I've been bitten by the trail running bug. A few months ago, I ran a mountain trail race here in Oaxaca, and it was the most fun I've had racing since high school cross country. I just heard about a new wrinkle in trail running: The Trail Relay!
The Ragnar Trail Cascades is an overnight running relay at the Loup Loup Ski Bowl in the state of Washington. Here's the rap from the official race website:
"Introducing Ragnar Trail Cascades-WA, an overnight trail running relay
created for those with an adventurous spirit. Nestled in the heart of
the Methow Valley among evergreen trees and endless views, Ragnar Trail
Cascades will ignite your inner wild with a challenging course, vibrant
sunrise/sunsets, and billions of stars. Crisp mountain air will fill
your lungs as you conquer three different loops of trail running which
feature awe-inspiring vistas of the Cascade Mountains. Ragnar Village
offers both solitude and a party vibe as teams camp in and around the
nearby Loup Loup Ski Area, make s'mores, star gaze, listen to live
music, and cuddle up around the campfire with other Ragnarians."
Complete course info is also at the site, and it's enticing to read, beckoning a certain stripe of runner (well a certain type of relay team) to adventure. If I could do this run, I would! As I say, I've been bitten by the trail running bug, and also I'm a relay guy at heart, having churned out a steady stream of sub-two minute legs of the two-mile relay as an undergraduate at UMass some eons ago.
Wednesday, March 4, 2015
Sunday, January 25, 2015
More Beach Intervals: Stealth and Slant Six on the Sand
Why am I the Grumpy Runner? Because at 57, I can no longer run like the wind at will. Why am I the luckiest man alive? Because at 57, I can still almost run like the wind any old time (being 57 is much better that not being 57, that is to say, no longer above the ground.) But I digress--let's talk about running at an angle in soft sand and messing up your ankles.
I find myself again at my favorite place for intervals/speed training, the beach town of San Agustinillo, Oaxaca. With it's gorgeous stretch of flat packed sand facing the Pacific, it's the perfect locale to buzz out barefoot intervals. Busting down the beach at a brisk clip just after dawn is my idea of a real good time. We pulled in yesterday after the six-hour winding mountain road drive at dusk. I trotted half a mile down the beach and back to shake off the effects of the curvy roads by sheer cliffs, happily contemplating the next morning's workout.
But there's a problem. Gotta hit the beach at 7 a.m., unless you are a glutton for heat running. This morning I knock down a tasty cup of decaf and head to the beach only to find the tide is in. This means slanted running. The beach dumps right to the surf at a pitched angle and the sand is soft. No fun. If I run fast there, I mess up my ankles and arches big time.
Strapping on my shoes, I hit the road for a few out-and-back miles up the coastal highway through the next town of Mazunte (think dread-locked Eurohippies) and beyond. Looking for a bit of a workout, I pick up the pace and hit a negative split on the return.
I'm resigned to running some mid-day intervals in the heat once the tide is out and the beach is flat and fast, but by mid-morning it's looking pretty good, the tide is almost out, and I stride up and down for a couple 600 meter repeats. Enough for now, insists my stomach, which I recently loaded with pancakes.
The day turns out hot, but not crazy hot. The sea is refreshing and I go on to do a few more repeats, at mid-day, 3 @ 150 medium fast and 2 @ 600 medium. Good enough. I'm here for a week. I often overdo it on the first day and my legs are sore as heck all week. So this year, I'll try to mete out just punishment enough each day so I can keep rolling.
Stealth & Speed
On our second full day in San Agustinillo, the tide is in come morning and I don't want to run on the soft, slanted beach. So I forget about it for a couple hours and have fun with the kids during a morning dip in the Pacific. By 9:30 or so, the tide has edged out sufficiently to open up a piece of beach I can run on, but we are about to sit down at Mexico Lindo, a great palapa restaurant, for breakfast on the beach.
Lucky for me, we discover that we forgot our snorkle gear, so I head back to the cabana and somehow manage to fit in a warmup run and a 600 meter trot at a brisk pace before returning for breakfast.
Over the course of the day, amongst family activities, I sneak in another snappy 600, then later 2 @ 300 and 4 @ 200, all pretty quick. I'm not thinking about it as any sort of complete workout, but I realize by the end of the day that my legs are a bit sore so I kinda got it right. I'm also pleased that I stuck to my "no sprinting" rule, I don't want to mess myself up hitting top gear without a proper warm up (or this early in the week.)
If This is Tuesday...
OK I'm running a middle distance workout today, 10:30 a.m. already plenty hot on the beach, but the tide is headed out and there is a bit of breeze. I buzz out 4 @ 650 meters at what feels like a mile race pace. Remember that feeling you'd get in a high school mile? "I'm only a lap and a half in and I'm this tired?!" That's what I'm looking for, and I found it on the second repeat. Sure, I'm racing mostly 10K these days and thinking of tackling a half marathon, but I'm a miler at heart. I keep the rest between repeats at a bit over 2 minutes, and that's what makes it hurt.
Wednesday, I'm not running beach intervals today. Three days in a row is plenty for now! See you on the sand tomorrow.
OK, Thursday.
I did not get on the beach until after 3:00 p.m. today. It's hot and I'm more inclined to a siesta in the hammock that intervals on the beach, but I'm a trooper so here we go. Did I mention I'm on vacation here in San Agustinillo? There are amazing fresh fish fillets grilled in garlic, sublime fish tacos, boutique Italian spots run by actual Italians. Good food all around, and too much of it.
Eating too much is no excuse, so I soldier onto the beach and knock out a respectable 4 @ 650 with maybe 2.5 minutes between repeats. Not quite as fast as Tuesday, but darn close. I finish off the workout with 3 @ 150 - 180, working up to 80 - 85% speed. Still not sprinting, but not too far away either. It's exhilarating to work up to that relaxed yet intense full on middle-distance race cadence, as life-affirming an experience as any!
An hour later I try a couple 80 meter strides a bit slower to see what my legs think about today's workout. They think: Enough for now, dude!
Fried Egg
It's Friday and I'm a bit the fried egg. I've been sticking workouts and (elements of workouts) between family activities as the beach is still not good for fast running at 7:00 a.m. Running in the hottest part of the day is a bit of a challenge, even on the crest of the ocean with it's cooling effect. So today I grind out my 4 @ 650 meters with about 2:30 between in pretty good order at 3:00 p.m. It's work and my legs are a bit sore.
No further complaints! I've done five interval workouts since Sunday, courting the edge of oxygen debt a goodly number of times. Legs are pleasantly sore without being wrecked. Last year here, by the end of the week my legs were pretty ruined. I did a bigger volume of repeats then, but why overtax the system? I have three years of increasing my overall distance/volume in my legs, so a week of medium-hard effort intervals is appropriate.
I finish off today's workout with another fast burst, 100 meters at 85 - 90% effort. It's wonderful to open up my heart, mind and body to running like that, sort of collecting on the ecstatic promise of what is possible for a human being to do.
Headed Home
Before stepping in the car for the six hour drive back to Oaxaca city over the mountains, I step on the beach at 7:30. The sand is just firm enough today to buzz one more 650, fastest of the week. I guess you can call it intervals if you run just one!
I find myself again at my favorite place for intervals/speed training, the beach town of San Agustinillo, Oaxaca. With it's gorgeous stretch of flat packed sand facing the Pacific, it's the perfect locale to buzz out barefoot intervals. Busting down the beach at a brisk clip just after dawn is my idea of a real good time. We pulled in yesterday after the six-hour winding mountain road drive at dusk. I trotted half a mile down the beach and back to shake off the effects of the curvy roads by sheer cliffs, happily contemplating the next morning's workout.
But there's a problem. Gotta hit the beach at 7 a.m., unless you are a glutton for heat running. This morning I knock down a tasty cup of decaf and head to the beach only to find the tide is in. This means slanted running. The beach dumps right to the surf at a pitched angle and the sand is soft. No fun. If I run fast there, I mess up my ankles and arches big time.
Strapping on my shoes, I hit the road for a few out-and-back miles up the coastal highway through the next town of Mazunte (think dread-locked Eurohippies) and beyond. Looking for a bit of a workout, I pick up the pace and hit a negative split on the return.
I'm resigned to running some mid-day intervals in the heat once the tide is out and the beach is flat and fast, but by mid-morning it's looking pretty good, the tide is almost out, and I stride up and down for a couple 600 meter repeats. Enough for now, insists my stomach, which I recently loaded with pancakes.
The day turns out hot, but not crazy hot. The sea is refreshing and I go on to do a few more repeats, at mid-day, 3 @ 150 medium fast and 2 @ 600 medium. Good enough. I'm here for a week. I often overdo it on the first day and my legs are sore as heck all week. So this year, I'll try to mete out just punishment enough each day so I can keep rolling.
Stealth & Speed
On our second full day in San Agustinillo, the tide is in come morning and I don't want to run on the soft, slanted beach. So I forget about it for a couple hours and have fun with the kids during a morning dip in the Pacific. By 9:30 or so, the tide has edged out sufficiently to open up a piece of beach I can run on, but we are about to sit down at Mexico Lindo, a great palapa restaurant, for breakfast on the beach.
Lucky for me, we discover that we forgot our snorkle gear, so I head back to the cabana and somehow manage to fit in a warmup run and a 600 meter trot at a brisk pace before returning for breakfast.
Over the course of the day, amongst family activities, I sneak in another snappy 600, then later 2 @ 300 and 4 @ 200, all pretty quick. I'm not thinking about it as any sort of complete workout, but I realize by the end of the day that my legs are a bit sore so I kinda got it right. I'm also pleased that I stuck to my "no sprinting" rule, I don't want to mess myself up hitting top gear without a proper warm up (or this early in the week.)
If This is Tuesday...
OK I'm running a middle distance workout today, 10:30 a.m. already plenty hot on the beach, but the tide is headed out and there is a bit of breeze. I buzz out 4 @ 650 meters at what feels like a mile race pace. Remember that feeling you'd get in a high school mile? "I'm only a lap and a half in and I'm this tired?!" That's what I'm looking for, and I found it on the second repeat. Sure, I'm racing mostly 10K these days and thinking of tackling a half marathon, but I'm a miler at heart. I keep the rest between repeats at a bit over 2 minutes, and that's what makes it hurt.
Wednesday, I'm not running beach intervals today. Three days in a row is plenty for now! See you on the sand tomorrow.
OK, Thursday.
I did not get on the beach until after 3:00 p.m. today. It's hot and I'm more inclined to a siesta in the hammock that intervals on the beach, but I'm a trooper so here we go. Did I mention I'm on vacation here in San Agustinillo? There are amazing fresh fish fillets grilled in garlic, sublime fish tacos, boutique Italian spots run by actual Italians. Good food all around, and too much of it.
Eating too much is no excuse, so I soldier onto the beach and knock out a respectable 4 @ 650 with maybe 2.5 minutes between repeats. Not quite as fast as Tuesday, but darn close. I finish off the workout with 3 @ 150 - 180, working up to 80 - 85% speed. Still not sprinting, but not too far away either. It's exhilarating to work up to that relaxed yet intense full on middle-distance race cadence, as life-affirming an experience as any!
An hour later I try a couple 80 meter strides a bit slower to see what my legs think about today's workout. They think: Enough for now, dude!
Fried Egg
It's Friday and I'm a bit the fried egg. I've been sticking workouts and (elements of workouts) between family activities as the beach is still not good for fast running at 7:00 a.m. Running in the hottest part of the day is a bit of a challenge, even on the crest of the ocean with it's cooling effect. So today I grind out my 4 @ 650 meters with about 2:30 between in pretty good order at 3:00 p.m. It's work and my legs are a bit sore.
No further complaints! I've done five interval workouts since Sunday, courting the edge of oxygen debt a goodly number of times. Legs are pleasantly sore without being wrecked. Last year here, by the end of the week my legs were pretty ruined. I did a bigger volume of repeats then, but why overtax the system? I have three years of increasing my overall distance/volume in my legs, so a week of medium-hard effort intervals is appropriate.
I finish off today's workout with another fast burst, 100 meters at 85 - 90% effort. It's wonderful to open up my heart, mind and body to running like that, sort of collecting on the ecstatic promise of what is possible for a human being to do.
Headed Home
Before stepping in the car for the six hour drive back to Oaxaca city over the mountains, I step on the beach at 7:30. The sand is just firm enough today to buzz one more 650, fastest of the week. I guess you can call it intervals if you run just one!
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
Cappadocia Ultra Trail: A Great Challenge for Ultra Runners
Hey Ultra Runners, here's a real challenge for those of you who love an Ultra in a beautiful, rugged and exotic setting. The Cappadocia Ultra Trail takes place in Urgup, Turkey, in the hills and valleys of Cappadocia, a UNESCO world heritage site, on October 24 and 25, 2015. Participants can choose between 110, 62 or 33 kilometer events.
Visit the race web site at the above link for registration information and course maps.
Thursday, December 11, 2014
La Navidad in Oaxaca - Let's Run
You're going to Oaxaca this Christmas! Or you are already here. Welcome to this highland jewel, this cultural mecca in southern Mexico.
Now get your running shoes on and let's go. I provide guided running tours of the best running routes in Oaxaca for a very reasonable fee. Dates are open up to Dec. 20.
Zip me an email to book a tour.
Steve Lafler
a.k.a. The Grumpy Runner
Now get your running shoes on and let's go. I provide guided running tours of the best running routes in Oaxaca for a very reasonable fee. Dates are open up to Dec. 20.
Zip me an email to book a tour.
Steve Lafler
a.k.a. The Grumpy Runner
Sunday, December 7, 2014
Oaxaca Race Review - Yo Creo 5K & 10K
Today marked the first edition of the Yo Creo (I Believe) 5K and 10K race in the city of Oaxaca. The event is held in Llano Park in the north part of central Oaxaca. Plenty of local races run from Llano on Sunday mornings, a well established tradition in this highland cultural mecca that supports a thriving running scene.
Just as in the U.S., the first edition of any race is approached with caution. Running a smooth road race benefits from an experienced runners perspective. I give the Yo Creo team pretty good marks for a first race, with one major caveat. This Grumpy Runner prefers an actual PORTA-POTTY to a sneaky surreptitious pee on a large bush in a side street.
Some 350 or so folks line up to run, with both the 5K and 10K races starting together. A bit of a small field for a Llano Park Sunday run. They coulda done more promotion, and offered prize money. The race is a fundraiser for a local kids charity, so I reckon they did what they could to drive a crowd to the event and raise some pesos.
The last race I ran at Llano was a mere three weeks back on the same 5K loop course, but there was prize money that day. The field was at least twice as large and attracted a compliment of the local Kenyans, who live cheaply and train at Mexico's altitude.
This course I enjoy. It's a loop heading south into Oaxaca's "Centro" on Juarez, then it cuts across Calle Independencia and heads north on Pino Suarez. It heads into Oaxaca's Reforma neighborhood before turning back to the Centro to complete each 5K loop. Realize, at Oaxaca's 5000 ft. altitude, it can be a challenge. The beauty of the course over 10K (my distance today) is that mile 2 and mile 5 are gradual uphills. It gets your attention, especially on loop 2.
Good cheer prevails. The medium size crowd is pretty mellow, filing to the start area gradually. The starting line is framed by costumed clowns, Batman, Spiderman and (Broomhilda?!) all on stilts. We're off pretty clean, albeit a few minutes late, and I tell myself, wait. As in, do not go too fast. I have a decent head of steam up, feeling good, but want to save my energy for loop two and the last mile of the race. I'm in decent shape, if not killer shape. Let's be cautious.
The incline into Reforma starts with the second mile. It's a bit of work but I chant Wait, wait, wait in rhythm with my breathing. Feeling good. I'm having a good race. Not a great race, but solid.
We turn back towards the Centro at mile 3, okay it's mildly downhill and this is good. I still chant: Wait.
This kid passes me. Slim fellow, 18 or 20 years old, with a beautiful smooth stride. I'm not racing (yet), keeping my own council, I let him go by. Looking at him, I wonder why the super tight biker shorts and equally form fitting technical T-Shirt? The super smooth runner in his fasionista sports gear. Fine.
He slows from his surge. I catch up. Running next to me, he forces me into the street which has traffic on it. Cars way too close. I drop back and give him a meter. Now I'm on his inside as he slows again and he forces me over towards the parked cars. The aggressive stuff continues for a quarter mile. I'm keeping my own pace, maintaining a rhythm as best I can, but Fashion Lad is messing with me. Why, who knows. I pull in front of the guy and cut him off, how do you like it pal?
I make a point of keeping my distance. We approach the 5K mark (one loop), Fashion Lad puts on a wee little kick, I think "He's running the 5K" He gets a gap on me, and claps for himself and waves his hands in the air and cheers a bit. Why not?
Yes I am surprised that Fashion Lad DOES NOT stop at the finish line, continuing on for loop 2 and the 10K. The guy gaps me now and I'm happy. He can't mess with me when he's 40 meters up on me. Meanwhile, I keep my mantra rolling WAIT - WAIT - WAIT in rhythm with my breathing. I pass the 5K, I'm chomping at the bit, I want to ramp it up, but stick to my plan. Wait for the 5th mile uphill. It's the crucible of this particular 10K course.
Just as the 5th mile starts, I'm catching this guy a bit younger than I (I'm mid/late 50s) who has a big frame. He's wheezing like a draft horse. We go to cross the Calle Ninos Heroes, a.k.a. the Pan American Highway, which separates the Centro from the Reforma neighborhoods. The cops fail to stop a bus in time, and Draft Horse guy has to stop for a second -- I whiz by him as the bus goes on, while I'm yelling and gesturing at another car to stop. Hey race director! Straighten this crap out. The grumpy runner does not want to die running your race. Thanks.
I press into Reforma uphill, keeping a jaunty rhythm. My chant changes to RE-LAX-A-TION repeated every four strides. Focus on form and leg turnover. Draft Horse guy is wheezing like you never heard, issues fluids from his nose and mouth as he goes. He tucks in behind me and sticks like glue. I'm not racing yet, not trying to drop him. Simply going medium hard up the damn hill, albeit as relaxed as I can muster. Not like the blind pain type of race rhythm where you know you can keep rolling somehow, more like "This ain't easy but I can do it".
Draft Horse guy and I encourage each other. Talk back and forth a bit. Honestly we help each other take measure of that long incline. It's not that steep, just hella long. We turn at the top and Draft Horse lets go. I admire the hell out of that guy. He's a brick house and he's taking it to the wall over 10K. I'm impressed.
I catch up with a couple younger dudes at the turnaround, late 20s early 30s guys. I pass one and he surges back. A mile to go and these two guys start racing. I stick to them for a bit but decide to go with my relaxation chant and focus on leg turnover. They're up 20 meters on me in no time but they stay there.
My chant is working out pretty good. At half a mile to go, I'm rolling with it, in touch with my body. I'm up on the two younger dudes, notching it up and easing by them. OK BOYS, NOW I'M RACING! It's fun as hell but I'm starting to redline, to hurt pretty good, when I notice, Fashion Lad is right here 30 meters in front of me! Oh, I own you now, Fashion Lad.
He got up on me over mile 4 up the hill, maybe 60 - 70 meters. I give him props, working that hill so well with that smooth stride. But now we have 300 meters to go, and he's only 20 meters up on me. Seriously redlining, but I know I have a burst in me.
WAIT! The call returns. Don't sprint yet. I'm reeling this kid in, with about 80-90 meters to run it's GO TIME. I open it up and rush past Fashion Boy as he let's out an odd questioning grunt, sort of "how dare you!" - I'd like to say I hit a smooth, rhythmical sprint, but it's more a clumsy open middle distance stride, a grab at the finish line, limbs flailing in a herky-jerky rhythm. It feels great and I am pretty darn whipped at the finish.
I hit 50:01, slow as hell. Oh well, I'm the age I am, it's at mile high altitude and the course (I've measured it) is 160 meters too long. I'll take it!
Steve Lafler, The Grumpy Runner.
----
Book a Oaxaca Running Tour with the Grumpy Runner.
Email Steve at this link.
Just as in the U.S., the first edition of any race is approached with caution. Running a smooth road race benefits from an experienced runners perspective. I give the Yo Creo team pretty good marks for a first race, with one major caveat. This Grumpy Runner prefers an actual PORTA-POTTY to a sneaky surreptitious pee on a large bush in a side street.
Some 350 or so folks line up to run, with both the 5K and 10K races starting together. A bit of a small field for a Llano Park Sunday run. They coulda done more promotion, and offered prize money. The race is a fundraiser for a local kids charity, so I reckon they did what they could to drive a crowd to the event and raise some pesos.
The Grumpy Runner trying to relax and focus.
The last race I ran at Llano was a mere three weeks back on the same 5K loop course, but there was prize money that day. The field was at least twice as large and attracted a compliment of the local Kenyans, who live cheaply and train at Mexico's altitude.
This course I enjoy. It's a loop heading south into Oaxaca's "Centro" on Juarez, then it cuts across Calle Independencia and heads north on Pino Suarez. It heads into Oaxaca's Reforma neighborhood before turning back to the Centro to complete each 5K loop. Realize, at Oaxaca's 5000 ft. altitude, it can be a challenge. The beauty of the course over 10K (my distance today) is that mile 2 and mile 5 are gradual uphills. It gets your attention, especially on loop 2.
Good cheer prevails. The medium size crowd is pretty mellow, filing to the start area gradually. The starting line is framed by costumed clowns, Batman, Spiderman and (Broomhilda?!) all on stilts. We're off pretty clean, albeit a few minutes late, and I tell myself, wait. As in, do not go too fast. I have a decent head of steam up, feeling good, but want to save my energy for loop two and the last mile of the race. I'm in decent shape, if not killer shape. Let's be cautious.
The Yo Creo 5K & 10K race swag. An over designed technical shirt and finishers medal. Not bad for 150 pesos (about $11.50 U.S). The race was not chip timed.
The incline into Reforma starts with the second mile. It's a bit of work but I chant Wait, wait, wait in rhythm with my breathing. Feeling good. I'm having a good race. Not a great race, but solid.
We turn back towards the Centro at mile 3, okay it's mildly downhill and this is good. I still chant: Wait.
This kid passes me. Slim fellow, 18 or 20 years old, with a beautiful smooth stride. I'm not racing (yet), keeping my own council, I let him go by. Looking at him, I wonder why the super tight biker shorts and equally form fitting technical T-Shirt? The super smooth runner in his fasionista sports gear. Fine.
He slows from his surge. I catch up. Running next to me, he forces me into the street which has traffic on it. Cars way too close. I drop back and give him a meter. Now I'm on his inside as he slows again and he forces me over towards the parked cars. The aggressive stuff continues for a quarter mile. I'm keeping my own pace, maintaining a rhythm as best I can, but Fashion Lad is messing with me. Why, who knows. I pull in front of the guy and cut him off, how do you like it pal?
I make a point of keeping my distance. We approach the 5K mark (one loop), Fashion Lad puts on a wee little kick, I think "He's running the 5K" He gets a gap on me, and claps for himself and waves his hands in the air and cheers a bit. Why not?
Yes I am surprised that Fashion Lad DOES NOT stop at the finish line, continuing on for loop 2 and the 10K. The guy gaps me now and I'm happy. He can't mess with me when he's 40 meters up on me. Meanwhile, I keep my mantra rolling WAIT - WAIT - WAIT in rhythm with my breathing. I pass the 5K, I'm chomping at the bit, I want to ramp it up, but stick to my plan. Wait for the 5th mile uphill. It's the crucible of this particular 10K course.
Just as the 5th mile starts, I'm catching this guy a bit younger than I (I'm mid/late 50s) who has a big frame. He's wheezing like a draft horse. We go to cross the Calle Ninos Heroes, a.k.a. the Pan American Highway, which separates the Centro from the Reforma neighborhoods. The cops fail to stop a bus in time, and Draft Horse guy has to stop for a second -- I whiz by him as the bus goes on, while I'm yelling and gesturing at another car to stop. Hey race director! Straighten this crap out. The grumpy runner does not want to die running your race. Thanks.
I press into Reforma uphill, keeping a jaunty rhythm. My chant changes to RE-LAX-A-TION repeated every four strides. Focus on form and leg turnover. Draft Horse guy is wheezing like you never heard, issues fluids from his nose and mouth as he goes. He tucks in behind me and sticks like glue. I'm not racing yet, not trying to drop him. Simply going medium hard up the damn hill, albeit as relaxed as I can muster. Not like the blind pain type of race rhythm where you know you can keep rolling somehow, more like "This ain't easy but I can do it".
Draft Horse guy and I encourage each other. Talk back and forth a bit. Honestly we help each other take measure of that long incline. It's not that steep, just hella long. We turn at the top and Draft Horse lets go. I admire the hell out of that guy. He's a brick house and he's taking it to the wall over 10K. I'm impressed.
I catch up with a couple younger dudes at the turnaround, late 20s early 30s guys. I pass one and he surges back. A mile to go and these two guys start racing. I stick to them for a bit but decide to go with my relaxation chant and focus on leg turnover. They're up 20 meters on me in no time but they stay there.
My chant is working out pretty good. At half a mile to go, I'm rolling with it, in touch with my body. I'm up on the two younger dudes, notching it up and easing by them. OK BOYS, NOW I'M RACING! It's fun as hell but I'm starting to redline, to hurt pretty good, when I notice, Fashion Lad is right here 30 meters in front of me! Oh, I own you now, Fashion Lad.
He got up on me over mile 4 up the hill, maybe 60 - 70 meters. I give him props, working that hill so well with that smooth stride. But now we have 300 meters to go, and he's only 20 meters up on me. Seriously redlining, but I know I have a burst in me.
WAIT! The call returns. Don't sprint yet. I'm reeling this kid in, with about 80-90 meters to run it's GO TIME. I open it up and rush past Fashion Boy as he let's out an odd questioning grunt, sort of "how dare you!" - I'd like to say I hit a smooth, rhythmical sprint, but it's more a clumsy open middle distance stride, a grab at the finish line, limbs flailing in a herky-jerky rhythm. It feels great and I am pretty darn whipped at the finish.
I hit 50:01, slow as hell. Oh well, I'm the age I am, it's at mile high altitude and the course (I've measured it) is 160 meters too long. I'll take it!
Steve Lafler, The Grumpy Runner.
----
Book a Oaxaca Running Tour with the Grumpy Runner.
Email Steve at this link.
Friday, November 28, 2014
Return of the Son of Speedwork on the Beach
We've sneaked off to San Agustinillo on the Oaxaca coast for an extended weekend. Sneaked I say, as we've developed a habit of coming here for a week in the winter, so this is an extra beach bump in late November. Actually, we got here just in time for Thanksgiving dinner on the beach after the six hour mountain drive from the city of Oaxaca.
I've loved running fast on the beach since I discovered the flat expanses of sandbar on the bay side of Cape Cod around Eastham and Orleans when I was a teenager. It is exhilarating to notch up the pace to a serious middle distance cadence, zipping across firm wet sand.
Last night we got here at 6:00--the tide was in and I blipped and blooped through soggy sand at a pitched angle and dutifully covered a stretch of beach, but I knew I'd have to catch low tide to really let loose.
This morning at 7:30 the tide was about the same, I warmed up for 14 minutes, again sloggin through wet sand on a sandy slope to the waves. A bit of breakfast and chill time, and I returned to the beach as the heat of the day came on around 10:00 am and it was go time. I peeled off 7 repeats of about 200 meters, slowing increasing the pace to roughly 800 meter race pace. Damn, it's fun to run fast! I felt relaxed and in control, breezing along the surface of flat, packed sand.
For once, I left it at a good point. I sometimes spend all my juice on too many intervals the first day at the beach. Today, I left some gas in the tank for another go at it tomorrow.
I've loved running fast on the beach since I discovered the flat expanses of sandbar on the bay side of Cape Cod around Eastham and Orleans when I was a teenager. It is exhilarating to notch up the pace to a serious middle distance cadence, zipping across firm wet sand.
Last night we got here at 6:00--the tide was in and I blipped and blooped through soggy sand at a pitched angle and dutifully covered a stretch of beach, but I knew I'd have to catch low tide to really let loose.
This morning at 7:30 the tide was about the same, I warmed up for 14 minutes, again sloggin through wet sand on a sandy slope to the waves. A bit of breakfast and chill time, and I returned to the beach as the heat of the day came on around 10:00 am and it was go time. I peeled off 7 repeats of about 200 meters, slowing increasing the pace to roughly 800 meter race pace. Damn, it's fun to run fast! I felt relaxed and in control, breezing along the surface of flat, packed sand.
For once, I left it at a good point. I sometimes spend all my juice on too many intervals the first day at the beach. Today, I left some gas in the tank for another go at it tomorrow.
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
Racing: Did I Fight For It?
Quick thought on racing.
OK, I'm 57 years old. I'm not gonna win races or get PRs at this stage of the game. Yet I still love to race and compete.
I suppose I'm mostly competing with myself; my basic idea is to pace myself wisely, put my best foot forward. Generally, I try to run negative splits in a race for the overall best result. If there are other runners around over the closing stages of the race, I do get competitive.
Bottom line, I want to walk away feeling like I fought for the best possible run I could have that day. It might mean surging to get away from a group of runners with a mile to go, or simply maintaining rhythm when my goose is clearly cooked. On a few glorious occasions, it means burning through the last few miles effortlessly, picking up the pace the whole time.
Should I get to the finish line having worked out how to parcel out my energy well, I'm pretty pumped. Never mind that my pace in a 10K race now would have been an easy day for me up until just a few years ago, a true blue runner never stops chasing that dream and never gives up. And that is plenty enough.
OK, I'm 57 years old. I'm not gonna win races or get PRs at this stage of the game. Yet I still love to race and compete.
I suppose I'm mostly competing with myself; my basic idea is to pace myself wisely, put my best foot forward. Generally, I try to run negative splits in a race for the overall best result. If there are other runners around over the closing stages of the race, I do get competitive.
Bottom line, I want to walk away feeling like I fought for the best possible run I could have that day. It might mean surging to get away from a group of runners with a mile to go, or simply maintaining rhythm when my goose is clearly cooked. On a few glorious occasions, it means burning through the last few miles effortlessly, picking up the pace the whole time.
Should I get to the finish line having worked out how to parcel out my energy well, I'm pretty pumped. Never mind that my pace in a 10K race now would have been an easy day for me up until just a few years ago, a true blue runner never stops chasing that dream and never gives up. And that is plenty enough.
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