased with how my legs felt in general. My quads and calves still strong. I was really focused on going down as quickly as possible, staying relaxed, but feeling like i was moving "swiftly and keenly".

Here Ethan is looking for mom....I came in to Wilscott Gap at 31 mi about 10 minutes off the first and second girls Jaclyn and Alicia. Word was they looked like they were pushing eachother hard and were alternating back and forth. I was hopeful that would take it’s toll and they would have to slow down. Ethan, getting even more excited, hurried me out of the aid station. The aid station volunteers were amazing! Lots of kind words and encouragement. Todd was awesome and quick to fill my pack and get me on my way. No time to linger...although so tempting!

The next section of trail would be more technical with and immediate mile and half climb which was fairly steep, followed by shorter, but still steep ups and downs. My hands on my quads climbing, pushing them down with each step on some sections I thought of how I saw Anna Frost climb, pushing her hands into her quads and thought, “strong”. There were some grades that had me whimper they were so steep and it was difficult, but fortunately they didn’t last long, and I just kept picturing Anna and thinking, “strong”. I chuckled a bit too, thinking, well...at least Im not at 11,000ft doing this (that will be later this summer).

I came into Skeenah Gap aid station mi 35, 10 min behind the first female and right on top of the second female which at this point I think was Jaclyn. I tried to be quick about getting out and the aid station volunteers and my crew were awesome! I was in and out of this aid station fast.

This would be the start of the Duncan Ridge Trail,  aka "Dragon's Spine", aka "really shitty trail", aka the DRT. I think "really shitty trail" is the best descriptor, but for names sake, I'll politely refer to it as the DRT. I'm pretty sure before it's all said and done, the DRT will have claimed the lives of 3 toenails and will have blessed me with the worst case of poison oak ever. This is also where I swear I saw pythons. Lots of them. They looked a lot like medium sized tree roots and limbs, but they were pythons on this shitty trail/rainforest known as the DRT. Within a mile or so of the aid station I caught and passed Jaclyn. We exchanged well wishes as I passed her going downhill. It was short lived as she passed me on the next climb. She asked who was behind me. I told her I didn't know, but was thinking, "I don't care who's behind me, it's who's in front of me that I'm after!". She climbed quickly ahead of me and was out of sight before long.

Then it happened. I got lost. The trail was marked well with maroon tape with Grey reflective stripes tied to trees. The problem was that the maroon was difficult for me to see at best and the Grey was not really reflective. I had studied the map well, but at an Intersecting trail I missed the flag to veer left and I went straight. Straight down, down, down. Probably 1/4 mi before I realized I had not seen a flag in way too long. Shit. I turned around and hiked up that steep mother. Another runner, one of the 100 milers had made the same mistake. She was from Brazil. I explained our error. She was sure I was wrong. I tried to assure her she too was headed the wrong direction. She relented and followed me back up. I was relieved she did, as we found the flags again.

Continuing down that trail would've made for a really bad day. I told myself to pay better attention and and we were off again. Well hell, the next section of trail was really grown with grass and debris and I'll be danged if I didn't veer off again. This time it only took a few minutes to right my wrong, but now with 2 mistakes made in quick succession, and having tacked on about 20 minutes, I got nervous. I was frustrated realizing the lead girls were now likely out of reach. Still, I pressed on a little slower making sure I was spotting flags. I would rather move a little slower and finish than get lost and end up with a DNF and a search party.  The downhills were more technical, wet and slick in spots. ..no longer running freely down and several times stopping to climb over giant downed trees.

I came into mi 48.5 White Oak aid station a little deflated. I didn't ask how far ahead they were. I knew it was too far. Ethan was asleep and Todd loaded me down with what I would need for the next haul. Next aid station would be Wolf Creek at mi 53. Here's where I made my final mistake. My garmin was not accurate on distance travelled, so I was guesstimating at this point based on what I did know about what mi the the aid stations were at, what the course was like in between and how many miles. I knew the next aid station was about 4 miles away, at the end of a long descent. I thought the next aid station was a full aid and crew station (ie..lights, people, vehicles). As I was descending, at what I thought was only about 3 miles, there was a water stop...a table with water and gatoraid.  I thought that was odd since the next full aid station should only be another mile ahead. I was going downhill at the point and moving fast so I kept going. Another 1/2 mi  past and no crew/and sid station. I was also now climbing. I knew I shouldve seen the aid station and crew by now and I knew I was supposed to see them BEFORE I started climbing again. With my 2 previous mishaps and my brain a little foggy,  I started to convince myself I had gotten turned around and was somehow going backward on the course. So... yep...I did it. I turned around. I ran back down, I don't know for how long. I stopped. I realized I didn't know where I was. Was I really going the right direction? Still nighttime and unable to use the dawn as my directional guide and the moon now behind the trees enough I couldn't see it either. I resigned myself to backtrack to the the aid station and right myself. Thank God about that time I saw a runners headlamp. "Which way is Vogel?" "That way" he pointed the direction from which I had come. Well shit! I said, you mean that water stop was Wolf Creek? "Yep". I told of my ignorant assed folly and I was grateful I did not continue another 4 miles back to White Oak. I was aggravated at myself. I just knew wolf Creek was a  full aid/crew station. Oh well, no sense in getting my panties in a wad.  I remembered the Race Director's quote on the race website, "poor decisions make for better stories" and chuckled.

I took off up the final climb and descent into Vogel State Park. Followed the flags to an arch of blue Christmas tree lights. No people through.  Hmm. Where the $@#! Is the timing mat? Where the #$@! Is the actual finish...The timing dude? I walked halfway around the building  and finally relented to going in. I flung the door open and said, "where the $#@! Is the finish line?" They all looked up up from their plates and beverages and said "here!". "Well hell, give me some food then!" I was so glad to be done! I finally got to meet the first  and second girls. Jaclyn Greenhill from GA came in first and Alicia Hudelson came in second, just 2 minutes before me. Those 2 were right on each other the whole way. I can’t imagine how intense that was to race together the whole way!  I didn't realize how close I had come though, which made me feel fantastic. These are 2 very tough girls with a lot of rugged climbing races under their belts. We had a great time at the finish, congratulating each other and other runners as they came in. Huge hugs from Ethan and Todd. I could never have done this without them both. Todd, my rock, Ethan, my encourager/motivator.

This was a huge finish for me. Prior to this race I was questioning my ability to race the 50 and 100 mi distances in the mountains. Last year I was only able to survive my 50 and 100 milers. Struggling just to finish. This race taught me that I can climb and descend...fairly well. That I can “race” a full 56 miles and do more than survive. I CAN finish feeling strong. That even though I don’t live near mountains, my training is good and is preparing me to be able to do it. A lot of questions in my head were answered. There will be lots of unknowns this summer, but a few less now. It may have been a Cruel Jewel, but a jewel of a race nonetheless, and a treasure that taught me a lot about myself and others. These mountains are amazing. Beautiful, rugged, packed with history….and pythons ;)

Thank you so much DUMASS events for putting this one on! Your volunteers were all amazing and wonderful. Their energy and kindness penetrated deep in those mountains and in our hearts.  

Left to right...Alicia Hudelson (2nd), Jaclyn Greenhill (1st,) Me(3rd)...feeling the pain a bit!

I had heard him coming before I saw him.  Huffing and puffing, rhythmically out of breath and out of sight, but nearing me as he ran to the top of the ridge.  It was hard to tell what kind of runner he was, as his breathing provided no clue. The trail was so steep that his slow speed presented his silhouette like a rapid sunrise against the ridge line.  First his head, ear buds included, then his shirtless, Bruce Lee looking upper body, giving way to his lower body.  

Today was the first day where temperatures hit 70 degrees, so I was fully expecting to see him in shorts, but no. This mountain man was running in full length Carhartt trousers, and he was moving.

I gestured "peace", he gestured "hang loose", and we were both off in opposite directions.  As I finished my loop, so to was Mark, as we passed one another again - "peace, hang loose".

Seeing Mark in his Carhartt's got me thinking how sometimes we get so caught up in "being a runner" and that camouflages what pure running is all about.  Here was a guy out killing it, running and training for the pure sake of doing what he needed to do.  It reminds me of Silvino, one of the Tarahumara runners we ran with in the Copper Canyon.  Silvino marched to his own drum, always in back, wearing his jeans while all the other indians were in their native loin cloth skirts.

Who is Mark?  Mark is a mountaineer.  Mountaineers are some of the best runners you have never heard of.  In fact, back in 2012, super stud, Killian Jornet came to Jackson to run the Grand Teton, breaking the Fastest Known Time record.  One week later, a local climbing guide laced them up and broke Killian's record.

Mark, I am sure will be back at it tomorrow, doing loops and ascents all over the Snow King trails in prep for his next adventure.  And maybe one day I might just see him in shorts, but then again, maybe I should try Carhartts.

Folks, Meet Mark Newcomb

Wow it was nice to sweat today.  Got in the first 'dry' trail run of the year and boy did it feel great.  My early Spring strength running really paid off as I put in 2,000 feet of climbing in 6.5 miles.  I really was curious to see how I would feel on this climbs and felt in mid-summer form, which is really exciting and motivating now that the trails are melting out.

I still will not be able to hit Teton National Park until late June, but the trails around town and home our epic in their own right and will get me ready for the "big stuff" come Summer.

The Mountain. For a runner, there is nothing more freeing than running up a mountain, cascading down alpine meadows, jumping over rocks, and anticipating the unknown that awaits around the next switchback.  The pinnacle of so many challenges, the mountain is where determination and nerve combine to produce achievement. - EO 

Yesterday was one of my planned races before my current goal of a half-marathon this year. This particular 10k race is in my hometown and draws about 5000 people every year so it's equal parts race and festivities. 

As the course is rather flat and I've now spent 4 months working on running form and transitioning to minimalist shoes, I was hoping to be able to get close to my personal best from 4 years ago (which was the last time I did some serious running). 

During the race I felt strong, in control and light on my feet. It felt surprisingly well even though I was pacing myself to end up close to my PB. In the end I slowed down a little bit and ended up at a time that was 15 s from my previous best time. Since I'm currently only at week 4 in the foundation program, I'm looking forward to crushing this time later this year :)

That’s it.  Swift, strong, smart. My mantra for running Cruel Jewel next week. If you’ve kept up any with my endless blogging, you will learn that I am quite creative and visual. I am also Cherokee, and as I grow older I am finding great joy in learning more about my heritage and our native ancestors. I spent much of my early childhood on reservations and near tribal lands due to my father’s work with different tribes. I love the stories and storytelling as it suits my vivid imagination. This imagination really seems to fire up on long trail runs. It’s a time for me to meditate, pray, soul search, connect, understand. It is also a time to get a little bored ;0)...That is when I get mischievous and start dreaming up stories of animals, intermingling them with legends and stories from my Cherokee ancestors and other tribes. Cherokee elders have encouraged me to “make the stories your own” It is good to change and adapt them and retell, putting a personal spin on them. It is in this context I hope to lead you into where I am going.

As any normal human being attempting things that seem impossible, confidence can be hard to come by. The “voices of reason” step in...the Walters if you will (again...see previous blogs to meet ole Walter). Walter says things like, “you are 41 years old with 3 children, husband, and full time job...don’t you think it’s selfish to do all this running?”, “You will never be fast….and why do you want to be fast anyway?”, “Do you really think you are inspiring others or just hoping to justify what you want to do?”. “Skyrunning?...really?...you live in Oklahoma...you will die.” Walter isn’t a bad guy, he’s not right or wrong, he challenges me...and I am learning to let him be there and be ok with that.  I think ultimately he’s trying to protect me so I still have affection for him.

Now, Cruel Jewel is on the very near horizon. The kick off to the US Skyrunning Series (I am registered for all 5 events). In keeping with my Native American roots, and to help me focus on what I want to look like/be like/feel like as a runner. And considering my recent dive into animal storytelling, I decided to think about animals, what animal embodies the qualities I want to embody as I run. I thought about how animals run. The deer...fast and graceful...but for brief courses. The rabbit...fast, smart, a little tricky, but again not the endurance runner. The horse? Definitely can go the distance, but more of a walk. The wolf? I had never really thought about a wolf on the run or as a runner, but the first word that came to mind was “swift”. Although not the fastest dude in nature, swift….efficient...does fit. What about endurance? I did a little research...they can travel up to 30-50 miles a day and cruise at about 5mph when traveling. Yup 5mph is a run and not too far off how fast a human might be able to move over that distance. What else comes to mind? Strong...the wolf embodies strength, strength of body and form, strength of mind also. And they are smart. So I tried it out..went for a run and visualized how a wolf runs...swift, strong, smart. And there’s my mantra and my visualization.

Just ran a 4:32 mile. My training has been going great and nearly all of my injuries and pains have gone away. I have been able to step up my training dramatically and have dropped time very quickly. I started about a year ago with this program, and now I have noticed how much better my form is. Thanks for this great program!

Let me introduce you to Mr. Tommy Hafey, here in Australia he's a living legend for many reasons. 50 years ago he was a professional footballer, playing Australian Rules Football (AFL) in an era when the rules, though basically the same as today, could be manipulated far more easily given the grounds were not flooded with TV camera's. There also was no video review, only one field umpire (now we have 3) and the shear thuggery that was tolerated by players, officials and the fans was immeasurably more than it is today. In fact it was in some ways a totally different game, and a totally different world from what it is today. Tommy Hafey was a hard man but a fair man by the standards of the day, however today he just would'nt be tollerated, none of his peers would be. Tommy retired as a player in 1965 having played 190 games for the Richmond Tigers over 11 years.

He was then apointed head coach at Richmond, before going on to coach the Geelong and Sydney AFL clubs, coaching some 570 games winning his fare share of premierships (Championships) along the way. Upon leaving "the game" he was then in the media for many years, on Television and writting for the papers. But what he's probably most famous for today is his fitness and health regieme.

Tommy Hafey is 83, yes 83 years old and his fitness regieme puts most people's to shame, including me and it has not altered since 1965 when he retired as a player, in fact it's increased as he got older. Every morning before sun rise no matter the weather he runs 10 to 12 Km's, ocean swims 4 Km's then completes 500 push-ups, 300 sit-ups and 200 leg raises. But wait there's more, for the past 37 years he's eaten an Asian based diet, he's been tea total since his playing days, never having alcohol and he's also been processed sugar free all that time. He gave up sugar all those years ago to prove to his daughter that it was just mind over matter and if you wanted do truely do something in life, put your mind to it, anything and it's achievable.

His nickname since his playing days is "Tee Shirt Tommy" because no matter what the weather, summer, winter, rain hail or shine he only ever seems to wear, you guessed it, a tee shirt.

Now Tommy lectures on health and fitness visiting schools talking to the benifits of regular exercise, healthy living, discipline and that we all must have a passion in life, not any passion, not someone elses passion, our passion. How it is our responcibility to go out into the world and find our own passion and pursue it with our whole being. He is truely one of the most insparational, down to earth people anyone could meet or listen to. 

Unfortunately Tommy is in hospital at present, in early March he had a brain tumor removed and has had to be re-admitted to hospital due to complications arising from the surgery. Everyone here will be praying for him, sending him good vibes for a speedy recovery because none of us is quite ready for a world without tee shirt Tommy.

Tommy Hafey, in my opinion, in bodies The Cool Impossible and what Eric and his philosophies teach us all about health, fitness, true self, over coming fear and humanity. There are far too few Tommy Hafey's in this world, people like him are lit from within and without fear or favor they shine a beacon of light on our own lifes path, helping us find our way . 

A speedy recovery Tommy.

Yesterday called for the last, longest training run before the first US Skyrunning Series Ultra event - Cruel Jewel 50 (really 56 miles...ahem!).  I’ve been racing now coming up on 3 years and these are the runs that seem to be a defining point for me in my training. I know it’s coming and I really look forward to the challenge I always know it will be. This run, this one long run each season, before the races start, is always the most memorable because it gets me feeling the way I know I’m going to feel mid-late stages of a race, tired, legs a little zapped, passing clouds of uncertainty followed by periods of ease and flow, then more passing clouds, the miles seeming longer and longer. These runs are far more mental than physical and just a slight taste of what will happen in race scenario. That’s what they are meant to be...I think.

I sweet talked a runner from Arkansas, James to join me for 20 of the 30 miles. The weather was shaping up to be potentially severe, but we were pretty sure we had a good window of opportunity before the really severe stuff came in. We got lucky. Tornadoes did end up making their way through the north and east of us later that evening and night causing extensive damage and loss of life in Quawpaw, Ok and North Little Rock, Ar.

We started at 7am. Temps in the 60s with 80% humidity and passing clouds. Did I mention humidity at 80%? We took off at an easy pace on the trails of Hobbs State Park. I decided to go by effort, only looking at HR to make sure I wasn’t letting myself get too high. It was nice to have company and share in the beauty around us.

The dogwoods were in full bloom and looked like patches of snow between the greenery. Off the trail the ground cover was turning vibrant kelly green...lots of poison oak cropping up as well...my nemesis! We cruised down the first holler, sun peeping through trees and a nice breeze. We power hiked parts of steeper but relatively short climbs to stay comfortable. alternating sun/clouds above with few sprinkles here and there. As the sun rose, so did the temps and humidity. We hit around mi 7 or 8 and stopped to refill our water and I grabbed a few more gels and pocket fuel. I decided to try a solid...which usually goes over miserably. I ate about half of a payday. Some friends turned me on to these at an ultra event I crewed at. We took off down “the Bunny Ears”. These are 2 3 mi loops that have a slow shallow grade down to the lake and back up.  The first bunny ear went fine, by the second one though the heat was starting to zap us and our conversation pretty much fizzled out! The payday seemed to go down without issue and I was remaining aware of and drinking to thirst. I have found if I make sure to drink when I start to get a little thirsty I do very well on the hydration end. I alternated gels and pocket fuel (a almond butter/fruit blend) which kept me fueled well. We popped off the second bunny ear and topped off our water. I gobbled the other half of the payday and we were off...The next 5 miles to the visitor center would be cruising along.

We had a little brief 10 min shower and things steamed up. The second bunny ear slow steady climb up from the lake took a bit of a toll on me, but I backed off and was perking back up making our way to mi 18-19. We hit the visitor center, and stopped briefly to decide the next segment. James agreed to show me a new to me 8 mi trail called Pigeon’s Roost. He got me to the trail head and as we rolled in, a group of young guys asked if we would take their picture. I wasn’t paying attention when we hit the visitor center and didn’t realize until we got to Pigeon Roost that I was almost out of water. Not good when you have 10 miles to go. I agreed to take their picture in exchange for some water to get me through the next segment. They agreed it was a fair trade.

James and I parted ways and I headed solo down Pigeon Roost. This would be an 8 mile loop that takes you again down and around Beaver Lake. Within the first mile the skies became very dark and the winds picked up. I cruised down and started climbing back up and could feel the fatigue in my legs settle in. They were very heavy and my breathing a little harder trying to climb. I remembered to back off and keep it easy...well as easy as I can let myself keep it ;). The climbs were a shallow grade and very runnable so I did, just very very slowly up. Started to get a nice little downpour and some thunder. About 4 miles in to the loop I hit some low points, just tired feeling legs. I did my systems checks…”are you keeping this easy?”, “when was the last time you had calories?” “water?” Is there something you can do to help yourself feel better?  At this point I was just watching my feet, not looking ahead or scanning the trail…..then blammo! I saw it just as I was about to step on it...a timber rattler coiled up right in the middle of the trail.

Shit! I hurdled that sucker and just barely avoided stepping flat on him! I flew down the trail past hiim seeing every root and stick as a snake for about 50 meters. I must’ve been a sight, flailing, cursing, leaping, squeeling at roots and sticks! It gave me such a start! Just as soon as I settled down just slightly a HUGE thunderclap and lightening strike no more than a ¼ mi away. Sent me zooming and cursing again! Now I was mad and terrified! I wanted airlifted off the f’ing trail right then and there! I knew I was 3-4 miles from the trail head and there was no other idiot out there in the weather. After a small fit, I thought, “alright, alright….just do what you need to do.. pay attention to the trial, to the sky and be smart and get moving’. At that very moment I took a sip from my pack and heard that all to familiar sound of air and water. Out of water. Oh well. I knew I was 3-4 mi from the visitor center so this would just be an annoyance and not anything to worry much about. The little storm that cropped up in minutes dissolved just as quickly as it fired up and the sun was again peeking through clouds. The trail brought me down to the lake again.

I decided this might be a good time to get my legs in the water, wash off any poison oak oil and just recollect my nerves a bit. The water was beautifully clear and cold. I walked in shoes and all up to my knees and washed my face and rubbed my legs. “there, much better”, I thought. Back up the trail and hit the trail head and pavement. The trail on Pigeon Roost seemed particulary rocky so the ¼ mile of paved road felt like a nice little break. My feet and knees were getting a little achy. Hit the visitor center at 27-28 miles and filled up on water. Ate some pocket fuel and headed back down the trail for a short out and back to make 30 miles. I was thinking on those last couple miles, “I’m ready to be done, but honestly feel like I could go another 10-20-or more miles if I needed to, this is how I want to feel at 30 miles in a race”. At that point I knew I had nailed today’s run. I ran it just like I was supposed to. I was so pleased….and so freakin’ ready for some real food!

I am tucked in between Scott Jurek and Chris McDougall.  The pace is not so hard that we can’t talk, but there was no conversing.  As the trail weaved, curved, and turned back on itself, I tried to get a peak and glance at the Tarahumara Indian ultrarunners positioned single file ahead of Scott and I.  For so long, they were mythical runners to me, and now I was running with them, they were now real.

Deep in the steep cuts of Mexico’s Copper Canyon, we were trekking 30 miles, traveling from one town, up and over the canyon’s rim to another town.  Old school transportation, Tarahumara style. 

We ultrarunners, from the USA, did not speak their language, nor did they, ours.  There was no need for verbal communication, our running was our communication, a common language that both American and Tarahumara runner understood.  We had a common bond.  Our initial athletic focus on the trail, of our footsteps, our pace, our breathing, soon turned to smiles.  We knew them, as they knew us – running brings this out in people.

Run forward a few years and I am running the Lantau trails outside of Hong Kong.  My life’s passion of running and coaching has brought me to Mainland China to develop my own line of running shoes.  Up until this point, China was a mythical place to me, and here I was, using my running to experience it for real. 

In the heart of Shenzhen, China, I woke early one morning to get my run in before heading to the factory for a long day of shoe development.  Running the paths of the golf course at our host hotel, I came upon a man doing Tai Chi and that universal athlete language ‘spoke’ again.  I ran past him with a smile, he returned the smile without losing his focus.

The following day, I made a point to run at the same time and location in hopes to see my ‘friend’ again and sure enough, there he was, same time and location.  But this day we exchanged smiles and a high five as I ran past him.  Day three, I stopped to watch his meticulous practice and he motioned me over, showing me a few movements – my first Tai Chi lesson.  It was that same athletic sign language that I had experienced deep in the Copper Canyon.  No words were spoken.  We didn’t need words because we both understood dedication, practice, effort, discipline, and the rewards that come from it.

Speed up a week and I was running the very steep hills of the Lantau trail as I came across a group of local runners speeding towards me.  As we approached each other, we all began to smile and one runner glanced down at my freshly made shoes and pointed.  We all stopped, as the pointing of his finger instigated some talk from his group.  Words I did not understand, but the body language I did.  Before I realized it, I blurted out, “Born To Run?”

Every one of the runners, in unison, replied, “ah Born To Run” in perfect English, shaking their heads, smiling with complete understanding.  Nothing more needed to be said.  I was part of them, and they part of me.

We are global runners who speak the same language.  As a running and performance guru, I have spent a lifetime learning and thinking about running and about the limitless possibilities of the human body and mind—from my astounding, philosophy-affirming run adventure with the Tarahumara runners of Mexico, to my current work with elite and developing athletes—and I am ready to share this knowledge.   This is a chance for me to instruct and inspire as the coach I am. For you, it is a chance to make amazing new strides.

The Cool Impossible is intended for runners and aspiring runners of all levels of ability and experience, from those contemplating their first hopeful steps, to seasoned marathoners and ultrarunners seeking to discover new challenges and unlock the full range of their capabilities.   I will lay out in the book my own experiences and development as a coach, and explain in a clear, step-by-step format how to build that perfect running body, covering the topics of running form, strength development, cardiovascular training, and nutrition, drawing along the way on my experiences with the Tarahumara, as chronicled in Christopher McDougall’s best-selling 2009 book Born to Run.

Finally, and most important, The Cool Impossible is more than just running, it is a challenge to live your dreams everyday.  As we begin to live our dreams, we begin to understand why Tai Chi masters spend entire lifetimes perfecting their art of movement. It is the sheer poetry of creating something and working on it until it is truly and absolutely right that ultimately keeps you coming back - coming back each morning at the same time, at the same location.

In these pages, I will lay out my concept of The Cool Impossible: a goal pursued by dreaming beyond fear and living beyond limits.  You will learn specific protocols of visualization and imagery to help you develop your own Cool Impossible.  

It is this last element that will make The Cool Impossible a book to dip back into again and again for inspiration and reinforcement. Like a favorite running companion, The Cool Impossible will be there with you, stride for stride, helping you go farther than you ever thought you could.

This book is also the first step towards my cool impossible, unifying the World with running. Thank you for being part of my dream and I look forward to the day we meet on your favorite trail, running with big smiles.

Being a newbie! I just have a few que
as I am training to run a marathon in Oct and doing the BBMC an 18mile trail over the Brecon Beacons in Wales UK.
1) I find it very hard to run short (3-4 miles) distances, i.e I don't relax until mile 4-5, I still enjoy getting out, so will it still help in my training
2) do we have our own built in speed that we run at? As I have tried Fartlek training but it made me worse !! So now don't do this anymore. So the question is really is speed training important?
I am sure I have lots more to ask but one thing at a time :-)

I am struggling a bit

 with speedwork. I have developed a little “track anxiety”. Speedwork is fun when it’s easy and you hit the times you want. That hasn’t happened for me lately, I have struggled a bit on the track and now I have some sheer anxiety at the thought of speedwork. I finally broke down and reached out to coach. He encouraged me to visualize my track workout for the next day. I couldn’t do it. I got still, I saw myself warming up, doing the speedups and getting ready to do the first 800meter speed interval. I tried to visualize the pace range on my watch and staying in that pace zone...then I would see myself falling under pace by the end of the first lap (as I have done before), feel the anxiety, tensing up, getting slower, chest getting tight, heart racing, pushing harder, feeling like I’m dying…..and then lose the visual and start thinking about other things. I couldn’t get through the full 800 in my head. I could only visualize what I had experienced, trying to change it, making the past experience different.

Further instruction from coach, “focus on running by TIME, not pace. This is very Important”. I had never done this. I had always just looked at pace, making sure I was staying in a certain pace range, ie 6:10-6:20 for 800m.  The anxiety went higher...I thought, “Shit, I’ve never done that before, I don’t think I can. I don’t know how to judge 800 meters in time...how do I make sure I hit 800m at 3:09? How do I know if I’m going too fast or not fast enough?” I didn’t trust that I could do it. I was now fairly terrified. And fairly mad that I was scared to run 800m..”of all the things to be afraid of...how stupid is that?!”. Then, coach says, “Flip your watch so you only see time..a stopwatch”.  We talked more about how to visualize this. Coach also said, “AND, where we need to go with this and for the races and future is to help you realize: To be your best, you must be willing to fail…”

Oh and then the damn dam broke! I got mad.  Out of nowhere I blurted out in the mirror in front of me “If I am harder on myself than anyone else then no one else can hurt me or blind side me. How do I let go of that?!”

I shocked even myself, Wha? Huh? Where the hell did that come from?! “ok Lori, you’ve done lost your mind”. My head swirling and coach still sending me emails..”ok I want you to see the 400 meter split time I gave you for the 800s, use the stop watch function and use this split to help you FEEL this effort…..’ He might as well have been speaking Japanese at this point...I was gone.

It became clear, I don’t want to do the speedwork, I don’t want to try to guage distance/time, I might fail. I want to be safe. But it wasn’t about speedwork, it was about life. If I am keeping myself safe, then I won’t get hurt. I am locking myself in this cage I’ve created so no one can hurt me...except me. It translates in my running…”If I am harder on myself than anyone else on the track, in my workouts…in life”  A wise friend told me, “The more you are willing to hurt, the more free you become!  Run free...live free!”.  To get what you really want...to reach for your cool impossible, you have to be willing to fail.

So back to visualization.  I tried again a few more times that evening to visualize the track workout. I could see the warmup as I had done many many times, I could see starting the first 800m and myself and how I felt and then I  could feel it getting difficult and I tried to change the outcome that I knew in my head was coming. I couldn’t CHANGE what I had experienced previously (missing the target time/pace) into what I WANTED to see.  Then I woke up trying to figure out why I couldn’t CHANGE my visualization...and it hit. Lori, you CANT change the past. Quit trying to take your past experience on the track, visualizing it,  trying to change it. Let go and CREATE what you want to see. And blammo! I did it!  I could visualize it! The whole damn thing! The times on my watch, the effort I wanted, all of it! When I let go of the past I could create what I wanted.  And it clicked...in life...let go of the past to create what you want.  Simple. You can’t change the past, converting it into something you want. Not possible, so quit trying Lori. Now, if that’s what it was all about….but nope… there’s more.

So now I get out on the track, still very very nervous, but in a much healthier sort of way. So here we go..20 min warm up...then a 400m at 1:34 to get pace and feel for what the 800 would be like. Then the first 800….I nailed it to the second! I hit the 400 mark right on cue and 800 mark. It was extremely difficult though and my legs were not spunky at all. I knew this is where the second part of the lesson may be coming in to play. On to 800m interval number 2. 200m in I am almost right on cue, but by 400 I was over 1:34. My legs were jello-y and my effort maxed. I could feel my pace fading and at 800 my time was over the goal by several seconds. I was ok though. I didn’t feel angry or frustrated. On to 800m number 3. Started out, by 400m I was over on time. My mantra, “focus” came in. I was focused on relaxed breathing, pushing my legs and my body as hard as I could without blowing up, focusing on making my form as efficient as possible, fast as possible. I was over again by several seconds. the 4th and 5th 800m intervals were similar.To get what you really want...you have to be willing to fail

The difference was that I was at peace throughout. Working to my best effort, best form, best mindset possible. I was willing to fail. After the second 800 interval I knew there was no way I was going to succeed at hitting the goal time, but the difference was, this time I was WILLING to fail. To reach as far and as hard as possible at that 3:09 800 meter target knowing I might...and likely would...fail. But if I didn’t reach like I was going to get it I would never know, So I reached with every 800 like I was going to get it.

Now I wish my thinking and my understanding of what is going on were all neat and in a nutshell and internal, but the reality is it’s not. I got a glimpse yesterday, and I write this to remind myself, so that it does becomes natural and internal. 

A friend sent this in an email the other day and I think it pretty well sums it up....

Free State Trail Half Marathon – Lawrence, KS

Saturday April 19^th I ran the Free State Half for the first time. Keeping pace with every other Trail Nerds event I have been involved with this was a challenging and exciting day. At start time the temperature was about 48 degrees but it was going to warm up quickly. I was not focusing on a specific pace or finish time but I still wanted it to be respectable. Typical to my habits, I arrived early and wandered around a little getting a feel for the day. On my way back to my Jeep I ran into my friend Jeff and we talked until it was time to get our gear and head to the start line. Looking back I am thankful for the distraction while we talked about upcoming races and possibly me pacing part of his 100 miler in November. You can feel the energy from the crowd and the DJ’s music getting everyone pumped up. Ben gives his final instructions and tells us to go!

I settle into a semi-comfortable pace and commit to myself to maintain and keep moving as long as I can. After a bit we enter the woods for approximately twelve miles that remains. I purposely left my GPS home to not be distracted by constantly looking at it so I do what I usually do. At first people are bunched together but slowly after a couple more miles, there is more space. I try to not lose sight of the group in front while not letting the group behind catch me. This works for about half of the race. After I pass through the RWB aid station I get the dry heaves from eating a bug I then refocus on putting one foot in front of the other and not stopping. It never ceases to amaze me how many people in these kinds of events will check to make sure you are okay as they come to pass you. Trust me I know the protocol on being passed and letting people get around me on the trail. Too much practice I guess.

As we get to the beautiful red trail along the lake which is rocky, I get behind a gentleman who like me is working hard and he offers to move aside. I decline and fall in with his strategy of walk/running the rocky/hilly section. When we are coming close to Lands End and another friendly aid station, I eat my Nutella wrap and drink the rest of my water so I can refill it for the final push to the finish. I not only lose sight of the runner I have been pacing off of but now I am getting cramps in both legs. They are not constant but they are sharp when they come so I cautiously continue and try to catch my pacer. Once I see him ahead I return to my spacing strategy while I work through the cramps and attempt to close the gap. I get passed by some of the forty mile participants which I try not to think about too much. I am not competing against them or anyone else out here. I am running because it is time to test myself and learn how to be a better me. Another humbling moment is when we come up a hill and there is a guy standing there cheering people on with a metal from the half marathon around his neck. I am pretty sure he was the winner today. Very cool that he is down here cheering people on. I have passed the photographer twice and I think I hid the pain from his lenses but only time will tell.

Is that music and people I hear? Wait, now we have turned and it is getting further away. There it is again, and this music yoyo continues for a little while until I see another finisher standing in the woods on the side of the trail cheering for us and he says “good job, only one more hill and about 200 yards!” This time the voices and music gets louder and does not fade. I see the other Photographer from Mile90 Photography at the finish line and run in to the finish again masking my cramping legs for the camera. I receive my finisher’s metal and sticker from Coco and thankfully, I am done! It is still a party atmosphere as I hang out for a little bit and attempt to loosen my legs up a bit. I see a friend of mine named Carl who is doing the 100K as he comes in and goes back out again. Now I begin the long journey back to where I parked. Yes I am hurting and not looking forward to the multitude of times that I will need to depress the clutch at traffic lights as I leave town, but I am one step closer to my Cool Impossible of the 50K this fall.         

In a bit of a break from the norm, sort of, I want to post up what is technically, I guess, an old running story. I thought I'd share as it's a chapter from the book I've written about how I went from not-running to running pretty far - I'm virtually ready to publish now, so I guess if anyone is interested in reading the whole thing, then it'll be around soon enough :)

I hope it's ok posting it here as a kind of toe-in-the-water to see if you guys like it. Anyway, here goes:

3

Two Beaches

Lessons #11-15

Sometimes, the most unassuming reasons to try something are also the best.

Preparation is not always a bad thing.

At some point, I’m going to go the wrong way. Suck it up and run.

Clean clothes are overrated.

Being mental might be quite fun.

"Hello Joe, it's me, uh and as you might be able to see, ah, I'm at Saunton. I just got here, ah... because the sky's pretty dark, maybe that you can see, it's just about five in the morning and I've beaten the sun here; the sun's coming up over that way in about two minutes. There's a lot of rain coming from that way that I'm going back to, um, but I wanted to send you the video because I think we can look back on this as the point where me, ah, where I lost it. This is the bit where Ben went round the bend..."

This is from the short mobile-phone video that I sent to my brother from a very windy, cold, Saunton Beach at, as I mention, about five in the morning of 15th July 2012. This was only around two or three months after I'd decided to start running a bit more, but I think that run ended up being a pivotal one in my mental growth as a runner.
Rewind around one week from that early-morning jaunt to Saunton and you find me on what had been my longest (and most prepared-for) run so far – 28km roughly following the nearby coastline from Barnstaple to another local beach at Woolacombe for their annual sandcastle competition. I say 'for' the sandcastle competition, and that's the reason I gave at the time, but I almost don't want to sully the memory of my real intentions by attaching such a just-about-socially-acceptable reasoning to the trip. Pretty simply, I ran there because I thought I might be able to.

Lesson #11
Sometimes, the most unassuming reasons to try something are also the best.

I'd been toying with the idea of pushing my distances up from the now-standard 12-15ish kilometres I'd been happily running. Since I'd been without even mild injury for a while, I'd started to feel more confident in my abilities—maybe even a combination of cocky at having 'beaten' these distances and just bored with feeling like I wasn't trying anything new any more. In spite of this, I was still firmly resisting the title of 'runner' to both myself and other people; I was still just casually running from place to place, as far as I was concerned.
However, the French have an expression that says 'love, a cough, smoke and money can never long be hid'; I'd add 'wanting to run a long way' to that. When a few of my friends had been talking about going to the sandcastle competition which was then in a couple of days' time, I almost didn't think before saying that I'd go and meet them there, on foot. Announcing my plan—so casually, too—unfortunately couldn't be ignored and this was the first time that I had to fit together my own insistence that what I was suggesting was perfectly normal with other people's reactions of disbelief. I also, with hindsight, see them almost looking at me differently as I unintentionally took the stage from being just a friend who casually runs to... something slightly different.
Of course, this initial reaction passed quickly (I seem to remember we were enjoying a few beers at the time) and conversation moved on with my plan back under the radar, until I showed up at one of my friends, Sophie's, house with a bag packed with clean clothes for me to wear after arriving at the competition. Dropping that bag off was probably more significant than I'd realised it was going to be—this would be the first time I'd committed, to myself or to anyone else, that I was going to run at a definite time, with a definite plan. Dropping that bag off meant that turning back on my decision would be a lot harder to do (maybe not exactly insurmountable should I have really wanted to back out, but compare that with the difficulty of just saying to myself "I'm not going out today").
This commitment wasn't the end of my preparation, it turned out. Of course, I had to let my friends know what sort of time I'd be arriving—this meant not only planning out my route and calculating the distance, but then putting some thought into how long it would take me to run that far. Even when I realised I'd have to think about this, before I sat down to hash it out, I started to feel naïvely uneasy at this requirement to start doing things that I'd heard and seen 'proper runners' doing. Even something as simple as figuring out an unfamiliar route seemed restrictive, although looking back, I see I was close to being a bit childish about this desire to under-prepare.
Eventually I brought myself to do it all, though, and found an online running site that would let me plan out a route and then send it to my phone, so I could follow it by GPS. I also bought a small running water bottle, to add to my begrudgingly-growing collection of runner's paraphernalia, and filled it with a free sample of electrolyte drink that I'd received with my FiveFingers (I remember I was only taking the drink to use it up, though—who needed in-run electrolyte refuelling?). With that and some cash in my pocket, I was set. It makes me smile now to think about how that between clean clothes, a sports drink and a few quid, I was the most prepared I'd ever been for a run; it almost makes me think that there's some kind of genuine Zen lesson in that statement somewhere.

Lesson #12
Preparation is not always a bad thing.

I didn't need to start particularly early in the day to get to the competition on time, so I had a nice mid-morning start to the run, which started out covering the same section of cycle path between my home and work, that I’d covered many times before. Although I didn't have any real strategy for the run to speak of, I did try to keep my pace reasonably slow on this first, flat portion—so far, so good. I ate up the first 10km without really even thinking about it. Unfortunately, that's where things started to get a little more interesting.
As I hadn't been used to running with my phone for a GPS before, I was still enjoying the novelty of following my progress as a thin red line on a screen, following the blue of my planned route. Although it probably wasn't healthy for my running to be frequently fiddling with the display and checking my inexorably slow progress across the map, it at least meant that I noticed fairly quickly when the GPS signal got lost—the first moment of what would turn out to be it staying lost for the remainder of the run. On the plus side, I knew the general direction I was supposed to be heading in (the fact that the route could be summed up by 'keep the sea on your left' for most of the later parts helped), but unfortunately there were a fair number of winding country roads to negotiate before I got to the easy part of the directions, which I could at least remember as 'golf course, footpath, coastal path' when I got there.
Not so much worried as exasperated, I carried on in what I assumed to be the right direction, being forced to think less about my running itself and more about which way I was supposed to be turning at each junction. After about twenty minutes of this, I (rather anticlimactically) found the golf course.
It had turned out that the more difficult-to-guess part of the route, the part I was most concerned about, was fairly straightforward; unfortunately, the easy-to-remember next part was also easy-to-get-wrong. I arrived at Saunton Golf Course, which sits nestled inbetween the nearby marshland, fields and dunes from Saunton Beach, and immediately saw footpath signs. Stupidly, I ignored or didn't even notice that the footpath in question was heading west, towards the sea, when I wanted to be heading north, parallel to the beach.
Although I didn't realise my mistake at first, I soon started to think that something was up by the fact this 'footpath' had started to turn into a twisting, sandy track cut through distinctly beachy-looking flora. My error was sealed when I eventually crested a particularly tall bump in the path to emerge from the dunes and find myself on the long, sandy expanse that is Saunton Beach—around 2km south from where I wanted to be!

Lesson #13
At some point, I’m going to go the wrong way. Suck it up and run.

Undeterred, I gathered myself and started running along the beach to where I knew I could rejoin the main road and (hopefully) get back onto the coastal path fairly easily. Fairly sure now that I was behind time to meet my friends, I started to push my pace a little, just hoping that the extra bit of exertion wouldn't have too much of a negative effect on how I was feeling. In fact, I found myself enjoying the feeling of pushing myself on the damp sand's forgiving surface.
From the beach I found my way up onto the main road fairly easily, but the traffic on its several blind corners meant that it was unsafe to follow for too far. Mentally, it was on to the next task—figure out a way up onto the next stretch of coastal path and away from the main road as soon as possible.
Again, what I thought would be the difficult part of the plan ended up being fairly straightforward—from the main road, it was only a short distance to another footpath that led up onto a hilly set of fields overlooking the danger of the cars and linking up with the actual coastal path a way ahead. And, again, the easy part—actually following the fotpath—turned out tough as it ascended into a nightmare of boggy mud, herds of overly-inquisitive cows and finished with sliding down a final muddy slope on my backside after losing my footing on the slick surface. Just to top it off, as soon as I slid to a halt, a perfectly-friendly and well-meaning pair of hikers came around a corner just ahead of me and took great interest in what my FiveFingers were like to run in. I told them what I knew and gave them what was even by then becoming a somewhat-rehearsed short version of my reasons for minimalist running... they seemed genuinely interested and talked about how they were both considering trying it, but I'm not sure whether they would have had the same enthusiasm if they'd have seen my preceding tumble!
From there, though, luckily the run was fairly straightforward. I paused at another beach, adjacent to Woolacombe, to pick up my first ever mid-run scavenging refuel: a chocolate bar and juice to replace my now-empty bottle of electrolyte potion. Pleasantly re-energised by the food and by the rest I took to eat it, I set off at an easy, fresh pace around the final cliff-top point and along another seemingly-endless beach to where the competition was being held. Since then, when I've been out running with a friend of mine, Luke, along beaches, we've contemplated the pros and cons of running along the shoreline like this—on the one hand, the sand feels great, is conducive to great running form and helps build fitness brilliantly; on the other, it's so hard to tell how far you've come or got to go due to the featureless sand. Running the final stretch of beach into Woolacombe almost started to feel like an empty limbo—peaceful, sure, but as there were no points of reference aside from a very-distant town becoming gradually a bit less-very-distant, it was also getting perilously close to being soul-destroying!

When I eventually reached the sandcastle competition, which was being held in the vicinity of the main town part of Woolacombe, I didn't immediately reflect on it being any kind of achievement—I just felt great. I had a few minutes before my friends arrived, which I spent wandering around the town, not feeling particularly hard-done by the run there. My legs still felt fairly fresh, but more pleasingly I didn't feel like my breathing was laboured or my heart was bursting out of my chest—score one for moderate pacing! Although I knew I'd run further than I'd ever run before, the naïve part of me that shucked anything too prepared or complicated was also satisfied that I'd done it with only a little extra preparatory effort to accompany the actual 'putting one foot in front of the other'.
Eventually, my friends arrived, sporting bigger smiles than I'd been expecting (if I'd been expecting anything) and full of congratulations. It took me the rest of our time there, pacing around the sandcastles and eating ferociously hot beach-side prawns, until the thought started to work its way into my head that the reason they were smiling and asking me so many questions about the run there—'how long did it take?', 'don't your feet hurt?'—was that I'd done something more out of the ordinary than I believed. I certainly didn't think I warranted too much praise—I hadn't even run a marathon distance, I'd stopped for fuel along the way, I'd gotten horrendously lost and had had to explain a perfectly-positioned dirty brown smear on the back of my shorts from my muddy slide (as is perfect and unavoidable in this kind of situation, Sophie had forgotten the bag with my clean clothes in).

Lesson #14
Clean clothes are overrated.

In spite of my rationalisations, something had clicked inside me. Well, a few things—I knew I could run further than I'd previously been trying to without too much difficulty and still have enough reserve energy in the tank to tackle problems along the way that might make the going longer or more taxing. My desire for simplicity in my running had been introduced to the idea that just a little bit of preparation could make for a very good, fun run and so maybe planning wasn't that bad. I'd also been given positive reinforcement that going out and running not for the running itself, but for the idea of getting somewhere, could be very rewarding.
I hadn't had a problem with nailing my colours to the mast about doing something a bit unusual and committing to doing it, so what else, I wondered, could I do using running as a tool to get there?

After a couple of days of recovery from the run to Woolacombe on the Sunday, I was itching to get out again. I ran a couple of shorter-length runs around the park near my house, but I kept coming back to thinking about the enjoyment I'd had from my excursion around the coast (this was shortly before I pretty much stopped running anything less than 5km at a time, as I started to feel like it was a bit pointless to even go out the door otherwise). It came to Saturday afternoon before I had the next idea for a run, which was to watch the sun rise on the beach. Since it was summer, the sun would be rising pretty much at the earliest it was going to through the year (around 5am), meaning that I would rarely have to rise as early to do it. Almost because of this extra aspect, I must have figured I couldn't make the plan any more difficult – so I decided there was no time like the present and settled on going out that night.
I traced out the route from the previous Sunday's run and estimated that it would take me around an hour and a half to get to the beach at Saunton again, followed by a different route home that would come back partly along the main road (which I hoped would be a lot quieter at that time of the morning) and through another nearby village for a route that was around 25km in total.
With literally a few hours to go before I would have to set off, this time constraint happily forced me into minimal preparation. I decided on taking just a handheld water bottle, torch, a phone and some cash, knowing that I'd be able to pick up some food from a small newsagents along the way back if I desperately needed to.
That evening, I had a 'social engagement' already planned with a few friends and although I didn't exactly party hard (it also being the first time I had to explain this sobriety using running as a reason, getting some fairly quizzical looks from my friends), I didn't get to bed until about 11.30pm. Once there, the act of setting my phone's alarm for 3am was the first thing to actually give me pause over what I was plotting to do; the screen helpfully pointing out that this alarm would go off in around three and a half hours' time. Thanks for that.
A little doubt started to creep in at this point, not about whether I could do such an early morning jaunt, but over whether there was any point. Afterwards, when people asked me why I went, the answer of 'to watch the sun rise' seemed to make less sense, almost raising more questions; luckily at 11.30pm on that Saturday, this answer was enough to renew my faith and get me off to sleep.
It felt like approximately five seconds had gone by before my alarm started going off. Although I'm normally a snooze-button addict, I've fortunately always been able to at least remember I'm supposed to be getting out of bed for something especially important. Thanks to this, I was up and tackling my 'preparation pile' (easily mistaken for a pile of clothes slung on my bedroom floor) within a few minutes and blearily made my way to the kitchen. Here, I was greeted by the first stark reminder that I was doing something a little strange – my flatmate, Ben, getting in from the same night out that I'd joined him on a few short hours before.
In the classic manner of two very sleepy or very drunk men, we exchanged a few mumbled greetings and 'good luck's before he dove into bed and I dove into a cup of strong, black, sugary coffee. I stupored my way through a couple of slices of toast and, pretty much on autopilot, found myself standing on my front step a few minutes later.
There, I took a few moments to mentally centre myself. The coffee and food was already starting to wake me up a bit and it did feel good to be breathing in some cold fresh air. The dark briskness of the air was only stopped from being completely tranquil by the residual noises of people making their way home through the town after various nights out, but if anything this helped me to visualise a personal deception: I wasn't going for a run at 3.30 in the morning, it was simply an evening run after a day at work. I took a final heavy breath to watch it hang in the air and then I set off.
The simple act of running soon warmed me up against the chill of the night and I was thankfully distracted further from the cold by the local 'social wildlife'. I've never been much of a clubber anyway, but it was an experience to be running, stone cold sober, through groups of the local clubs' clientèle, who ranged from stumbling around drunk, to fumbling around with each other in the dark shadows that lined the path, apparently far from normal people's eyes. I chuckled to myself that I was only (reluctantly) privy to these trysts because that night, I wasn't a 'normal' person.
Soon, I was running along the cycle path out of town – my first time running in near-complete darkness – and I'd never felt so alone. My own steady breathing was the only sound now and my eyes kept darting to every movement by the side of the path. Oddly, I wasn't particularly afraid of having to deal with possible unfriendly acquaintances along the way, but the darkness gave my more primal instincts a firmer grip on the reins, keeping me overly alert to any moving shadows.
Constantly running into the small pool of torchlight ahead of me was a novel experience in itself – because I couldn't see much more than a few feet in front of me, it helped me to very much focus in the present. The effect was almost meditative and I found it very easy to fall into a rhythmic loop of placing one foot after the other, not worrying about how far I'd come, or had left to go. I was able to find good form and run not only fairly quickly, but fairly easily too – it almost became as if I was a passenger on this journey, just 'sitting tight' until I got there.
The first few kilometres were over before I'd really begun to think about it and because of the time of night, I'd been virtually undisturbed, other than by a couple of people making their way home who were equal parts merry and terrified when I came padding out of the darkness.
I came to the spot where my GPS had given up the ghost the week before and allowed myself a smile as I checked my watch to get an idea of my pace (this was in my pre-Garmin days). I was still on track to get to Saunton for 5am. Good. I knew the route, knew it was flat and I was feeling very strong. I pressed on and started to really relax into my running. Because the sun was starting its final approach towards rising, I was gradually able to see around me more easily and take in more of the scenery as it started to get a little lighter. As the pre-dawn light began to cast fields and buildings in slate and navy, I started to remember why I enjoyed running in the first place; I enjoy seeing things I wouldn't have seen otherwise, or seeing them in a different or unusual way.
I got to the golf course in what seemed like no time at all and I was soon making my way beyond it along the foot-rollercoaster that was the undulating sandy path through the dunes. Soon, it was light enough for me to ditch the torch and as I did, 'Natural-runner Ben' came out to play – dispensing with even this basic bit of technology made me feel a burst of freedom and I started quickening my pace.
At that point, it all came together. Both physically and mentally, everything clicked: my breathing was comfortable; my pace, form and cadence all felt great and inside, I knew at this point that I'd made it—the sun was still a way from rising and I wasn't far from the beach. All of this together filled me with a great sense of joy and I was soon starting to laugh as I ran, almost sprinting up each mini-ascent and virtually bounding down each downhill.
I reached the larger rise that bordered the beach and it was there that I became aware of my own exuberance, which spilled over when I hit record to send Joe the video message. Sure, the run back home was beautiful, passing lone surfers on their way to catch an early wave, passing a couple out training a nervous pair of young huskies to pull a wheeled sled and enjoying the misty beauty of the early morning; it was that moment of watching the sun rise at Saunton, though, that was by far the most important to me. Right then, I realised that I'd achieved something that I thought was on the limits of my physical ability, dreamt up by something towards the edge of my mental attitude. If I could do something like this after only a few weeks of making an effort with running, what other more incredible things might I be able to do?

Lesson #15
Being mental might be quite fun.

Well, there's another day that just drifted away. They slip past almost unnoticed, one by one by one. And they're busy days, full of work and family and everything else that matters. Until you suddenly sit up and think, hey, it's nearly the end of April, that's another month lost by stealth, another month without running. And you start to realize what it means, that yet another season is just going to pass you by. It's a cold feeling in the pit of your gut, to face up to the fact that all those races you had hoped to enter for the first time in, what, 3 years? will be run without you. Oh, just checked, 4 years. This will be my 4th year without a single race from the spring/summer program. But it's not even the racing, or the CI of a sub 6 minute mile before Lori - it's the horrible thought that I haven't run since early February. What? How? Why? And I've worked on the phlegmatic and I've worked on the philosophical and I've worked on the optimistic and I've done all the XXXXing boring exercises that the physio reckoned would sort out this sore knee in 8 weeks.... and you start to lose hope when there's just no traction, that, actually, it's not improving, that it's not making a difference, that, if anything, it's getting worse. Going down stairs, going up stairs, any kind of knee bend, but especially, yikes, especially, the dreaded pistol squat, gives the distinct impression that someone is trying to lever off my kneecap with a crowbar. Knee tracking problems, apparently. Weak quad muscles, they reckon. But giving it a name and a diagnosis and a whole heap of corrective strengthening exercises hasn't changed a damn thing. And so the sense of something slipping away increases. Oh, I plug away. I keep doing the fitball core stuff, if only because a six pack at my age is no small achievement. And I stand dutifully on the slant board, though more out of habit that any sense that it will be of any immediate use. But it's so frustrating, because it seemed so close to realizing the dream of just being able to run and run and run...

Sorry, very depressing post. Needed to get it off my chest.

HAPPY EASTER TO ALL, I HOPE IT WAS A PEACEFUL AND HAPPY TIME FOR EVERYONE.

On Thursday my family and I flew to Adelaide, spending Easter with my sister's and their families and as always the first thing I packed was my running gear. The weather in Adelaide was fantastic, warm and sunny, so it was great to be outside let alone be outside and running on such beautiful days.

On the Thursday before Easter and Good Friday I completed day's 4 and 5 of Phase 1, Week 6 on grass at a park not far from the beach 5 or 6 km from my sisters place. While there on Thursday doing my warm up and sprint work I had 3 people come over and ask about these strange Blue shoes I was wearing. Two of the enquires were general and when I started to briefly explain how they worked, where they could be purchased and about TCI, their eye's glazed over. However the third person put the name of the book and the web address of TCI in her phone. Then on Friday we had dinner with the whole family and my other sister who has had great trouble with the feet and legs was very interested in the foot strength excercises in TCI, so you never know I may have spread the word a little further.

On Sunday, mid morning, I did my long run for the week, trying to keep my HR in HRZ.2 as per the Startegic Running Foundation, completing 20.6 km in 2:01.23 with my average HR for the run being 142 BPM. Looking at the data afrerwards my HR spiked for the first km or so then settled down into HRZ.2b for most of the run. Though it did creap up into the lower end of HRZ.3 every now and then through out most of the run. My zone 2, based on my tests, is 131 to 140 BPM and zone 3 is 141 to145 BPM.

My B2R's were left in the bag for this run and I ran in my New Balance 1080-V2's so as to continue the slow transition to full time running in my B2R Trail shoes.

I ran a mostly flat course that followed a bike path to the beach then along the beach front for about 5 km. There was a couple of small hills evenly spread through out the run but nothing that was too taxing. It was warm being about 25 deg C, there was almost no wind and when I ran along side the ocean it was like glass. Once I left the beach I ran along the perimeter of a golf course before hitting quiet suburban streets for much of the run. For the final part of the run I ran along the footpath of a main Rd but given it was Easter Sunday it too was relatively quiet.

The pleasing thing about the run was that though my legs were tired before I started, I had no trouble at all running. I listened to my ipod but remained aware, concentrating on form and cadence with my legs seemingly not deteriorating to any great extent over the run like they once would have.

Then after my CD, protein shake and shower my legs felt a little more fatigued than they did before the run but nothing like they have in the past. I have in the past, many times, given a similar work load to the past few weeks, had my hamstrings cramp up once I had cooled down, showered and/or sat down. I use to dread sitting down and I would be on edge knowing I was going to cramp, and if I did cramp I'd almost be in tears with the pain. But thanks to Eric and TCI I feel those days are well and truely behind me now.