Doing Boston

I think I'll save all that marathon excitement for at least another 12 hours. I often tell myself of my own city, "If I could only play tourist, what would I actually do."

So this weekend so far, aside from swiping my credit card at the expo time after time, I was looking forward to enjoying some other obvious to the point of being touristy:

A cannoli from Mike's Pastry. Yes, I actually do like Maria's a bit more. Just got swept in by the modest lineup. And I actually really liked their biscotti.



If there was an organized sport that I loved while growing up, it had to be baseball. The Jays were in their peak (playoff) running seasons between 1984 and 1993, when I watched them battle out the Sox and Yankees (and the Tigers) for the AL East and, well. I loved baseball. Still do, in many respects. So today's trip to Fenway was a long-time wish fulfilled. As I was walking toward it, I was feeling downright giddy. R. could tell. Now I've seen Yankee Stadium, Wrigley Field and Fenway. Soo happy. Explained the finer points of baseball (and all those abbreviations) to R. We shivered so we had hot chocolate and I had a hot dog. And yes, it was actually colder at the concession stands than at the seats.

And yes, I cheered the Sox and the Jays (more silently).

Ah, a real ballpark.



While I'm showing pictures.

The bib (a lower number than last year)



Random Boston art to get you excited



The famous final turn of the course (and one of five on the entire route, we're reminded)



And this world could always use a little more...



To cap it off, I think I need some chowda, but that's for another day.

Come so far, so far to go

Today, I finished a day of work and ran 4 miles. I packed (as all of us who are not from Boston for a little trip) a little earlier than last year, trying to figure out how many combination of race outfits I'd need depending on the weather we get on Monday. T-shirt, singlet, shorts, long T? rain gear? Who knows).

So the passport, Canada hat, bib pickup card and watch are ready to go.



Funny thing about the watch, I checked the total mileage I've put into my Garmin 405 since I got it in September 2008. (Yes, the new 610 got me thinking of replacing it one day)

The readout: 8,102.02 kilometres in 706 hours, 9 minutes, 8 seconds. That's more than 5,000 miles.

Back then, my 2008 self was trying to aim for Boston. Didn't end too well. The 2011 self, I thought during my run on the trail I've run day in day out for many years, has come so far, yet so long to go. Boston 2011 will be awesome in the lets squeeze out every drop of energy I put into running and then reset things. Reset because now with two visits to the hallowed grounds, the third one is no guarantee for a while.

Knowing that I gotta get back to work to book a future trip is humbling. The new standards are actually the same my younger self in 2008 aspired to. So it's really not that out of reach. What has changed is what I want to do next. Race for a BQ? Er, check with me in June. Maybe not five marathons every year from now on. Lots of 'sole' searching, I know. Whatever, I'll leave that runner's dilemma for another day.

For this weekend, god damn, the plan is to bask in the greatness of others, to once again fool myself into thinking I belong (okay, I do, but still, not in my mind). Boston on marathon weekend is a special place. Actually, the route to Boston is pretty awesome too. If we aim for sunny skies, and the crowd is into it, that's the one rave run everyone wants to bask in. Run fast, run for a PR, run for the hills, run for the crowds, run to Boston. And maybe make a pitstop or two.

Running to (and through) Boston

In my head, I've been trying to put that word "taper" aside till later this month. It's not happening, at least the big kind that I often look forward to. In 8 days, I'll be in Hopkinton lining up to run to Boston. Today, I just finished my week before the marathon mileage and all week, I've been pretending I'm in normal training.

The taper monster is around the corner. It wants me to kick back, relax, luring me with the promise of more carbs, more salt and more time to not run so I can do things like twiddle my thumbs, not drink alcohol, blog more and watch running movies.

The last time I had a massive goal marathon, back in the fall of 2009 (yes, that long ago), I was peaking at 70+ miles a week. I saw in that schedule the week before my marathon, I put in 42 miles. Not bad. This cycle, I'm not peaking at more than 55 miles a week, yet last week I put in 54 and I just finished 46 miles for this week.

A lot of marathon programs, even the more 'advanced ones' have you ramping down for the three weeks before race day. The usual formula for a 55 mile peak would be

Three weeks to go: 46 miles
Two weeks to go: 37 miles
Six days leading up to marathon: 22 miles

I really like to rest up the week before the marathon. I'll go as low as 10 miles (which I did on the week leading to my BQ marathon) as long as you throw in some short quality and pace work in.

Which leads me to running through Boston and tapering in general.

I want to treat Boston as yet another victory lap, but also acknowledge that I have no business going out fast. I've been too lazy and time-strapped to do the type of training I did in the summer of 2009. So Boston will have to be a training run. Don't get me wrong, I'm not going to go out at just long slow distance, but I'm not going to test the red line by any stretch. I have a time goal in mind that on paper will look pretty good and not have me slamming into a wall (fingers crossed).

On tapering in general, I believe in keeping the body at alert. The three week taper is a good idea, only if you don't totally take the foot off the gas. I like the Pfitzinger program I've been following for the past four/five years in that the mileage doesn't drop too fast, and it also calls for enough quality work, speedwork and races to keep your legs (and heart) ready for race day.

So while I'm gearing up for Boston, I also don't want to bonk on that course in a big way. Next seven days will be a 'step-back' week with an ultra long run at the end of it. If I get no more than 15 miles pre-Boston, my body's not going to fall off the cardio wagon and I'll lose 3.5 months of training. I know it, my body knows it.

So with that, the one-week taper is on. What will be more interesting is rebounding from the marathon to get some peak mileage the week after so I can really taper for May 15.

A race as a work of genius

"Genius is one per cent inspiration, ninety-nine per cent perspiration," Thomas Edison is said to have coined.

It's a phrase you or I would apply to art, to science or to creating an idea that we would all look upon with wonder. But why does it have to be a scribble on a disposed paper, a eureka moment or something sculpted into a form visible to the eye.

What if a run was a work of art, as much a creation as other works of -- dare we say it -- genius?

(If you want the short form of my argument, just watch a world-class marathoner run)

Somewhere in the middle of my long run this weekend, while my body was still waking up while my mind was fully engaged with one of my favourite podcasts, Radiolab. It was a typical episode, slightly less science-bent, with a segment called "Me, Myself, and Muse." (Listen)

In it, the hosts and their 'guests' talked about the writer's struggle to overcome deadlines, to find inspiration, to perspire and sweat and toil to craft that perfect work that would transcend even their greatest hopes and their perceived talent.

All this talk of sweat got me literally thinking about the parallels between writing and running. In some forms of my professional life, my cohorts struggle to find their voices. In running, we pound the pavement to find our stride. We sweat over pen or keyboard to find a rhythm -- cadence, in the running parlance -- in the ways our words and foot strikes mesh on paper and pavement. In running, you continue to dutifully put in the miles, not unlike the inches of type writers pound out day after day. You are as good as your last story, like you feel of your last pace run. To run is to equip yourself with the syntax of human movement -- quick strides, smooth turnover, easy pace over long distance, which, in the writer's world, can be translated into flowing sentences, carved only by the smooth curvature of a comma -- abruptly interrupted by other more blunt devices.

Writing and running, no wonder there are so many books by runners for runners.

But of that first phrase, 1 per cent inspiration, I find big solace in that the runner's world has its equivilant.

Liz Gilbert (yes, that one, I know, I know), in the Radiolab segment, likened the writer's technique of pausing, letting the muse strike at unknown times to give that 1% inspiration. I remember being told almost 15 years ago in one of my first feature writing classes that if you had done your reporting and you still didn't know how to start your story, the best thing to do was to walk away. And let inspiration strike.

"It's a bargain to get 1% inspiration, it's a miracle," she said. She spoke about speaking to your work, of how she couldn't come up with the title of her book until she addressed it fully (yes, a little odd), but how different is that for those of us who speak to our bodies or body parts. "Hello legs, will you give me a miracle?"

Ninety-nine perspiration? I believe that is what makes a runner. Race day is where that 1% comes into the picture.

I guess this flows through my mind because I was thinking of how one achieves the perfect race. True, in everyday running, I sometimes pull off the most amazing splits, when everything feels just perfect. Those 7:15 miles feel easy, tempo is not problem, trackwork is painful but at the same time a joy, if happiness is defined by being hunched over, or catching your breath with your hands on your hips. You know what I mean, especially on those other days when everything feels so... ordinary. Too many of them.

I guess when I look back at my progression as a distance runner, there are many moments that I would not be out of turn when I describe them as "great works." My best 30K run on a hot muggy day in the dark in the middle of heavy training. Wish I could put that one on the wall. My marathon PB? Gorgeous. Messy at times, but I look back at my calm mind, my smooth first half, my finishing ability and the artful way I dodged the wall?

I may have a huge-ass medal, a nice little race picture and even a trip or two to Boston, but in my mind's eye, that kind of run is one that I love to appreciate, to try to recapture. It's a showing for one, one of best long runs a marathoner could get. And that was a work of genius.

The best part? To this day, I still love to put in the 99%

Race report: Harry's Spring Run-off 8K

This year's edition of the Harry's Spring Run-off was a little different. The last two years, I ran the 'double,' that is, I ran the 8K followed less than an hour later the 5K.

As races go, no matter how more corporate the Run-Off has begun, it is clearly the first big race of the spring. It has a legendary hilly course and it ultimately very challenging if you set to go race the sucker.

This year would be my chance again. No excuses of a back-to-back schedule. The week before the race is supposed to be my taper for Boston, but I was still throwing mileage instead of taking it easier. From Monday to Thursday, I put in 30 miles, not a bad amount given how busy it is.

Speedwork? That's gone to crap this spring. Haven't done it. Tempos have been non-existent and the last time I visited the track a few weeks ago, I ran two miles at marathon pace, no faster.

Anyways, having done plenty of endurance and pace training, I was ready to hurt. I ran enough of these races to know it's probably better to have your heart going so I did some 100 metre pickups. Man my heart hated the pace.

I watched my co-worker head to the front of the first corral while I let a good crowd get between us. It's my own race, I thought, and psyched myself for 35 minutes of pain.

The start was good, I tried to keep it comfortable without getting my heart rate up to high. Already people were jockeying for position but I kept a good cadence and just watched racers around me who looked comfortable.

The run-off has two major downhills, two major uphills. The first downhill comes at the mile mark (1.6K) and we plunged down the hill.

1 04:06
2 04:12

Obviously, we weren't going quite at full speed. At the bottom of the hill, I sensed that the runners around me had clearly gone out too fast and were settling into slower paces. I remember the moment well, because it was when I moved from behind a runner to beside him, and started to race.

3 04:19

The first crappy uphill is around the 3.5K mark. You can see my splits around here aren't bad, 4:19 to 4:27. I passed a few runners but I knew it wasn't the hill that was the issue, it was the recovery on the flat past the half way mark so I could race the second half in a good way.

4 04:27

The path had thinned by this point so if I wanted to make some ground, I'd have to pick it up. The start of the 5K mark is the second big downhill. I decided to go a little harder

5 04:09

That was followed by small rollers. I was hurting a little at this point. My body is not accustomed recently to such speedwork, so I relied on, what you call it? Guts. Or it was more like, Body: "crap, I want to stop so badly." Mind: "STFU, just get to the 4 mile mark, you can do one mile after that in your sleep."

6 04:04

Not bad. The last two kilometres slowly rise, so I just kept going, trying to pace okay to save some room for the last big hill.

7 04:20

Now, I'd like to write about the final hill. Spring Road. We plunged down it after mile 1. I ran it the other day and marvelled at how freaking long and painful it was. There are good tangents to run it, but in the end, it's pretty much relying on your guts.

The hill itself is about 350 metres and you rise about 850 feet. That is after you have risen 50 feet in the half mile leading up to that point.

Anyways, here's a shot of the hill more than halfway up. See the pain?



Took it hard but had enough energy to run it in and turn the corner.

8 04:31

Final chip time was 34:16, or about 20 seconds off my course PB. Happy with the 4:19 pace. And my legs weren't banged up that much, just put in a strong long run this afternoon.