Training Update: Taperitis

Tapering, I thought, would be awesome. Cutting back on mileage? Slowing it down, for the most part? Yes, please. I looked forward to easy workouts, and more free time to catch up on laundry, pick up a new knitting project, read more, etc.

How misguided I can be.

Instead of feeling rejuvenated and ready to roll lately, I have felt terrible. Although the scale doesn't show it, my legs tell me that I've gained at least 50 pounds when I head out for a run, these days. My right hamstring aches constantly, and my left knee, which never hurt during my heavier weeks, is sore. Even my right ankle is getting cranky for no good reason. To top it off, supportive friends keep asking me how my training is going, and it's all I can do to put on a happy face and tell them that I feel great and am getting really excited. In fact, feel awful and was getting really scared. I was beginning to worry that I'd even finish the race in (gulp) less than a week, much less put in anything like a good performance.

But my generation has a mantra, and I chanted it to myself this morning as I was beginning to really approach panic-mode. "Google first, worry later." To the Internet.

Within five minutes, I'd read several discussion boards and a Runner's World article that have given me new hope. What I am suffering is so common that it even has several names, among them Taperitis, Taper Madness, Taper Blues, and Taper Tantrums. One blogger assures that Taper Madness is not fatal, but symptoms include emotional angst, mental anxiety, physical stress, and driving loved ones crazy. And according to the Runner's World article, "Twinges and passing aches are all part of the body's rejuvenation process. 'During a taper, tissue repair on the microscopic level causes muscle twitches and sometimes muscle cramps as the body adapts,' says Dr. Smurawa. Also, when we run less, and worry more about our marathon, everyday aches and pains-which would normally be ignored--get exaggerated to the point of lunacy." 

I've never been happier to be called a lunatic. I can't tell you how reassuring it is that other people experience this. Maybe I'm not necessarily doomed. And so, for now, my pre-race plan will be as follows:

1) Chill out. Maybe engage in some positive visualization or something.
2) Related: Read as many articles as I can about the course* so I know exactly what to expect. Finalize plan for where my family and friends will be standing.
3) Go on easy runs daily. During the early part of the week, throw in a few short intervals of race-pace running so I remember what it feels like. Finish workouts with stride-outs. 
4) Do dynamic stretching before workouts and roll hamstrings, hips, and quads after. 
5) Eat lots of simple carbs on Friday and Saturday. Also, drink lots of Gatorade. 
6) Repeat words of wisdom from various sources. "The week before the race is a mind game." -My wise and running-savvy friend Juan. "Keep the faith and stay the course." -My boss, who is not a runner but who is still wise. "Your months of training are not going to just go away in a week." -Some dude on a runners' discussion board I found online. "If you're afraid of it then you have to do it." -Ed

Having a plan in place has always made me feel calmer. Writing is helpful, too. I have no idea what will actually  happen on the big day, but I spent a lot of time preparing, and there's really nothing more I can do now (except screw it up by running too hard or falling down the stairs.) And there's a certain comfort in knowing that you've done all you can and it's time to turn it over to fate. So bring it on, marathon. 


*A friend asked me recently whether I'd done a lot of training on the course, and, unfortunately, the answer is no. In a perfect world, I'd have run the course to get a sense of what I'll face, but for 364 days of the year it's not very conducive to running. At least one of the bridges on the course is closed to pedestrians every day of the year but marathon day, and the rest of the route goes along streets that are choked with car, bike, and pedestrian traffic, which makes for frustrating and fairly worthless workouts. A tiny part of the race goes through Central Park, so I'll be on familiar ground for a little while. But for the most part, I will have to rely on reading to know what to expect. I've done a lot of this already, and it's really been  helpful. For example, I know that the first mile (the first half of the Verazzano Bridge) will be all uphill, and the second mile will be all downhill. Information like this is invaluable, both because it will help me plan my strategy (slower than race pace until I get to the "top" of the bridge), and because I'll be more confident on race day. Feeling exhausted 800 meters in would be pretty demoralizing, but now I know that, yes, I'll probably feel pretty lethargic at first because I'm running uphill, and that's OK because every step brings me closer to a long downhill stretch.

Apocalyptical! Radiolab, live.

Radiolab is popular, even on cold nights

As a big fan of Radiolab, a radio program and podcast about science, broadcast my NPR, I was very excited when our friends Scott and Genevieve invited us to go see a live performance. I wasn't quite sure what to expect. Obviously, there's not a lot to see behind the scenes of an average radio show. But these live Radiolab shows have been selling out all over the place, and I'd heard they were wonderful. In fact, the show Scott and Genevieve were going to see was not originally part of the schedule. It had to be added after one of the planned New York shows sold out so quickly that they realize they should probably do another. So I bought two tickets several months ago settled in to wait until, last night, it was finally show time.

The show opened with a sort of stand-up comedy routine by another radio personality, and then the performers took the stage. Hosts Jad Abumrad and Robert Krulwich were joined onstage by a guitarist, a bassist, a drummer, and a guy who managed their digital video content, which was broadcast on three large screens behind them. It's always a little strange to see the unfamiliar faces behind the familiar voices on the radio. Ed and I had seen these guys at a Symphony Space show before, though, there were no surprises in store for us. Robert is older than he sounds, and Jad is a bit nerdier. For those who don't listen to Radiolab, and I highly recommended that everyone should, I will explain that each radio show typically centers around a theme. Last night was no different. The show was called Apocalyptical, and the theme was endings.

J and R cower near the musicians on the right, while a dinosaur looms left

Most Radiolab episodes are made up of four to six stories that explore the theme from different angles. Jad and Robert usually interview involved parties and experts for each story, and throw in a lot of their own explanations, observations, and humorous comments along the way. We started last night with the longest segment first: a story about what really caused the extinction of the dinosaurs. A large dinosaur (or, rather, a man in an enormous, fairly convincing costume) joined them on stage, where it growled and leaned over to sniff people in the front row and lashed its large tail around, causing Jad and Robert to have to dodge while they attempted to interview it. Then the dinosaur left the stage and Jad and Robert sat behind a table and spoke into stationary, tabletop mics while flipping through binders; I imagine this I what it usually looks like when they tape a show. But their performance was enhanced by the screens behind us, which showed what happens when a bullet is fired into water (to show what a Mt. Everest-sized asteroid would have done to the atmosphere as it barreled toward Earth) and footage from other experiments. All the while, the musicians were doing a fantastic job of accompanying performance - Ed said later that the music was one of his favorite parts. In the past, I have always felt vaguely sorry for dinosaurs when thinking about their plight, but Jad and Robert painted a picture so vivid of what their last hour must have been like that by the end of the segment I was very melancholy indeed.

Happily, yet another person in a costume took the stage for the start of the next segment to cheer me up. This time, it was a rodent-like creature that Jad and Robert introduced as everyone's great great great great great great great great great great great grandmother. She had a technical name (Hypothetical Placental Ancestor), but when John and Robert were doing interviews for the story,

Shrewdinger (photo from an earlier performance)

they learned that she has not yet been given a common name. They decided to poll their fans and sent out a call for nominations on various crowdsourcing platforms. (One suggestion was Placentor.) Then there was a final round of voting, and they were disappointed when the winner turned out to be "Shrewdinger." (I thought it was pretty funny.) On a related note, it turns out that in addition to our furry ancestor lacking a name, there is no word in the English language for the last individual belonging to a species. People have suggested the terms "endling" and "terminarch," but Jad and Robert said they didn't like those and polled the audience for other ideas. People yelled out their nominations and the video guy wrote them all down. My personal favorite was "concludador" and I thought of yelling "ultimaton," but I figured they wouldn't be able to hear me from the balcony  The audience voted on "done-o-saur."

Next, we learned about the elements in the periodic table. The further down you go, the more poisonous the elements come. Jad and Robert pointed out that, strangely bismuth is sandwiched unexpectedly in between several of deadly elements. Bismuth is the main ingredient in Pepto-Bismol that people take to feel better, not worse, which doesn't seem to fit. We got to watch footage of an experiment involving bismuth, and Jad and Robert drank a toast with two large mugs of pink liquid just the color of Pepto-Bismol. For their sake, I hope it was actually a strawberry milkshake.

The final story, as is often typical of Radiolab, blended science with psychology and philosophy. Jad and Robert interviewed two stage actors have been diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease. Parkinson's would be terrible for anybody to have, but it's particularly bad for stage actors. The inability to control one's speech and movements pretty is much the last nail in the coffin of one's acting career. But these guys decided to do one last show, a play by Samuel Beckett called Endgame that seemed to fit their personal, offstage experiences with the disease. The single performance was preceded by lots of dismal rehearsals due to the actors' physical difficulties, but it ended up being a huge success - far better than they ever could have hoped. It was a moving segment about what one does when is faced with the end of one's way of life and the end life in one fell swoop. These two men did it with grace and humor. One of the actors was in the audience, and when Jad pointed him out everyone gave him a standing ovation.

Our intrepid hosts

The show was over before I knew it. While I really enjoyed it and seeing it live was a lot of fun, I have to say that I didn't find the live show to be markedly better than the radio version. This is a comment motivated by my admiration of their recorded shows, however, not by my distaste for the live show. The live show was great. But their radio shows are great, too. I'd still recommend that people go to see Radiolab live, if they have a chance. But for those who don't, download free podcasts or tune in to NPR at the right time and you'll be just as pleased with your experience. 

Fun Weekend With a Nearly Sticky End

Paaaarty!

Ed and I returned late Sunday night from a very nice weekend in San Antonio. One of my best friends, Marion, lives there now, as do many of Ed's family members and friends, and I was excited to catch up with so many people with just one trip. We arrived late on Thursday night and went for an abysmal run first thing Friday morning (planes and late nights do not make for enjoyable running, but I had to get in the distance), and with that out of the way the fun began.  I spent the rest of Friday hanging out with Marion. We went out for Mexican food and strong margaritas, then did the kind of girly stuff we haven't gotten to do together in a long time,like getting pedicures and going shopping. I really enjoyed seeing her beautiful house and meeting her wonderful boyfriend Kent for the first time. In the evening, the three of us drove to a restaurant where Ed's mother generously hosted a dinner for his family and friends. The food was great, it was really nice to have everybody in one place.
We started Saturday morning with something that was a real treat for me: a two-year-old's birthday party. Ed's friend, Mike, has a spunky, adorable daughter named Josie, and we were invited to be a part of her birthday celebration. Even before the party, I had a great time going to the children's section of the bookstore and agonizing over which book to buy her. I ended up selecting a Richard Scarry collection. Josie's parents planned a paint party for her. Ed and I enjoyed watching adorable toddlers running around the backyard, getting paint on their canvases, smocks, and faces while their parents chased after them, intercepting plunges into the pool, wiping chocolate frosting off noses, and chatting pleasantly with us all the while. The rest of Saturday was relaxing and went by much too quickly. Ed and I, along with our host and Ed's good friend Marko, joined Ed's mother for brunch on Sunday morning, and then Ed and I had just enough time to investigate San Antonio's Sunken Garden before we had to go to the airport. 

The Sunken Garden

Here, our pleasant weekend hit a snag. Once the plane was fully loaded, the pilot announced there was mechanical problem and that the flight would be at least a little bit delayed. Ten minutes later, he told us that the flight would be very delayed and possibly cancelled. Over the din of passengers groaning all around us, Ed called his cousin for advice. Sandy is a travel agent and had booked our tickets for the trip. He did a bit of investigating on his end and found that the next flight to Atlanta, where we had a connection, had only a few empty seats left. He advised that Ed try to get off the plane and get us spots on that flight ASAP, before it filled up. A missed connection in Atlanta meant we wouldn't be getting home that night. Ed collected our boarding passes and went to speak to the stewardess; our hopes that she would let him get off plane were not high, but we figured it was worth a try. Then we got lucky. While Ed was chatting with the stewardess right in front of the door, the captain came back on the PA and announced that everyone had to get off the plane because it was going to the hangar for repairs. The flight would not take up for another three hours. I strained to look over the heads of the grumbling passengers to see the stewardess practically pushing Ed toward the plane door in an effort to get him off the plane and to the customer service desk as quickly as possible (which was really rather nice of her). I met his eye and waved him on frantically. By the time I made it off the plane, lugging my backpack, Ed's computer bag, and both of our carry-on suitcases, Ed had secured seats on the next flight to Atlanta. We passed an unbelievably long line of people from our plane who were waiting to rebook their own flights as we walked to our new gate. Our departure from Atlanta was delayed too, but only by about 20 minutes, we made it back home without further incident.

I love living in New York City and it's good to be back, but going to a different place can be a welcome change of pace sometimes. I very much enjoyed my weekend in San Antonio and am looking forward to being back for Thanksgiving in exactly one month.

Training Update: Pace Calculation

In hopes of clarifying my pace goal, I think I just made things even more complicated.

First, let me share two techniques for pace calculation that have lots of supporters: the McMillan Calculator and the Yasso 800s set. The McMillan Calculator is the simpler of the two: just enter your most recent all-out race time for any distance, select the race you want to do next, and it will calculate what your time will be. So, according to the calculator, if I ran a 27-minute 5K, the calculator tells me that it's reasonable to expect I'd run 4:23:00 marathon. It even tells me that, to do this, I'd need to run each mile in 10:02. The calculator really only works with an all-out effort, though, and I can't remember the last time I raced that way. For the last year or so, when I haven't been too busy falling in the middle of the course, I've tended to enjoy races and not pushed myself to the limit. Not only that, but my last few races were back in early summer, long before I got into the shape I'm in now, so they wouldn't be accurate predictors even if I had run harder. This weekend I plan to do an all-out 10K on my own (or maybe I can convince Ed to come with me and jeer at me to get me to go faster) to see what the calculator tells me. It won't count, technically, but it should give me some idea of where I stand.

The Yasso 800s are a bit more complicated. There is a (hotly debated) theory that the rate at which you can run ten 800-meter intervals in a row corresponds directly with how fast you can run a marathon. So if I were to run ten of them at an average pace of 3:30 (three minutes and thirty seconds), that means I can run a marathon in 3:30:00 (three hours and thirty minutes). Sounds kind of crazy, but several runners I really respect have independently recommended this technique to me. If you use the Yasso set as a training regimen, you're supposed to start off with four 800-meter intervals at your goal time, then add another interval each week until you get to ten. Last night, I used it as a diagnostic, though, and ran all ten. My results were:

3:27
3:26
3:28
3:27
3:27
3:30 (d'oh!)
3:26
3:28
3:25
3:23

Average time: 3:26.70

According to Mr. Yasso, this translates to a marathon of three hours and twenty-seven minutes (I rounded up). I'd love to think I could run one that fast, but it seems to be a bit of a reach. Then again, a lot of runners swear by this method. And I'm not one of those who's better with the short distances - quite the opposite, in fact. Surprisingly, there seems to be very little on the good old Interweb about whether this is a legitimate predictor. (As a public service, I will definitely post about this after my marathon.)

Regardless of whether the set ends up predicting my time, it was a killer workout that has caused me to feel both very accomplished and rather sore today. And there was lots of near-vomiting during the run (stupid lactic acid), though I'm happy to say I held it all in. Ten fast 800s is not a set for the faint of heart, but I think I got a lot out of it, physically at the very least.

So instead of feeling more confident about what pace I should shoot for, I feel even more confused. No matter what my 800 set told me, though, I will not be setting out at the kind of pace I'd need to run a 3:27:00 marathon. I'm better off playing it safe early on and then picking things up, if I can, 18 to 20 miles in.

Pass the Tiger Balm, please.

Training Update: Last Long Run

Taper is here!

On Saturday, I did my last 20-miler, and now have only one 13-miler this weekend and a 10-miler next weekend standing between me and The Big Race! (There will be some short runs in between those, obviously, but as far as long stuff I'm done.)

Several months ago, I set target paces for my training runs based on my very ambitious goal time, and according to the plan I was supposed to hold a pace of 8:40 per mile on Saturday. Considering that I was supposed to aim for something like 8:54-minute miles during my last 20-miler two weeks ago, this seemed like a fairly big jump in pace. I figured I'd probably struggle. On the contrary, my watch kept telling me my splits were fast but I felt so good I decided to just go with it. I finished the run with an average mile time of 8:29!

For non-runners: 11 seconds per mile doesn't sound like a lot, but for a long run it's certainly the kind of difference in speed that gives one pause. I'm pleased, and a little mystified, that I managed to be so far ahead of my goal, and so comfortably at that. Now the big question is what this means for my race. I've reached out to some knowledgeable friends and will probably do some other research to try to get at the answer. Should I speed up my race pace or not? It's a tricky situation. If I do, I risk running out of steam before the finish line. If I don't, I could always pick up the pace when there are only a few miles left to go if I'm feeling up to it. But what if I finish with some reserves left, knowing that I could have finished with a faster time if I'd started my final kick sooner?

Lots to think about, and I look forward to letting my mind race instead of my legs as I start my favorite part of training: the lightening of training.

A Note From the Frozen North

The mercury has dipped down only to 59, but I'm sitting in my office blasting my space heater and drinking hot tea. Down the hall, my office manager doesn't have a space heater, so he's wearing a stocking cap and coat as he types away. What gives? Welcome to New York on the cusp.

Not so bad inside

Most buildings in my fair city are pretty old. Unlike other places I've lived, this means they were built before central climate control existed. There's no space in ceilings and walls to accommodate the ducts that channel heated or cooled air through vents into rooms, and so we resort to other measures. In the summer, nearly everyone has "window units." These noisy machines perch in windows, and this is a testament to how hot it can get in New York; no one would sacrifice one of their scarce, precious windows without good reason. Inside the room, they are flush with the wall, but outside they stick out of the side of the building and have to be propped up on little platforms. They blast cool air into the room and drip water that collects on the cooling mechanisms onto the sidewalks below. Surprised tourists will often look for rain clouds when they are hit with the drops. Experienced city walkers don't hug the sides of buildings too closely in summer. Even though it's just condensed water, something about drops emanating from machines on the side of buildings feels inexplicably gross.

Air conditioning units in every window

In winter, our heat comes from radiators that sit against walls of our rooms. Again, this is a testament to how cold it gets here; giving up even a few inches of limited floor space is a major concession. When cheap apartments, like the one I lived in a few years ago, are repainted between residents, the radiators are always painted, too. No one bothers to strip the old stuff away first, and the result is radiators with contours softened by layers and layers and layers of paint. I learned the hard way that a radiator does not make a good shelf; my modem was virtually melted a few years ago when mine kicked on unexpectedly. (It was awesome for keeping a cup of tea warm, though.) Ever get dry skin from the hot air blasting through your heating vents? Not a problem for New Yorkers. The radiators keep things pretty steamy; the windows in my old apartment actually used to fog up. They tick and bang, but you start to associate those sounds with coziness after a while. The problem with radiators is that they can't really be controlled. Sure, you can turn yours off or open a window if it gets too hot. But since you never know when the boiler in the basement will fire up again, it's always a bit scary because you could be sitting in a pretty chilly apartment for hours before it starts to heat up again. Another problem is that building managers don't tend to fire boilers up for the first time until it's pretty cold out. So there is this weird period of limbo during which temperatures outside and inside have dropped but there's nothing you can do about it except bundle up and wait.

Currently, my office is in the midst of this limbo. I haven't noticed it as much at home, probably because we don't have nearly as many windows as there are at work. But I'm fairly confident we'll get there before the boiler makes its annual debut. And when it happens, Todd will rejoice. This is just about the only time of year I enjoy having the cats around. There is nothing like cuddling with the equivalent of a furry hot water bottle when you're waiting for the radiator to start ticking.

In summer, he is less appreciated.

Old Friends, Good Times

Dave and Alex

This weekend was a long-awaited one for me. Some dear college friends and I had planned a mini-reunion of sorts in which my friends Jimmy (and his very fun wife Kathryn) and Alex would come to New York. A few other familiar faces from Vanderbilt live in the city or nearby, so it promised to be a good time. And now that it is over, I think I can safely say that none of us is disappointed.

Alex, who lives in Austin now, arrived first, and Jimmy and Kathryn came from Louisville the day after. I couldn't take time off work, but I was able to sneak out to join them for lunch once, and of course we had the evening and the whole weekend, too. We did lots of bar-hopping and had dinner at several wonderful restaurants. We also met up with Dave, who befriended Alex during Alex's last visit to New York two years ago. They were fast friends the first time, and it was fun to see them clowning around together this time.

View of the park from Top of the Rock

Jimmy and Kathryn really wanted to go to the roof of Rockefeller Center, also known as Top of the Rock, so on Saturday we headed to midtown. It had rained the night before and was a bit misty, unfortunately, but I was excited to see the city from a high rooftop for the first time since my family ascended the Empire State Building when I was 18. We waited in line for tickets, then for the elevator, then security, then another elevator. The ride to the top was amazingly fast, and the elevator had a glass ceiling so we could watch the shaft above us shrinking as we rose. Then the doors opened and the first full glimpse of the city was a northward view, showcasing Central Park blazing through the center of Manhattan. We walked around the building, admiring the view on all sides, and then took an escalator up one more floor and still more stairs to get to the very top. We picked out famous buildings and bridges, and could even see the Statue of Liberty, a gauzy blip rising out of the river to the south. It was a really cool experience to see the whole, chaotic city spread peacefully below us.

Southern Manhattan and the Hudson River

After a quick stop in Times Square, we had a few beers in Hell's Kitchen and then made our way back to my apartment to relax before going out again that night. After dinner at a restaurant around the corner, we were off to Union Square to watch a show called Fuerza Bruta. I saw Fuerza Bruta about a year ago with my friend Jeremy and I had a feeling my friends would love it. It's a difficult thing to describe. The show is an hour long and there are no seats. You check your coats and bags, then you go stand in a large room with a cement floor surrounded by curtains. When the show starts, stagehands signal for the crowd to split down the middle and wheel a platform into the middle of the room. An actor appears on it, then others join him. There is no dialogue, just movement in time to loud music. Then that platform is wheeled away as the audience is ushered forward to watch dancing on a stage that has appeared at the front of the room. Then two women in long dresses swoop over the crowd on roped harnesses and perform a graceful chase around the ceiling. Later, a thick sheet of plastic descends from above and women slide around it in a pool of water. And...well, you get the idea. It's wholly unlike anything I'd ever seen before, and I was pretty sure it would be a unique experience for my visitors as well. The show was not everyone's cup of tea, as it turned out, but most of us really enjoyed it (even though my neck was sore the next morning) and we reconvened after it ended to go out on the town again.

Sadly, Jimmy and Kathryn had to go home Sunday afternoon, but Alex got to stay another night. We planned to make dinner and so headed to Eataly to shop. I had a feeling that Alex, who loves to cook, would enjoy walking around it and I was right; his eyes were huge as we admired the different counters and the fresh and packaged foods. Later that night, Dave, and our friend, Chris, and his fiancee Sarah joined us at our apartment for a delicious dinner, wine, and conversation and laughter that went a lot later than it should have on a Sunday night. It was a fantastic end to a really wonderful weekend that ended much too soon.

I hate having to say goodbye to these particular friends. It was tough to spend so much time getting to know them for four years only to have our group scatter around the country when we graduated. I'm lucky if I get to see most of them once a year. But Chris and Sarah are getting married in New York in April, and so this time when we said our goodbyes it was with the knowledge that we'd all be together again in just six months. It's longer than I'd like, but it felt easier than usual this time. There was also talk of Jimmy and Kathryn hosting a gathering of people during the Kentucky Derby in May. So there's always something to look forward to, and I can reminisce about how much fun we had this weekend in the meantime.

More on Motiv

Ed's office is up and running! Today is the eighth day that he and his new engineers have reported to work, and he's enormously pleased with them and what they have already been able to accomplish together. For more information about the engineers and to see pictures of them in their new office space, visit Ed's blog post about it here: http://motivengines.wordpress.com/2013/09/26/launching-the-design-of-the-mark-ii-engine/

Congratulations, Ed!