NorthFace Endurance Challenge - Bear Mountain, NY - 2013

There are many in the running community who love a good challenge and I am one of them. Last November, after finishing my second road 60K, I decided that the time had come to try a 50-miler. This also meant a move to the trails I kept hearing about on ultrarunning podcasts.

After a long search, I settled on the NorthFace Endurance Challenge at Bear Mountain, NY. With some reluctance. The website said it was OK for trail runners of every level, while at the same time rating it 5 out of  5 for difficulty. Race reports from previous years are filled with stories of horrific "spills". I wanted the challenge, but I also didn't want to try a trail that would be too hard for a beginner, fail miserably or even break something.

Then, on an impulse, I went ahead and signed up for their 50-miler. Initially. After doing some more reading and listening to my girlfriend Courtney's suggestions, I changed my signup to the marathon distance, which in addition to the classic 26.2 miles and the 5 out of 5 "technical trail", entails 4400 feet of climb and since what has gone up somehow has to come down, 4400 feet of descent. I planned to be safe and run what I could, hike when it got rough.

Pre-Race: The One Where We Drive to Bear Mountain and I Get Nervous

I was up at 4 the race morning. Even though Bear Mountain is only an hour away from the city and the race didn't start until 9, I made Courtney get up and out of the house by 5:30. What can I say, I am impatient when there is a race involved. On the way over, we watched the sunrise from the State Line Lookout, hunted for coffee (Diet Coke for Courtney) in a small town called Stony Point and still got to the park with plenty of time to spare. The mood was jolly on the yellow school bus that took us from the parking lot to the Start-Finish line: "50-milers, they are the crazy folk, we are just doing the marathon!" said someone.

Sunrise from State Line Lookout Park between NJ and NY

Waiting at the start line, my jovial mood turned to nervous. Everyone around me seemed to know what they were doing. They were fit, well equipped and ready to go. I, on the other hand, had slacked on my training (just one road 20-miler, no trail runs) and worn my new trail shoes for a grand total of three miles (I believe some of my friends were taking bets on the number of blisters I would get). Chewing on a couple of Clif Shot blocks offered from the race (my only breakfast that morning), I started to think I got myself into some real trouble this time.

Stage 1: The One Where We Meet The Trail
Distance: 3.9 miles

Background music: Are you ready for this? (Nope!)

Minutes rolled down and we were called to the start line. After a short speech by the Ultramarathon Man Dean Karnazes (I honestly don't remember what he said, nerves were running high) and a moment of silence for Boston, we headed out on our adventure! 

The first stage was short. 3.9 miles of warm-up. After a half mile or so of decent trail, it started to get rocky, yet still runnable. I had a few close calls with my ankles. They rolled the wrong way and gave me a scare. By the end of the stage they were all warmed up and loosened.

Small rocks!

Courtney was at the first aid station at my request, because I wasn't sure about my handheld water bottle. I usually don't run with one and I thought it might annoy me. Holding on to it seemed like an insignificant decision at the time, but had I left that bottle, this report would have been about my first DNF and the cute German-Shepherd dog that pulled me out of a ditch. 

Stage 2: The One Where We Lose The Trail and It Gets Hot
Distance: 4.7 miles

Background music: Ain't No Mountain High Enough 

After the Anthony Wayne stop, the hills started to get steeper, the rocks started to get bigger and the air started to get warmer. Oh yes, as if the trail wasn't enough, we also had the opportunity to test our heat adaptation and limits of dehydration. The day's high was a sunny 73F (23C). Ironically, the announcer at the start line was very enthusiastic about the warm weather. Apparently, the last race of the Endurance Challenge series last year was under heavy rain and it wasn't pleasant. Don't get me wrong, I am glad that it didn't rain. Those rocks were bad enough without our feet slipping all around. But some cloud cover would have been nice. Still though, my legs were fresh, the trail was exciting and I kept chugging along.

Big rocks!

Until, all of a sudden, the trail vanished! Another runner had gone the wrong way and was coming back. We looked around together for the markings and found the right trail. But the direction we were supposed to be heading didn't make sense. We were looking at a very steep stairway made of rocks. Apparently, "trail" sometimes means climbing down rocks. I put my hands on the ground, climbed down very carefully, hoping it won't get worse.

It got worse.

Stage 3: The One Where We Rock Climb and I Consider Dropping Out

Distance: 5.3 miles
Background music: Verdi - Requiem, Dies irae (just seemed appropriate)

A fellow runner who was familiar with the trail said Stage 3 would be bad. She wasn't lying. After a few miles of semi-decent rocky terrain and small hills, the trail headed upwards again. I kept reminding myself that the second half is downhill. "Just get over this part and you are done". But the climbs just wouldn't end. The highlight was when we climbed up a rock formation to the West Mountain Shelter and then down on the other side. The view was phenomenal, but going up and down that thing on cramping legs was a bit scary.

West Mountain Shelter

My eyes were glued to my watch during this whole stage. I was counting down to the halfway point (13.1) and then to the next aid station (13.9). I passed 13.1 in a bit over 3 hours (for comparison, my road half marathon PB is about 2 hours). I was starting to get mentally tired from the need for constant concentration on the trail. On the road it is easy to forget you are running and look around, enjoy the view. On this race I had to keep my head down all the time so that I didn't land on a rock in a bad way or took a tumble down a hill. The upside is I didn't need music to occupy my mind. Downside, I got a pretty bad sunburn on the back of my neck.

As for my physical status; my legs were cramping, my core was banged up from all that running and hiking on uneven ground, my water bottle was empty and I was dehydrated.

13.2... 13.3... 13.4... OK, only half a mile... Let's run a bit. ANOTHER HILL!!!!
13.5... 13.6... 13.7... Weird, I am pretty close to the aid station, but I don't hear anything.
13.8... 13.9... Is it behind this turn? Why can't I hear them! Is there even an aid station?

There was no aid station at Mile 13.9, where I was expecting it to be. Neither at 14 nor at 14.1. I asked a hiker coming my way "Is there an aid station back there?", "Not until the road" he said, crushing me further. And then came one more hill.

That was the breaking moment for me. In the middle of that hill. Too far from civilization, an unknown distance from the next aid station, completely out of water and severely dehydrated. I leaned on a tree. I looked back, there was another runner struggling on the bottom of the hill. No one else. I didn't have the strength to go up. If you get out of breath while running, you can slow down. What do you do if you can't even walk? I couldn't drop out of the race even if I wanted to. I had to get to the aid station. Can they even carry me out of here?

Slowly, I managed to pull myself up and over that hill. I first heard the road and then saw a volunteer pointing towards the aid station. My watch was showing 14.55, actual mileage was 13.9. My Garmin, which had been dead accurate until that moment was lying to me! I didn't care. I just wanted water.

Stage 4: The One Where I Make Friends and Learn Downhill Can Hurt As Well
Distance: 7.0 miles
Background music: I'll Be There For You

I binged at the third aid station. Water, electrolytes, boiling Pepsi. Whatever they had, I consumed. Courtney already thinks I am a ferocious eating machine, good thing she didn't see this little display. As a result, my stomach was very unhappy starting Stage 4. This meant I had to walk the beautifully runnable (sprintable even!) downhill asphalt section. About half a mile into the stage I was still thinking about heading back and dropping out. I also started to worry about time. The race had an 8 hour cut-off, which comes to about 18 min/mile pace. Not a problem under normal conditions, but my average speed was dropping fast in the uphills. I really wanted my "finisher" medal and I didn't know if I would get one if I missed the cut-off!

Had to take a picture of this!

Then things got slightly better for the first time. Downhills started to follow uphills. Still rocky and painful, but at least not as depleting. My blood sugar started to normalize. I caught up to some other runners and we formed a little pack on the single track trail. It is amazing how helpful a pair of running buddies can be. As the trail conditions got better, I was able to walk my regular 13-14 min/miles and even run for short stretches. I started to gain on the 8 hour cut-off. My worries of missing the medal started to disappear. I didn't want to push too far though, because I didn't know how much I needed to save for the last stage.

First aid station doubled as the fourth aid station. It was right by the parking lot, so there were people cheering us on. I jogged into the aid station as if I was killing it.

Stage 5: The One Where We Celebrate, Prematurely!
Distance: 5.3 miles

Background music: Sloop John B (mostly the "I wanna go home!" part of it)

Starting the last stage I was pretty sure that I would get back home under 8 hours. It was a short segment, I had a lot of spare time and the course guidebook made it sound like a piece o' cake. I had been fooled before, so I asked a volunteer before heading out: "How bad is it after here?". She said "I know it is 5 miles and hopefully you will get some shade in there, but I don't know about the trail conditions." That should have been my clue.

The last stage started with a climb again. I was feeling somewhat better, so I tried to run as much as I could. I caught up to some runners I had been seeing all day. We finally exchanged names and ran in a little pack for a while. They pulled away, I joined two other runners who caught up to me. The stage wasn't easy at all. Yes, it "trended" downhill after a decent climb, as promised, but those sections were still pretty rocky.

As we approached the finish, I started to get impatient. A hill, another one, some more rocks, scary downhill.. Are we there yet? I intended to finish the race with the other two runners I was walking with, but I involuntarily started to speed up and drift away from them. Finally, I overheard a pacer yell to his 50-mile runner: "You see that tunnel bro, it is right after that". I saw the tunnel, I started running. I didn't have much at that point, but I got myself up to a slow trot.

As promised, the finish line was looking at me after the tunnel. The final 100-yards on grass felt like heaven. I passed the finish line with a huge grin at 7:50:59.

Got my medal!!!

Post-Race: The One With Recovery and Reminiscence

There were two kinds of people at the finish line: The supporters and the waddlers. It was quite a funny sight actually. These people trying to go from recovery area to bag check, from bag check to food court, from food court to beer garden like a bunch of warm weather penguins with medals around their neck.

After I recovered a bit, we got back on the bus. Common opinions were "rocks suck" and "never again". When I mentioned to the lady next to me that for the first time I considered dropping out of a race she said "I've done 33 marathons, 5 Ironmans and this was the one (the 50K race) that almost broke me. I tried to drop out at mile 25, but the guy just wouldn't let me!". Yet 2 mintues later we were once again discussing what race to run next.

We were staying at the race headquarter hotel. When we got there the receptionist asked if we were coming from the race. I said "yes!". She asked if I was running again tomorrow. I smiled. That evening and the next morning we saw many runners waddling around the hotel. Each time we gave each other a knowing smile and asked: "So, which one did you run?".

Epilogue:
Now that about a week has passed, my legs mostly healed and my blister is gone (yep, only a single blister!), it is time to answer a question that is often asked: Why? Well, why does anyone do anything? Because I like it. I like the challenge. I don't like the pain, but I like the sense of accomplishment at the end of the pain. I like that I faced complete depletion and found the strength to go on. I like that for those few hours, I had no other problems in life, nothing else mattered. I like being with other runners, I like the camaraderie. And finally, to quote another runner, I like that "It was just a bad-ass thing to do!".

Sometimes you just have to run.

I don't have much to say about Boston really. Everything has been said and I have nothing to add.

In response to all the madness, NYC running community and runners everywhere did what we do best. We went out and ran. 

The run I joined was NYRR's "Run For The Parks" 4-miler. Most of the 6000 or so runners were wearing their "I Run For Boston" T-shirts and bibs, prepared in the week following the Boston Marathon. Moment of silence was followed by the National Anthem, sang by a transplant from Boston to NY. She was clearly very emotional and had a hard time finishing, but she did and got a grand round of cheer from the crowd. Then we went off, with "Sweet Caroline", of course.

Marathons and running in general has been on the news for all the wrong reasons lately. I hope we can get back to normal soon.

If you would like to help those, who were affected by the bombings, here's how:

- You can donate directly to The One Fund Boston.

- You can buy an "I Run For Boston" T-shirt from NYRR.

- And of course go out and run!

I Run For Boston tech T-shirt.

4 miles in Brooklyn

I am not a big fan of short races. 1-milers, 5Ks, 4-milers, even 10Ks. Going into one of these I know that I will go out too fast and will finish gasping for air. Saturday's Al Gordon Classic in Brooklyn's Prospect Park wasn't different.

Why, one might ask, have I signed up for a 4-miler, if I hate them so much. Because I missed racing, OK? I only ran a few races last year, because I didn't have to do the 9+1. However, a few hours after watching the Manhattan Half this January, I was browsing the NYRR site looking for a race. Al Gordon Classic was the earliest available.

I had run in Prospect Park only once before this race. It is smaller than Central Park, but still provides a 4-mile course without any repeats or out and back sections. Prospect course is definitely the easier of the two. The only major hill is not even comparable to the Cat Hill, which you have to climb in Central Park 4-milers.

As the race day approached, I started to worry about my lack of speed. I haven't done any consistent training lately, let alone tempo or speedwork. Whatever training I did was geared towards long steady running for ultra distances. I am also somewhat heavier now than 2 years ago, when I ran my 4-mile PR. After a battle between my ego and common sense, I decided to try for 35 minutes.

It felt great to be at the start line again early Saturday morning. I was right there, with my people, the mid-packers! Of course my people were probably doing their training and the time that got me in there was two years old, but who cares, I was there!

As the gun went off (the airhorn to be more precise) and we poured onto the road I once again remembered why I didn't like short races. The huffing and the puffing started way early this time. I got into the flow, wondering if I could keep up. To my disappointment, Prospect Park turned out to be a bit tougher than I remembered. There are some rolling hills that give you a bit of trouble. Still though, I was able to manage a decent pace (actually I tried but failed to slow down) and come in about 10 seconds under my targeted 35 minutes.

If you are a lapsed-racer like I was, I recommend signing up for a race. It is a great motivational tool. Also, it is great to measure your current ability and structure your training. Follow this link for a calculator that will give you estimated times for other distances as well as suggested training paces.

What does "different" mean anyway?

Your traditional scientific article title is pretty drab. Simply a jumble of big words and strange acronyms to anyone outside the target audience. Yet every now and then you get a good one. Like this paper from Germany, which proudly claims that “Ultra-Marathon Runners Are Different”

Freund W, Weber F, Billich C, Birklein F, Breimhorst M, & Schuetz UH (2013). Ultra-Marathon Runners Are Different: Investigations into Pain Tolerance and Personality Traits of Participants of the TransEurope FootRace 2009. Pain practice : the official journal of World Institute of Pain PMID: 23368760

Didn’t we know that they were different? I am embarrassed to call myself an ultra-marathoner, since I have only done two road 60K’s, but my girlfriend has already labeled me “crazy”. And then there is Scott Jurek and Ellie Greenwood and Mike Morton and many many others. People who run a race that was intended for horses. People who run from the lowest point in the continental US to the highest. In mid-July! Yes, of course we knew they were different, but I guess it is good to have some scientific backing and define what “different” actually means.

To study the “different”, Dr. Freund and his colleagues picked a great recruitment spot: TransEurope Footrace. It is not an annual race and thus is not well known. It has been held in 2003, 2009 and 2012. This paper deals with 11 people who ran the 2009 version of the race, which consisted of 64 stages run over 64 days totaling 2789 miles (4487 km, it is a pretty big continent that Europe).

The researchers went for the obvious question first: "Is there a difference in pain tolerance between the runners and controls?" The way they tested this was by dipping the subjects' hands in a bucket full of ice water and asking them to rate the pain level every 10 seconds for 3 minutes. The runners reported less pain compared to controls. This seems like a straightforward experiment and a clean result. My only worry is that runners might have developed tolerance in their hands, because they are often exposed to harsh weather conditions. In other words, this result may not be due to a general tolerance to pain. Confirmation with an alternative method would have strengthened the conclusion (maybe a slap on the face? I don't know).

On the psychological end of things, the authors put the runners and the controls through a General Self-Efficacy Test (GSE) and Temperament and Character Inventory Test (TCI). Somewhat surprisingly, GSE didn't show any differences between runners and controls. People who score higher in this test are expected to overcome more challenging tasks. But again, just because the controls didn't run 2000+ miles, doesn't mean that they are slackers. They could very well be tackling tough issues in the non-exercise realm.

On the TCI test, the runners came out less cooperative, which is something I have a hard time believing. Everything I heard so far about ultra-runners point in the opposite direction. Runners scored higher in self-transcendence and self-forgetfulness categories, which is understandable.

All in all, this paper suffers from having a small number of subjects and a limited number of tests. I do understand though. Finding subjects for this kind of work can't be easy. Neither would it be easy to convince them to sacrifice their running time to go through tests.

Despite my joking early on, I do think these folks need to be studied. They clearly exhibit certain characteristics at the extreme. Maybe not all, but at least a few of these characteristics, like perseverance and adaptability, are highly desirable. Understanding what makes ultra-runners tick at a more detailed, even at a molecular level, would help us regular humans develop these skills.

Why you should run a marathon

photo by Martineric on Flickr

Let me open with this: I am in no way saying that you have to run a marathon.

There are many good reasons not to run a marathon. Health definitely tops the list. Get checked if you are not sure about your heart (even if you are, a check-up can’t hurt). Or if you know that any part of your body can’t take the stress. Your knees, your feet, your back, anything. Make sure everything is in good condition. Lack of time is also common, but be honest with this one. Do you really not have time due to your work, family and life obligations or is training going to cut into your TV time. Finally, some people don’t have access to a safe and decent running area. I know that there are those who train for long distance races on treadmills, but that just isn’t the same.

However, if you think running a marathon is crazy, but can’t come up with a credible reason, let me make the case for targeting and finishing a marathon:

It’s a cheap hobby: The largest item on your bill is going to be the signup fee. Especially if you are going for one of the majors (NYC, Boston, Chicago, Berlin, London, and now Tokyo). You pay more than $300 for the privilege of running 26 miles in one of these cities. After that you will probably spend $200-300 for shoes and clothing (for boys shirts are optional, but encouraged) and $100 or so for drinks and gels. All in, probably somewhere around $500-$600 in a year.

On the other hand, you will save on transportation, because you will be fitter and you will walk everywhere. Don’t snicker! Each round trip saves $5 in NYC.

It is not as hard as you think it is: The finishing rate in big city marathons hovers around 98-99%. In other words, if you get to the start line you will see the finish. So, you see, you can’t fail! Calm down and enjoy the ride.

OK, it is harder than I told you, but that is actually a good thing: I admit, I wasn’t completely truthful in the previous section. Getting to the start will not be as easy as I made it sound.  

Training for and racing a marathon will require you to run distances in the vicinity of what some might consider a complaint-worthy commute length. Spending that much time on foot will be a completely new experience for your body. You will eat and drink, yet you will feel depleted. Your legs will cramp, your joints will creak, your feet will blister and your stomach will say very bad things about you.

Yet you will keep going! Because your brain will learn to step up and take charge. It will learn to take things step by step, won’t get overwhelmed by the task ahead. It will learn to ignore some of the aches and pains, push you to your limits. It will learn that however depleted you feel now; after a 5 minute walk you will be good to go again.

So, not only your muscles, but also your brain will come out fitter from the marathon experience.

Camaraderie: I always feel a stronger fellowship at the start line of longer races. This in no way means that short distance runners are jerks. When I line up for a 5K or even a 10K, I feel like I am going to work. Do it efficiently, do it as fast as you can and get your bagel at the end. Starting a distance race is more like going on an adventure with friends.

Who knows maybe it is the immensity of the task. Maybe we are all scared and looking for buddies to get through it together. Or maybe it is like getting on a trans-ocean flight. You know you are going to be next to that guy for the next 10 hours, you might as well make friends. Bottom line, distance runners are a friendly bunch. During the race and during training.

Food: Think of your favorite food. A giant portion of it. Now imagine eating that after being hungry for a good while. And I am not talking skipping lunch and having snacks in between kind of hunger here. I am talking completely empty stomach, near zero blood sugar, slight dizziness, “I can eat a horse” kind. Sounds good, doesn’t it? And don’t worry, you can’t forget this part. Your brain will remind you a number of times between miles 10 and 20.

The medal: I know it is cheesy, but it is still fun. The mylar sheet isn’t bad either.

There you have it. Not “16 reasons” exactly, but I hope this was enough to convince you that running a marathon is not the craziest thing in the world. If you are already a runner, you can consider adding the marathon to this year’s calendar. You can be ready in 4 months. If you are not running currently, aim for something shorter and work your way up slowly. In the meantime think of the moment you will cross that finish line.

Let me know when you are done with this and I’ll tell you why you should run ultramarathons.

Race 4: A very delayed report of a very long race

2012 NYC Marathon medal with the
2012 NYC 60K finisher plaque.

I was in Central Park the morning of Saturday, November the 17th to end an eventful Fall running season with the newly renamed NYRR NYC 60K. It was Knickerbocker 60K before.

A regular NYRR race is capped at around 4000 runners, but the 60K accepts only 500. Still, in previous years there used to be room until race day. I guess it is hard to find 500 people willing to run 9 laps around Central Park on a cold November day, even in a running-crazed town like NYC. Not so much this year though. The race was sold out before November 17th.

I picked up my number and made my way into the Park through the Engineer's Gate. After waiting in the port-a-potty line for about 10-15 minutes I finally dared to take off my warm clothes, check my bag and line up at the start. While joking with the other runners about the freezing weather ("It is only in your head!"), I saw a smallish blond lady make her way through the group: Mary Wittenberg. The CEO of NYRR was on her morning run and as it is her habit, she was wishing good luck to the starters. She is definitely having a tough time right now. I hope she knows how much the NY running community appreciates her work.

Minutes from the start I noticed a gentleman behind me. He was telling running stories to his two friends. Running stories from the times of the marathons in the Bronx, when NYRR was only a tiny group of crazies. I didn't know who he was, but I decided to stay near them. Later, one of his ultrarunner friends (I am sorry I couldn't catch your name, if you are reading this please let me know!) told me that the gentleman was actually Dave Obelkevich, the last remaining NYC Marathon streaker! Without knowing, I was running with true NYC Marathon royalty. They were going a bit fast for me; but hey, when you are running with a legend and listening to stories about Ted Corbitt, Joan Benoit Samuelson and the Comrades marathon (a must-run race according to Mr. Obelkevich) you can't complain about fatigue! In addition to Dave, I also got valuable tips from his friend, who had run three 100-milers, last one a few weeks before this race.

Unfortunately, I had to separate from them after the third lap to get my bag and supplies. I didn't ask Courtney to crew for me this time. Just like I was carrying running fatigue from the Run Anyway NYC Marathon two weeks before, Courtney was carrying crew fatigue.

On lap 4 Ashley and her friend joined me for a while. I was starting to pay for my earlier pace and lack of eating at this point. I tried to run with them a bit, but I had to walk the hills. After they left I was clearly bonking. The rest of the race was a struggle, with more and more walking. I kept eating to no avail. I kept joking with the volunteers and fellow runners here and there to keep my mind occupied. Courtney came with much needed coffee at lap 8.

I finished at 7:32. 17 minutes slower than my time last year. I don't think the reason was the fatigue from the Marathon. I should have done a better job eating. Moving into ultras that is definitely my biggest challenge. You can get through a marathon eating gels and drinking Gatorade, but it just doesn't work beyond that.

I unfortunately couldn't walk home after this race. I had a nasty blister under my foot, which made me limp for a few days and caused some stress on my leg later on. Still, I am glad to report that I have finished the season without an injury. Two weeks after the race I am ready to go again.

On that note, I have picked my next race and signed up for it. I will be running the Bear Mountain North Face Endurance Challenge in May. I was going to do the 50-miler, but then I read about how technical the trail is and backed down to marathon distance. It still entails 4000 feet of climb and descent on a technical trail and it will surely be a challenge. Training starts this weekend!

Race 3: NYC Marathon or something like that

What a week it has been.

It was scheduled to be a full week. I had a decent amount of work coming my way and then there was the countdown to the Marathon. Watching every news release, waiting for the expo, finalizing pacing plans.

Then came Sandy. I was in New York City during Hurricane Irene last year, but this was something else. Fortunately, we live in the northern half of Manhattan and we didn't experience any damage unlike the southern half of the island and the outer boroughs.

East River washing onto the pedestrian path
and then onto the FDR

The super-storm, as they were calling it, complicated the matters immensely for the NYC Marathon organizers. It was on for a while, then it was off at the last minute. It couldn't have been an easy decision. Runners, officials and even NY Times was conflicted. First publishing a strongly worded opinion piece basically saying "Stop this marathon now!" and following it with an article listing all the downsides once the race got cancelled.

At the end cancellation turned out to be the right decision. The NYC Marathon is a very special event. Not only for the participants, but also for the city. If you have seen it live, you know what I mean. Every year the whole city comes out to celebrate and cheer for the runners. However, in the light of the news coming from Staten Island and other parts of the region, the Marathon was going to be a dreadful chore instead of a joyous event.

I won't lie, I was disappointed when I heard the news about the cancellation. Like everyone else, I had been preparing for this day physically and mentally for a while. If you count the qualification process, my journey to the NYC Marathon took about 2 years (which you can read about in the archives of this blog by the way).

I moved on quickly though. About 30 seconds later, I had already gone through the five stages of grief and made up my mind: "I will run the old course". For those of you not familiar with the history of the NYC Marathon, Central Park is where it all started. In 1970 Fred Lebow convinced his running buddies, who until then were running in the Bronx, to bring the Marathon downtown and run 4 laps around the Park. The five borough Marathons didn't start until 1976.

Dressed to run

I had a suspicion others would come up with the same idea. A web search later that night (Friday) returned a Facebook group: Run Anyway NYC Marathon. Founded by Lånce Sven, the group quickly settled on meeting at the original finish line at 8AM with donations and get running at 9.

Saturday I went to the Expo, not sure what to expect. A marathon expo without a marathon. Kinda like a zombie. I was glad to find out that I could still get my number and my shirt (by the way, if you didn't get your number, looks like they will send it to you). Also, everything was 50% off at the ASICS store, with all the proceeds going to the victims of the storm. I got some cold weather running gear I needed, all branded with the ING NYC Marathon 2012 logo. Unfortunately, I won't be able to wear the running sweater I bought, because my girlfriend has decided that it is too nice to be worn for running.

Walking to the Park Sunday morning I was expecting to see a couple hundred people at most. Who on Earth gets out of their bed on a cold Sunday morning to run a cancelled marathon. Boy, was I wrong! 

There they were! All of them! On my way to the old finish/new start line a dozen Italians ran by me. The French passed in a huge group, cheered on by the crowd filling the bleachers. The Germans were there in their three colored cowboy hats. New Zealanders, Australians and South Africans traveled from far far away; Chileans, Colombians, Mexicans had shorter flights. Belgians, Hungarians, British, Danish, Indonesians, Brazilians, Americans... Turks, all the way from my hometown of Istanbul. Name a country and someone was wearing its name on their shirt. Not to mention us New Yorkers, playing host and giving outsiders tips on battling the Harlem Hill. A couple thousand runners had taken over the Park in their orange shirts.

One of the start waves

I met my training partner and we joined one of the start waves (one of the earlier waves is shown in the video below). Turns out "Run Anyway" wasn't the only impromptu marathon in the Park that morning. Other groups organized their own runs. So, there was no way of telling who started when, running which way, what course, what pace. We were just runners, running. As the hours passed, spectators also started to trickle in. Some had signs and cowbells for motivation, while others came bearing Gatorade and water to cover the nutritional end. The Engineer's Gate became the finish line we passed again and again. The crowd moving onto the route from both sides, helping us reenact the last meters of the battle between Bill Rodgers and Frank Shorter.

No technical details on this report. Nothing about my pace, the hills I climbed or the gels I ingested. Hurricane Sandy damaged a lot in the Northeast USA last week and the NYC Marathon was one of them. A grand tradition became a point of dissension and eventually got canceled. Yet there were no angry faces, no frowns in the Park on Sunday. There was just an energized running community. Runners just running.

Finally, please help the victims of Hurricane Sandy. We are having another storm right now and there are still people who can't go back home. Here are two links for donations:

Crowdrise

Mayor's Fund

Thank you.

Me, finishing in a blur.

Race 2: Grete's Great Gallop - Half Marathon - Race Report

The NY running community was out in Central Park last Sunday morning to remember Grete Waitz, who passed away last year. The half marathon carrying her name was in support of her AKTIV foundation.

For some it was another half marathon, but for those of us training for the NYC Marathon, the Gallop was the last dress rehearsal. Moved to October 14th, just three weeks before the Marathon date, the Gallop coincided with the day of the final 20-miler in most training plans. So, me and my training partner opted to run some extra to complete the 20.

My life has a way of twisting unexpectedly and putting me in tough situations. Things can be running at their regular pace for months and the day before the race something comes up. So it was again. We were on a waiting list to move into a better unit in my apartment building and on Friday our number finally came up. We liked the apartment. The office asked me when I would like to move and I said "How about tomorrow?". Yes, I know, it is crazy, but trust me, I had my reasons. So, we ended up moving our apartment the day before a hard workout.

I knew I wouldn't be able to eat much after the move, because it would be too close to race time and thus cause stomach issues. I pre-fueled with a Le Pain Quotidien bread basket in the morning (seen below). Unfortunately, it wasn't enough. By the end of the day I was feeling depleted and a few hours later I was feeling extremely hungry. Still, I limited myself to some fruit and other snacks and decided to take as many gels I can to fuel during the race. I figured if I don't have anything in the liver or muscles, I would have to go with supplied fuel.

Le Pain Quotidien Bread Basket

I was still feeling tired the morning of the race. My legs didn't have that race morning excitement and my core area was sore from carrying all those boxes. Thankfully, we had a late start, so I did get enough sleep. I met my training partner at 9 for the pre-race workout. We ran about a loop of the Park (~5 miles, including the northern hills, excluding the south loop) at an easy pace, accelerating a bit towards the last miles and got to the start of the race. From this warm-up it was clear that this wasn't going to be a good race.

We targeted to start at marathon pace (10 min/mile) and speed up if necessary after that. I lost my training partner for a while in the crowded start. She caught up to me later at a water stop and told me she was going to go slow, because she twisted her ankle. Bad luck. Thankfully she was fine and was able to finish the race, but we ended up running separately.

I charged ahead at the marathon pace feeling worse after every step. After mile 8 I started to throw in some walks to eat more gels and recover. I went through the last 5 miles running at 9:00-9:45 pace as far as I could and then walking to recover. That still kept me at the 10:00 average pace range.

According to my Garmin I finished the race at 10:05 average pace in 2:14:04. I ended up running 0.2 miles extra due to crowding. The finish time was a bit of a downer, but I am happy to have completed the last long training day at marathon pace, despite taking walking breaks.

And now we taper and wait for the race. I will leave you with this photo of a NYC bus decorated with a marathon banner. Sorry for the quality of the picture, I have a bad phone.

Up the bridge, down the bridge.

This weekend's training target was to familiarize ourselves with the Queensboro Bridge (aka Ed Koch Queensboro Bridge, aka 59th Street Bridge). I was looking for a generic bridge song to open the article and turns out Simon and Garfunkel actually have a song called 59th Street Bridge. Main message of the song? "Slow down, you move too fast". They are probably talking to a morning commuter, but it is pertinent to our case too. Let's first listen, then we'll talk training.

The Queensboro Bridge connects Queens to Manhattan and lies between 15th and 16th mile markers of the marathon. According to the official elevation chart, the bridge provides about 100 feet of climb in about 3 quarters of a mile. No spectators are allowed on the bridge, which makes the section uncharacteristically quiet. The bridge is widely known to be a breakpoint in the race. For example, the great Haile Gebrselassie dropped out of his last NYC Marathon right on this bridge.

The Queensboro Bridge from Manhattan

Even though I live nearby, I don't run the bridge, because it is a high traffic zone with lots of exhaust and the surface of the pedestrian area is not the best. However, this weekend we decided to make an exception and run the bridge to familiarize our legs and brains with the climb. Judging from the number of runners and groups on the walkway, a lot of other fellow marathoners had the same idea.

Going from Manhattan to Queens the climb is actually not too bad, but once you get to Queens, turn back and look up you see what the fuss is all about. The climb is not intense like the Harlem Hill, but it is long. Meaning, you have more time to think about how miserable the climb is and despair.

We did two roundtrips on the bridge. Unfortunately, not having listened to Simon and Garfunkel before the run, we were going a tad fast and I definitely felt it in the quads afterwards. To finish the run we got back to the Park and did mile 25 of the marathon there, from the Engineer's Gate to the Plaza Hotel. Then my training partner left and I struggled for another half of a lap. I acted stupidly and raced with some people going up the Harlem Hill. After that I decided to call it a day.

All in all, I think we won't have a problem with the Queensboro Bridge, if we just listen to Simon and Garfunkel while climbing and repeat their message: "Slow down you move too fast". And of course keep in mind what comes after the eery silence of the bridge: 1st Avenue and miles of cheering fans all the way to the finish line!

Bonk run

Last week I made the mistake of listening to the latest Marathon Talk episode that had Tim Noakes as a guest. In case you don't know him, Noakes is a well respected sports scientist and the author of The Lore of Running. I highly recommend that you listen to the episode, but the gist of what he had to say was that most people are not adapted to utilize carbs efficiently and thus we should limit our carb intake. His view on limiting carbs in general diet will surely be debated for a long time, but I think there is general agreeement on the benefits of adapting the body to utilize more fat during exercise instead carbs. Ultrarunner Lucho on Ask The Ultrarunner podcast said a few words about this. It is at the end of the show.

Since I was taking an easy week after a three weeks of long runs, I decided to go out on my long run on an empty stomach. I also didn't take any gels or gatorade with me. After an hour and a half and I was definitely feeling the depletion. I probably could have pushed a bit longer, but I decided to leave it for another week and cut my bonk run. I probably won't do another one until after my races, but in preparation for the next season I plan to slowly extend the duration of these runs.

Next week's training plan is to run the Queensboro Bridge a few times with my training partner. The bridge is considered to be a breaking point in the race and we decided to teach our legs not to quit on the climb.