Run for the Cheetah 2008

A few Saturdays ago I attended the Run for the Cheetah, a 5k at the Cleveland Metroparks Zoo. The zoo is a fine place for a run; the entrance and savannah (and race start) are about 100′ lower in elevation than the primate building and aquarium. The route, as we found out a few minutes before the starting whistle, would encompass two laps of the hill.

My memory of the race: beep, escape crowd, gradual uphill; monkeys! Left turn, winding path, giraffes! Past the flamingos, hang a right, big uphill. Tortoises, cheetahs, big downhill. Kangaroos lined up along a fence, snouts flopping side-to-side like tennis spectators. Lap; repeat. The attentive kangaroos made my day, and I enjoyed walking around the zoo afterward seeing the unusually attentive critters pre-opening-time.

Unless I’m mistaken, this is my first 5k running race. 23:07, a 7:27/mi pace averaged over this elevation profile.
Given the coincident start of the fall semester, this concludes the bulk of my 2008 training as well, for a total of about 700 miles of cycling, 600 miles on foot and 10 miles in the water. Time (no time?) for some mild strength training and occasional anti-stress running before rebuilding a winter base.

Lorain Olympic 2008

On Sunday was NCN’s Lorain Sprint/Olympic tri, at Lakeview Park [1] on the far west side. I opted for the longer distance; I missed my chance at an oly earlier with the swim cancellation at GTC, and needed to offset a fair amount of couch-sitting watching the actual olympics.

First, if you’re driving an hour to a 7am race registration, remember to leave time to find a bridge completely closed for repair and investigate detour possibilities. I did so, surprisingly. The sprint waves were scheduled to start at 8 but started late (par for the course, I learned), so the olympic wouldn’t depart until 8:30. That left me just enough time to break off my front valve stem while topping off to 120 psi, then jog over to the Bike Authority tent for a quicker (and more reliable) tube change than I could have managed myself. I racked the bike, dropped my gear into little piles on my stripy blue towel and headed toward the beach.

The weather was beautiful, though we could tell at 8:30 that the run a couple hours later would be toasty. The swim was largely outside the breakwall and featured reasonable rollers, enough that breathing into the waves was (for me, at least) impossible. Once I got that rhythm down I reduced my intake of crisp, clean Lake Erie and was able to start swimming; yet, it took me a solid 15 minutes to do so. That swim ate my lunch like a sixth grade bully. [2] (Fortunately, it would be nice enough to return it halfway through the run.) Regardless, starting at about the halfway point I did really start to enjoy the swim. I was slow, and a wetsuit wouldn’t have hurt, but I had a steady crawl going and it started to feel like a nice pool workout interjected by the occasional panicked search for and realignment toward the next buoy. I express my displeasure in histogram form.
The bike and run were uneventful. The bike course was fairly flat, two loops. I averaged 19.4 mph for 22-ish miles, which is about right for me but sub-median in this crowd, composed mostly of the 20-22 crowd. Transition to the run was fair; I had taken in one bottle on the bike but needed more, not having hydrated well before the race. That hit me on the run, which started off as expected (painful for the first mile, then picks up) but just died at about mile 4. I ran / jogged / limped through cramps and dizziness for most of miles 4 and 5; either my gel and generous use of gatorade stops or fear of a weak-looking finish in front of the crowd helped pick up the last mile or so. 10k at 9:19/mi, bringing me one bar further left in the aforeshown histogram.

[1] Not to be confused with Lakeside Park (willows in the breeze / so many memories?)
[2] As I recall, no bully ever actually did this to my lunch, not even on cucumber sandwich day

Twilight Trail Run 2008

On 8/14, I joined the local Twilight Trail Run, an 8-km, moderately-hilly trail route. It’s halfway between an actual race and an after-work jogging party. There are numbers and a clock, but the start is a fun stagger by age (with bumps in exchange for small charity donations) and you receive a can of domestic on your way through the finish chute. It was a nice chance to say hi to numerous folks I’d met or seen at various training groups throughout the summer.

The route is the same year-to-year, so I thought it provided a nice benchmark.

This year: 39:08 (7:53 pace, 59th/160)
Last year: 44:01 (8:52 pace)

It was a little cooler this year, but still humid, so I’ll chalk up the improved time to my increased level of awesomeness.

Greater Cleveland “Triathlon” 2008

Sunday was the Greater Cleveland Triathlon. The race was on my list for the summer, but my training schedule hasn’t been strong (exercising: yes; training: um…), so I hadn’t signed up. But, as racing is more fun than not racing, I stopped by Headlands Beach Saturday to sign my waivers, join USAT for one day and admire the whitecaps on Lake Erie.

At six o’clock Sunday morning I arrived at the race and admired the same waves on the same lake. It didn’t take long for the race organizer to note that the local Coast Guard couldn’t find a calm place to park to oversee the swimmers, so the Tri was rearranged into a Dualthlon, with a 1+ mile (foot) sprint to the bike racks replacing the swim leg. Running a mile certainly isn’t as tiring as swimming, but it does use a remarkably similar muscle set as the biking and, well, running portions.

I entered the Olympic-distance race. (Had I known that the swim would be cancelled, I would have tried the half-iron bike+run; please don’t tell any of the real triathletes that I’m swim-limited.) The start times were all pushed back a bit to account for reorganization; the half-distance (twice the Oly) started at 7:30; we at 8:00 or so. I kept a good pace for the opening run, middle-of-the-pack -ish at 8:13 (m:ss). My transition to the bike was fair, at 1:21. I managed to keep a clear head and get my helmet and sunglasses on, switch shoes and jog out of transition. I was near the back of transition (furthest from the bike entrance/exit), but I think if there’s a separate split for running on cleats while pushing a bicycle, I would have been in the top 3. A la Gazelle.

The bike course had some medium-frequency undulations, but overall was 2/3 uphill followed by 1/3 downhill, with a couple of long, drawn-out bumps in the middle. I did more passing than being passed, but for the most part played tag with the same few riders throughout. There were a number of right-angle turns, guarded by the local PD and littered with cones, that I executed well, winning several positions by exiting them quickly (credit: my high-speed commute route through Cleveland Heights). I was also surprised how much passing I did on the downhill sections, considering that I ride road bars, but I did make an effort to push on the downhills to keep momentum through the rolling sections. The strategy was successful in getting to an occupied train track for a 3-minute stretch break while the gravel express rolled by. (The stop time was noted by race officials, who subtracted it at the end. Classy.) I thought it would be bright to change to a lower gear while stopped, and was still turning the crank with my hand trying to get it to shift when the train cleared. Oops.

The end of the bike was a big, clumpy mess. The ride back up route 44 to the beach is downhill and smooth, but all three race routes converged, and there wasn’t enough room to ride quickly or keep four bike-lengths (the no-drafting distance rule). Probably out of fear of drafting, slow riders weren’t pulling back right after passing, nor riding quickly enough to pass effectively. I spent some time outside the cones, in the car-traffic lane, and passed gobs of folks (the slow end of the sprint race, I’ll bet). 1:14:28 for 23 miles.

For the first time, I successfully removed my feet from my shoes while coasting and semi-elegantly hopped off my bike for the run into transition. Yet, somehow, I spent 2:12 in T2. Did I stop to read the paper?

The run went as expected. The first mile was painful, and interrupted briefly by a bathroom break (beginning of the run course next to the big public park restrooms? Brilliant!). I walked through the first water stop for a chug of classic lemon-lime, but ran the rest, taking advantage in several cases of very steady runners moving just a bit too fast for my comfort. As I ran, my comfort increased, and I passed most of them. By mile 4 I was ready to run and upped the pace a bit (I guessed at the time, from 8:30 to about 7:50) and ran in moderate exhaustion through the end. I attacked the downhills well (the last a little too aggressively, which is why my foot is up today in hamstring-extension mode). I actually let up a bit at the end to let a woman who’d unknowingly helped pace me through the end of the run finish ahead; but, as it turned it didn’t matter in the standings, since my train-waiting time would be subtracted. I’ll keep that in mind next time: always beat women. Upon looking at the results, I thought I had actually beaten the women, but I hadn’t noticed the top 3 finishers listed separately, each of whom handily smoked me. Run: 10k at 51:12, an 8:14/mi pace.

Thus ends a long race report for a small race.
2:17:26; Placed 41/109 overall and 3/6 in my age group.

Sweet corn challenge 2008

Catching up: last Sunday I bicycled 100 miles, my first century, at this year’s Sweet Corn ride. I’ve done the 50-mile version of the ride each of the previous two years. The weather was beautiful: sunny and medium-warm, perfect for a thin bike jersey and noticeable perspiration only on long uphills. I started to get tired at about the 80-mile mark, by 95 miles was checking my watch every mile (are we there yet?) and between 100 and 106 miles (make up distance — I took a couple of wrong turns) even more often. I rode with a few different folks; I knew perhaps a dozen folks riding that route this year, and I met and rode with more along the way.

On to the facts and figures:
6:30 moving time; 15.6 mph (yup, I’m that slow)
1:10 rest time (yup, the food was that good)
6100′ uphill (and 6100′ downhill, I suppose)

The route didn’t seem this convoluted while riding:
But, the correlation between elevation change and speed is sensible. The speed data are smoothed: I actually saw real-time speed (from my rear-wheel sensor) >45mph on two occasions, making this ride both a speed and distance PR.

Huntington sprint triathlon

On Sunday the 20th was the Huntington sprint triathlon at a lake-side park of the same name in nearby Bay Village. Here’s the Google satellite view – the swim start was near those jetties.

I had a bundle of fun at this race: I did the same one (though the swim route differed) in 2006 and enjoyed it then; I’ve been itching to race again, not having sprinted into a lake with dozens of men in tight shorts in nearly a year; and a number of friends and occasional training partners were racing as well.

I was slower this year than in 2006, but the course was slower also: then, 16 people finished in under an hour; this year only the top 3 did. It looks like the swim course was the main difference: it was insanely short in ’06 (with median swim times on the order of 5 minutes), but more reasonable this time with a median of, say, 10 minutes.

How to start a short tri swim: line up on the outside edge of the group, second or third row from the water. The 10-second deficit isn’t worth getting trampled for, and I take kicks in the face pretty well. Take it easy jogging into the water, aim 15′ outside of the first buoy, enjoy the water, relax, get aerobic.

How not to start: line up as suggested, at the edge of the group, next to a few big rocks. Sprint into the water, having enjoyed a very nice warmup while latecomers push the starting time back by 10 minutes, not considering that said big rocks might continue their stretch submarinially. Splash, splash, slip, whump. A few unexpected gulps of Erie and minor gashes and abrasions from my left shin to the toes accompanied my surprise, but I don’t think I spend more than a few seconds dumbfounded before regaining my footing and hopping into the catch up with (some of) the group.

As it was, 11:19 for the swim, which may have included some barefoot jogging from the beach to the transition area. I felt like I spent many moons pulling on my socks and bike shoes, but the clock said 1:47, which is fair. I skipped a bike shirt this time, having noted that it takes at least an extra minute to try to pull on a jersey after my wimpy shoulders’ version of an aqueous sprint.

The bike was a shallow uphill out, a quick blast down a blacktop trail through the woods, then a mostly-downhill return trip. 36:28 vs 37:17 last time. I’m not sure the difference is significant, except that my time this year included getting my shoes off while still on the bike, before hitting the transition mat. (All the cool kids are doing it.) I was not graceful. As an aside, I rode without the use of my small front chainring, thanks to a shifter problem either identified or caused by the friendly mechanics at Eddy’s; but, the course was pretty flat, and if I was in better cycling shape I probably would have preferred to pound it out on the big ring anyway.

My T2 felt good; I racked quickly (thanks, stripey blue towel!), pulled on my now-ancient sneakers with new yellow stretchy laces, swapped ol’ yeller for my favorite running cap, ditched sunglasses and hopped along. I’ll bet I was under 45 seconds, but they didn’t publish T2 times, only lumped T2+Run times. My official T2+Run was 25:57.

So, 2006: 1:12:09, place 100/219, in age group 6/8.
This race: 1:15:31, place 83/240, in age group 14/22.

Congrats to Rachel, who finished 1/8 in her age group, and Bob, who finished 2/26 amongst fat guys. Yup, that’s a category.

Finally, a snapshot of some folks from our Sunday a.m. running group (a.k.a. the “Roads Scholars”, as soon as we get our shirts back from the printer) who raced.

Cleveland marathon

On Sunday I ran the Cleveland marathon, my first attempt at that distance. In short, I survived it reasonably well, finishing the race in 4:07, not far from my “A” goal of four hours. I finished the morning happy with the results of my training and under the impression that ratcheting up my performance the next time around (ahem!) will be quite feasible.

Supergolf slid into a probably-legal [1] street spot a bit after 6:00 for a 7-am start. There was still lots of close parking available; we camped out and watched a medium-sized downpour. (I must have been in a triathlon mindset where arriving an hour early is pushing it; setup here consisted only of pulling on runners and sauntering into the madding crowd.) 50F would have been about perfect without the rain, but I generate heat pretty well, so I stuck with my planned outfit: an ancient EMS tech T and my cheapo Adidas outlet-store shorts. This was the largest race mob I’ve encountered; the marathon and half-mary started together with about 6000 runners. I was surprised how quickly the herd spread out to leg-extending distance after the bell; it took me almost 3 minutes to reach the starting line, but was up to a full stride shortly thereafter.

The rain eased up after only a few minutes; as I recall, it was still sprinkling at the mile 2 water stop (enough for an easy joke about getting wet from careless cup-throwers), but not much thereafter. It remained pretty cloudy for 90 minutes or so, then ambient brightness increased slowly from there. The first couple of miles were downtown and semi-jovial; I passed lots of people (as usual, I started too far back) and trashbag-poncho-wearing wimps chatted while transforming their gladware into slippery road hazards. From downtown, the race continued onto the (closed to traffic!) Route 2 Shoreway, a stretch of elevated freeway with nice views of Lake Erie, the flats district and the Cuyahoga River. I don’t remember any of that; I do remember that the pavement was grooved parallel to my direction of travel (with approximately eight grooves per width of my left shoe), the painted lane markers were still slick from the moisture, and my passing-to-being-passed ratio was between six and seven. This is typical: miles 4-5 are difficult, then my legs would start to get into their long-run groove.

And, they did. By the time we came down from the highway, past Edgewater and into Lakewood I was in a running mood. I lived between 8:30 and 8:45 for the next several miles, passing a few more people, but I’d found about the right pace surroundings by this point. There was a good crowd gathered at and around the turnaround at W. 117th (we had run West from downtown, then went South a block and turned East to run along a parallel road back toward the city). I had been running with Nic until I took a short break for weight optimization near mile 5, but caught back up with him and Emily at about mile 9, as we approached the Detroit Rd. bridge back into downtown.

Somewhere amongst obsessively checking my Garmin for pace (and playing the game where I check my circulating O2 partial pressure by seeing how long it takes to calculate my average pace from total time and distance) during this interim, I thought about how much sexier my ankle muscles were than at the beginning of my training in January: another indication that my brain had switched from glucose as a fuel source to that funny steam coming up from vents in the street. I have put my ankles to good use, though: I’ve run about 350 miles so far in 2008 [2]; I wonder how much I’ve run in the first 27 years of my life combined? Anyway, I am probably in the best physical shape of my life, and like the idea that I still have lots of room for improvement.

Mile 10, right before the bridge: a small pep band. Blue marching uniforms, shiny Sousaphones, 4/4 arrangements of 70s pop tunes, oh my! They noticed one runner hollering a “Go Band! Yeah!” as we jogged by, but I’m sure I wasn’t the only one.

The half-marathon crowd started to speed up as they approached their turnoff; I sped up a bit, but mostly resisted the herd mentality and looked around for blue bibs to stick near. The trip through downtown was quick, and a few miles later I could see the familiar clock tower of the BRB. Around the art museum and botanical gardens, past CIM and onto MLK we went. MLK was closed to traffic as well (I wasn’t sure, since it has nice paths alongside); most of the street is well-shaded, but the open sections revealed that the sun had come out in full. I chatted with a group of first-timers also timidly still aiming for four hours for much of the MLK leg, and said hello to Janet, with whom I had the fortune of doing a training run a few weeks ago and who would have been far ahead of me under more favorable circumstances. I felt rather not-like-I-hit-a-wall through miles 18 and 19 and made the turn onto the lakeside running path back toward downtown.

At mile 20 I checked my watch for a finishing-time prediction: I had 10k left to run and was just over three hours. I think it took a good mile to synthesize a quotient, during which time I also decided that the likelihood of keeping up my 9-minute pace (9:05 average at the 30k mark) was quickly diminishing. I felt some of the 21-mile wall that marathoners describe, but also found that the headwind threw off my stride a bit. It was time for a few calories (my last 2 clif blocks; I chewed 2 at mile 8 and mile 15 as well) and a water stop. I wasn’t sure if SeƱor Asthma (my alveolae are Spanish) was bugging me or not, but an albuterol assault helped significantly. So, either I was having trouble or I have a great suggestion for next year’s Tour de France contestants.

[Photo: running back toward downtown, ca. mile 22]

Around mile 22 I walked through a water stop and saw someone quad-stretching by bending their knee and holding their foot up behind them. My oxygen-deprived cingulate cortex said “ooh, that would feel good!”, and before I could intervene my knee passed about 30 degrees of flex and instigated a hamstring cramp the size of, well, my hamstring. Given the options of starting to run again or fall to the ground crying, I elected the former; this worked well, as my the time I’d run through the cramp/pain, I had another mile under my belt.

From there on we were back in downtown. I caught up to Joe H., who also runs with the Lyndhurst Second Sole group and with whom I’d been exchanging cruise-control settings all morning; he was nice enough to wish me luck before taking off. I kept my slow jog until a short uphill near Browns stadium, which I walked, then picked up to “if I’d been running like this the whole time, I’d have finished before breakfast” pace for the last couple of miles through the crowd. The final quarter-mile or so was a straight stretch to the finishing arch; the gratuitously overamplified PA and cheering clumps of spectators or long-finished half-marathoners gave me plenty of energy for a final a tempo stride to the end.

[Photo: the home stretch]
[Photo: almost there]

And that was it [3]. I grinned, I t
hink; it took a few seconds to realize I was in as much non-injury, exercise-induced pain as I’d even been in, but not so much that I minded or doubted for a moment that what I’d done was a bad idea. I clicked ‘stop’ on my watch, grabbed a water and a chocolate milk and wandered into the crowd.

[1] I worry too much; by 30 minutes later cars were parked in much less-legal spots all around us.

[2] For a better training summary, see my training summary graph. I aimed for a (increasingly-long) long run each week, which pops up above the cluster of midweek faster runs. I’ve apparently learned how to run faster as well: a linear fit to the pace for all of those runs reveals that I would have run 5.9 mph on New Years Day and am increasing by 0.006 mph per day. That underestimates my gains, of course, since I would run faster yet if eight miles was still my “long, slow” run, but gives me an excuse to use Excel for a blog post nonetheless.

[3] And, here’s the gmaps view of the course, as reported by my GPS track.

Hermes 10-miler

On Saturday I ran in the Hermes 10-mile race in downtown Cleveland. I’m not a runner, but it’s always more fun to jog alongside bundles of other people. In this case, about 800 people ran the 10-mile distance (there was a simultaneous 5k), including ten from my usual weekend running group, the Roads Scholars. We’re not the first to pun that, though I don’t know of any other running clubs to do so – only transportation industry experts and traveling part-time faculty – and I’m sure our homophonic spree en route to it was the most spectacular.

The race wasn’t bad: it had a fun starting location (near E. 4th street, a reasonably hip spot), was chip-timed and featured mostly blocked-off streets. However, after the first mile or two on proper downtown roads, the course swung out onto a long out-and-back parallel to Lake Erie and I-90 (between highway and Lake out, then across the highway, then South of the highway back). The only thing exciting about that was compensating for the lake breeze and “hills” (read: highway ramps). The word on the street was that the previous year’s race routed over the bridge to Ohio City and back – that would have felt more like an urban race.

My performance was fair: I hung in pretty well over the first 5 miles at 8:20/mile or so, but the return trip, a bit hillier, suffered. I walked two of the water stops, but in an unusually coordinated move managed to chew a couple of clif cubes whilst running before the mile 6 water (note: tasty and easier to choke down than gel).

Overall, just a hair under 9:00/mile – 1:29:45 total time, which put me in 385th place overall according to the race results, and 48/65 among men aged 25-29.

That said, I’m pretty sure only one other guy aged 25-29 ran this race as the second half of a 20-miler. Andrew and I made a morning of it, running a 10-mile “warmup” at about 8:10/mile, then almost immediately stepping up to the starting line for the race bell (I’m happy that race guns are going extinct). Water stops and motivation in numbers make for a great 2nd-half of a training run.

On the map, we started on the right, running West to downtown; the loops around town and spur along the lake comprised the 10-miler.

Training 2008-W14

Week 14 already! The marathon is at week 20, so lots of miles yet to log.

I started out the week sore from Sunday’s run, taking Monday to rest and hitting the pool Tuesday for a relaxed 1000 yd plus a few lengths of rotation drills. Swimming felt great, and my breathing was comfortable throughout (nasal cilia: “ahem, except for when you practiced flip-turns”).

On Wednesday I did a lunch run from the office: intervals of 1km, 2, 1, 1 with ~500m jogs in-between. At least, it was close to that. I used the garmin to measure the distances, but have it set statute measurement. I did just fine calculating metric distance and pace in my warmup and first interval, but after my legs starting suctioning available oxygen, my processing speed really slowed down. (I wonder what happens physiologically here — it does seem real: that doing calculations is much more difficult while running quickly when (I presume) I’m running an oxygen deficit. Just lower PO2 up there?) Anyway, according to the GPS output I ended up doing something that looked like intervals after all.

My usual weekend long run group was heading to Strongsville for the CWRRC Spring Classic half marathon, either to volunteer or run. Joining them seemed easier than plotting our my own route (13 miles was on my training schedule anyway), so I pinned on a race number for my first legitimate HM. Conditions were awesome: about 40 when we started and a bit foggy, warming up to perhaps 50 and sunny over the course of the race. The course was a reasonably flat route through the Mill Stream Run metropark: mostly two laps of an out-and-back, so we got to share high-fives a great number of times with colleagues of a different pace.

I covered the first 2/3 of the distance alongside a colleague of similar pace, but then Chris (who had never run 13 miles before – ha!) went superman on us and sped up for a negative split, finishing at 1:46:01. I kept my pace, picking it up a little bit in the last mile (must.. beat.. girls..) to finish in 1:48:10. That’s a PR for me (in the sense that I’ve also never run that fast in training), and a confidence-inspiring official 8:15/mile average, or 8:09 in GPS-land (which measured my run as 13.3, maybe accounting for starting so far back at the beginning, or perhaps I did a lot of drunken swerving after the water stops).

Aurora Turkey Trot

A thanksgiving tradition for some, I suppose: running off those calories before chowing down. I ran the “first annual” (presumptuous!) trot in Aurora.

Start: on the order of hundreds of runners lined up in scant more than a traffic lane wide. I started too far back, but didn’t waste more than 15 seconds before taking to the grass (read: mud) to escape the pack.

The route was a pleasant out-and-back with small elevation changes, all paved, through and around some school grounds with buildings and playing fields.

Mile 1, 7:34. A little faster than I wanted to be (my stretch goal was 31:20, “good race” at 32:00), but feeling good.

Mile 1.8. Ouch; I didn’t hit anything funny on the pavement, but my right ankle started hurting right… there. Admittedly, it was a little sore from some swim-fin-laden drills on Sunday, but not injury sore.

Mile 2, 7:55. It felt right on pace with mile 1, maybe a little faster, but I jogged a bit and tried to stretch out the ankle. Mile 3, 9:55 and limping. Mile 4, 8:30. Oh, now it’s feeling better; I must have healed.

Clock in at 33:5x. Not pretty. Stretch, drive home, preheat our thanksgiving-side-dish corn with my new tibiofibular stovetop.

Well, I’d been hoping to do more core work and swimming anyway.
Furthermore, plenty of time before
starting actual,
scheduled training.