Payton Jordan Invite

Stanford University,  The Ivy of the West.  I've always loved coming to this sprawling land grant campus with its palm trees, spanish colonial architecture, open spaces, and proximity to some of the coolest tech companies in the world (Google, Facebook, Lockheed Martin). This weekend, runners from all over the country and world are descending on the Angel Cobb track stadium for the dependably consistent weather and great fields at the Payton Jordan Invitational.

The 5000 is Sunday night at dusk.  I land at San Francisco International Airport around noon on Friday, giving myself plenty of time to relax and adjust before the race.  The BART train takes me to Millbrae for a transfer onto Caltrain, which takes me on nice ride down to Palo Alto.  Californians love to talk about their mundane travel arrangements so I thought I'd throw that in there.

I'm staying with a buddy on campus, which turns out to be an enormous asset.  I can jog to the track in about five minutes, eat at the dining hall, and pretend to be a Stanford student for the weekend.  I even have a bike to ride.  On Friday night my friend and I went with some of his buddies to see Michael Bay's new flick Pain and Gain with Mark Wahlberg and the Rock.  What a ridiculous movie.  It provided some inspiration for my race though -  Marky Mark has some good lines.  "My name is Daniel Lugo, and I believe in fitness." "be a doer, not a don't er."  It was a hilarious movie that you should see if you don't mind losing a few IQ points.

All this was a nice break from the typical experience I'm used to at meets.  Hotels make me mildly anxious because I can't help but associate them with races.  Being on a campus around libraries and sunbathing chicks makes me feel at home and coming into Sunday I'm feeling pretty good.

Race Day

Usually when I wake up on race day, the coming experience flashes though my thoughts, followed by an acute surge of nervousness and excitement.  I lay there on the air mattress on the floor of my friend's apartment, feeling the adrenaline course through my veins until it ebbs away.  There's no falling back asleep after that.  Now the body knows something big's about to hit it.  It's part of my preparation.

The 5000 entries for tonight are so deep that my 13:38 seed did not make the fast heat.  The Schumacher clan, Oregon Track club crew, World Cross Country sixth place finisher Ben True, and collegians Diego Estrada, Eric Jenkins and Maverick Darling headline a 5000 field that surely every American distance running fan is drooling over thanks to Flotrack's coverage.  Hanging around on the grass before my warm up I'm surrounded by the who's who of American distance running. (Derek Rubis, if you're reading this, I know you'd love being there)

I'm confident going into this race.  Workouts have been going very well, I've been healthy for a long time, and eight days ago I soloed a 3:44.1 1500 back in Austin.  I haven't raced much lately, especially over longer distances and I'm wondering what going past 3k will feel like.  But I push any questions I have out of my mind and get to the line focused.

Two laps in the pace has settled at 65 seconds per lap, right at 13:32 rhythm.  There's a rabbit leading Nouredine Smail of France and Mitch Goose of Iona.  I'm sitting third.  At the beginning of a 5k, tiny changes in pace are very obvious when the body is still fresh and perceptive.  Even a one second per lap change feels like a lot.  Over the third and fourth laps I feel the tempo slack ever so slightly, prompting Smail  to drop a 63 after we pass one mile in 4:21 and the rabbit steps off.  Goose lets a gap form and I quickly go around and get in Smail's wake as we pull away from the rest of the field.  Going with him is a gamble, but it's the only way of giving myself a chance to run fast.  On the homestretch Smail gestures for me to go around him and lead.  I decide to do so, partially since it's polite, and partially because I might be putting money in the bank for later when I'll need him.

Video of the Race

I lead for about 800 and with a look over my shoulder, Smail re-passes me.  This time I won't be starting another round of lead exchanges because as we approach the 3k, I'm starting to feel the hurt. I come though in 8:07 and pass two miles in 8:40 (technically a 3200 PR) slightly off of Smail, and from there I begin to slowly fade.  I'm quickly in no man's land (Luckily it's no man's land in front of the race and not behind it) and all I can think about is finishing.  In situations like this, runners either grind it out or they die really hard.  I say to myself, "you didn't come here for the first two miles, you came here for the last one."  I'm running 67 second laps, not on pace but not terrible.  You think about the weirdest things in that situation.  Whole wheat pancakes, volleyball nets, spanish class in 6th grade.  You don't hear anything.  The pain tries to suck your thoughts towards it like a tractor beam.  You go through pulses of focus and loss of focus.  I think about my form as it erodes, trying to switch backup systems on, finding anything I can in my legs and body.

Finally the bell is ringing and it's supper time.  I gather myself, consciously relaxing my face and hands, and take a few quick steps as I head into the final 400.  People told me I 'closed hard' after the race, but any kind of kick must have looked fast compared to my strugglefest coming into the bell.  The final 100 I'm hoping to God the rest of the field that I haven't seen for 2 miles isn't running me down as my elbows are flying everywhere, knees are knocking, and face is grimacing.  I cross the line in 13:40.04, the second fastest 5k time of my life, having run a 61 second final lap.

Back on Earth as I cool down, I sort out how I feel about the race and decide I'm pretty happy.  1. I'm very close to my PR 2. I'm proud of how hard I fought 3. It feels SO good to race again.  I realize that I absolutely want to race the five again this season.  The original plan was to switch focus to the 1500 if this race didn't produce 13:30, but I know that next time that last 2k will get done the way it needs to be done.  A hard race effort like this works wonders mentally and physically for the next go.  There's a rule I think every runner should follow: if you absolutely have a desire to race, race.  You never know when the next time you'll be able to comes around.  So next up it's the 5k at Oxy High Performance in L.A. in 17 days.

After the meet John Simons, an old high school rival who now runs for Minnesota and I hit up Pizza My Heart in downtown Palo Alto.  We had the right idea because as we sat eating some nice greasy pizza, what seemed like the whole meet patronized the place. (again Rubis, you would have loved it)  People asking each other how their races went, coaches bullshitting with each other, and the kids working the Sunday night late shift wondering why their place was suddenly so full - it just makes me love the running community.  It also remands me that I probably take the whole thing too seriously.  Nah.

Post Race Interview

Training Partners

Tuesday mornings begin early in our house.  Around six I groggily turn off my watch alarm as the traditional grind of the blender  comes from the kitchen.  'well, if you wasn't up yet, you is now' I mutter to myself.  Most of us like to get a morsel in our bellies before the workout.  The ignitor on the stove clicks, the microwave door opens and closes, and dishes collide on the drying rack.  We've got it down to a science: getting those last precious minutes of snooze time, eating, and driving to the track to warm up.  Hardly any words are spoken in our bleary eyed, grumpy state.  It's a familiar dance we perform every workout morning.  I usually try to nap in backseat of the car.

This particular Tuesday we are on the track, starting the first rep at 7:15.  There are several different workouts going on simultaneously.  The guys traveling to Mt. Sac are doing an easier tune up workout - some threshold cruise miles and 400s around 1500 rhythm.  There's a 5k type workout going on too: some 600s at 5k pace with just 200 'float' in between - a real grinder since the float is supposed to be at a decent pace.  There's also some 1500 guys doing 400s at pace.  I am alone for my workout: a threshold mile followed by a mile and 4 x 800 at 5k pace, and 4 x 200 at 1500 rhythm.

Just before everyone starts I look around and think, 'this is ironic.'  I'm about to bust my ass during a hard solo workout on the same track, at the same time, as two All Americans, the American collegiate record holder in the 1500, another 3:39 guy, and a 4:00 mile guy workout separately from me.  They all have to race in four days while I can afford a harder workout, but the separation has been a theme of late.  An unlucky combination of health issues and disparate race schedules has kept our dream team training group from fully collaborating for a workout this spring.  I don't help the cause, being somewhat of a nomadic wanderer; bouncing amongst workout genres in my pursuit of 1500 and 5000 Nirvana like a crazed jackrabbit.  But I've been hankering to take advantage of the talent we've assembled in Austin this year.

I clock my first mile at 4:52.  Generally I begin track workouts with a threshold mile or two.  It's a good way to ensure the quality of the warm up is high without taking away from the main workout too much.  As I taxi around into lane one, ready to take off for the interval mile, I gather myself, wishing I had someone to share the workout load with this morning.

The psychological benefit of running behind or next to someone is incredibly powerful.  It's the force that draws us to meets with high caliber fields.  It encourages us to coalesce into training groups.  It's why meet directors spend money on rabbits on the track and pacers in road races.  There's no questioning it - the perceived difficulty of distance running at a given intensity lessens slightly when someone is in your proximity.  The effect is a combination of instinctual, competitive, and emotional factors.  It's a consequence of human synergy released during collaboration and competition. In a workout, well matched training partners compete, though in moderation and never to their mutual detriment.

Everyone exists differently in the self imposed, cocoon like comfort zone that is a pack or pair of runners.  There are half steppers, hanger-oners, shoulder mongers, heel clippers, sitters, yo-yoers, abreasters, pace pushers, you-name-it-someone does it-ers.  (The worst are two-steppers)  Some prefer to feel the competitive advantage of being ahead - leading workouts and races.  Their patient foils enjoy leaving the mental work to others as they turn their brains off and follow.  When you take away the team aspect, the act of running itself is an individual sport, but even that definition blurs when you talk about using - or being used by - other runners.

As the workout progresses things are going well in the other groups.  The 5th year transfers are healthy and rounding into shape after a shaky indoor season.  The younger guys are working hard and getting stronger.  People seem relaxed running fast.  It's good to see everyone on the track instead of in the training room, even if our schedules don't match up perfectly right now workout wise.  I finish my last 800 of the morning and head in.  Soon, if everyone stays healthy, we will collaborate on a Tuesday morning.  After all, the best training partners I can ask for are right there in my kitchen, making oatmeal in the morning.

.    .    .    .    .    .    .    .

fast forward.  Post Mt. Sac 1500 in which Merber, Van Ackeran, McGregor run 3:41, 3:42, 3:44

text from me to Kyle Merber: 

Nice runnin tonight Kyle.  You're back!

Kyle: Lets workout together!

Fly me to the (California) Moon

Frank Sinatra mixes with the patter of rain pouring steadily on the back patio.  Merber's making his famous turkey burgers and the scent of cooking meat and blue cheese wafts into my room.  It's been smelling like this for what seems like hours, and I'm getting hungry.  Outside, thunder ambles across the sky, the first thunderstorm of the year rolling slowly over Austin.  Our house is an island, safe and cozy, the storm providing an excuse to just stay put.

A long day of work, alternating between using my legs and my brain.   A humid 52:24 ten mile marathon paced run in the rain and reluctant gray morning light, lost in thought and numbed by the familiar instinct of a faster tempo and the crunching of gravel underfoot.  Mind racing and heart pounding after a difficult exam an hour later.  More class, pages of notes, a set of 200s at mile pace on the track in the afternoon as the sun tries to break through the clouds.  It does, and in the humidity I sweat.

Texas Relays Jerry Thompson Mile.  I'm wearing #3.

Later as I cool down through campus, dark clouds threaten above the Texas capital building's glowing red bell tower and the smell of the imminent storm saturates the thick air.  Being at home in the evening, my legs up, listening to the rain and life of the house is enormously relaxing.  Nothing makes a runner happier than a period of solid training (except a great race) and sometimes that can erase the worries of the day.

My training philosophy since indoor nationals could be described as something like "base with workouts".  I'm doing summer-type mileage but maintaining the genre and intensity of 5k workouts characteristic of track season.  Many people here at Texas have identified me exclusively as a miler and act surprised when I tell them I'll be focusing on the 5000 this summer.  I can't blame them - my indoor season went in a direction away from the longer events because of how races and qualifying scenarios panned out.

My most recent race: 2nd to Chris Gowell in the Jerry Thompson Mile at the Texas Relays.

I've come to accept that I don't possess the "stupid speed" required for the end of championship 1500 races - the ability to throw on the afterburners and consistently close in 51-52 over the final lap and rake people in over the last 100m.  I do have a nice combination of strength and acceleration - and that's why I believe I'll have the most success in the longer distance.  That's not to say I won't be running any more 1500s - I have one scheduled for next weekend here at UT, and plan to tag along for the ride in May's Oxy High Performance 1500.  Maintaing legspeed while developing strength has been the name of the game throughout my career, and I won't be changing that system any time soon.

A newfound sense of freedom charges my running in the day to day and long term perspectives.  Without conference, regional, and national team obligations I'm now able to focus more on training and less on racing in the spring in preparation for the summer circuit, when I'm aiming for a later peak than usual.  I haven't changed many elements of my day to day routine, and being associated with Texas' program provides a huge boost.  I still feel very much a part of the team and that has helped the transition.

With a busy running and school schedule I make sure to set aside time to think about all this stuff, especially when the weather puts me in a contemplative mood.  The next big race for me will be the Payton Jordan 5000 at Stanford in 19 days.

Unattached

Still 500 meters from the finish and running near personal best mile pace, I surged around Arizona's Lawi Lalang, putting myself in the leader's position.  A half lap more and he re-passed me, annoyed at my nerve, erasing the move's effect and marking the energy it required as wasted and gone.  30 seconds  later as the bell rang the field slid past one by one, like a train I couldn't quite catch.  I struggled through the final lap, the wheels falling off, finishing seventh of eight in 4:02.  I missed the final by a spot.

Mile prelim heat one at NCAA indoor nationals was my final collegiate race.  I'll remember that maneuver for a long time, a reckless, unnecessary attempt to drop the field of seven other sub four milers at a pace already hot enough to be considered nowhere near tactical.  Make a move more than 300 meters from any finish line and you better have a second, albeit smaller one up your sleeve for later.  I didn't.  That's the taste in my mouth as I begin the transition into post collegiate running: a bitter knowledge that I went against instinct and everything I've learned the past five years.  A bad move.  Had I not made it and stayed behind Lawi, I believe I could have made the final.

Running behind Arizona's Lawi Lalang in mile preliminary
heat one at NCAA indoor nationals.
Photo courtesy John Simons

I didn't get the perfect, lollipop strewn outcome  I'd imagined for the end of indoor season.  Instead, things happened.  I never ran the 3000 I needed to and our DMR failed the test of Alex Wilson.  Now a new challenge awaits me: getting over that sense of dissatisfaction as I enter a totally new forum: the post collegiate running world.  There is no team.  No uniform.  No shoes or flights to meets, no hotels.  The convenience of collegiate competition with its abundance of top level events and athletes is gone.

The time has come to support my running through running.  There aren't millions of dollars to be had in the sport.   Doing this entails scraping out a living, working hard to make it until you do, and then working harder to keep it that way.  I have college loans to pay off, rent to pay, travel expenses.  There are a hundred other guys in the US trying to do the exact same thing, competing for the same attention from sponsors and fans.  Succeeding in that atmosphere requires a total buy in.  With engineering degrees expected from two very good schools and knowing I'd be economically better off working, the hardest part will be delaying that life for later.

I've always had a non-running career in mind throughout my time in school, knowing that eventually I'd be defined by something other than athletics.  Over the past year and a half as I've improved my track times, my plans for post school life have changed.  First I decided to use up my indoor eligibility, a move that greatly influenced my decision to pursue a Masters degree at Texas in the first place.  And now as I look from the bubble into the world of professional running, that option seems more and more tantalizing.  What I do after school was once pretty clear in my mind; now, like I've been telling many people, "it all depends on running." I don't expect to make running my life career, but who knows?  Another major breakthrough and it could be a possibility.

The most powerful weapon I carry is the knowledge that I absolutely want to know how good I can be.  How fast I can get.  I'm 23 - I have lots of time to develop my body and I couldn't imagine choosing this path if I didn't love to do it.  That conviction will drive me harder than any race purse or salary can.

For now I'll continue training in Austin under coach John Hayes.  Day to day, not a lot will change in the immediate future.   I'll focus on the 5000 this spring with the goal of making the finals at the US Championships at Drake in June.  I'll sprinkle a few 1500s throughout to stay race sharp.  I can't say exactly where I'll be or what I'll be doing this summer -  the plan unfolds as time goes on, but I'm hoping it involves some European racing.

The bottom line is simple.  Run fast, win races and opportunities will present themselves.  The memory of the mistake I made in that mile prelim will soon be one I amusedly recall.

Judgement Day

The day has finally come for the Alex Wilson Invitational to judge the quick and the dead.  No, Alex Wilson is not  the Lord Almighty and college distance medley teams are not (necessarily) souls capable of sin, but this chaotic last chance meet will almost singlehandedly decide the makeup of the DMR field lining up next Friday at Nationals in Fayetteville, Arkansas.

Tonight's DMR field will be split into 3 heats and judged.

The top twelve teams ranked by their season's best time will qualify.  Last year the 12th time was Oregon's 9:31.91, in 2011 it was Villanova's 9:33.50, and in 2010 it was Duke's 9:34.29.  There's a nice pattern going on there that parallels every other distance running event in the NCAA... it's getting more fastah.

The Texas distance medley relay has survived more than a month atop the NCAA performance list with our 9:31.82.  A time that would make the national meet every year since trilobites were around.  Week after week on Sunday I've hurriedly checked through results, breathing a sigh of relief when I know our time is once again safe.  But tonight I will be super nervous because we've chosen to experience Alex Wilson on our butts at home in front of the TV, pass the chips, please.  Yeah, we're taking a risk not going to improve our time.  But if it sticks - if less than twelve teams run 9:31.82 or better  tonight, we'll be some of the freshest fish in the field, not having raced and traveled the previous two weekends.

A team's decision to leave the DMR effort to last chance weekend is totally up to them, but I'm surprised more teams haven't gotten together and gone for it throughout the regular season.  It's not easy to get a relay team firing on all cylinders early, but the caliber of the mile is once again super high this year, meaning the legs are out there.  It all comes down to priorities.  Guys want their individual qualifying performances, so the DMR gets put on the back burner until this weekend.  Making for a crazy Notre Dame meet.  And it will be obnoxious.  Just look at the heat sheets... teams that certainly are ready to fast: Penn State, Oklahoma State, Oregon, Oklahoma, Princeton, Arkansas, Stanford, Wisconsin, Villanova, Indiana, Georgetown, and Kansas.  At this point, all us here at Texas can do is sit and watch the action unfold - and hope we come out alive.

A great breakdown of tonight's DMR by Flotrack

Big 12 Championships Pre Meet Thoughts

It's blizzarding here in Ames, where Iowa state is hosting the 2013 Big Twelve Indoor Track and Field Championships this weekend.  Being from Wisconsin, I'm supposed to be used to the cold and snow, but the Texas 'winter' has spoiled me and I've lost my supernatural powers.  So I'll just cower in my hotel room and blog alongside the obnoxiously noisy heater.  

I'm pretty sure the Oklahoma State team was eaten by the
Abominable Snowman, since they're not here yet.

The meet has been delayed a day because Oklahoma State's bus got stranded by winter storm Q in Topeka, Kansas.  Next time, OSU, try this new device for getting to faraway meets.  Jokes aside, the meet wouldn't be the same without the Cowboy's distance runners in the mix.  We want to win the team championship fair and square and it would be easier for us Longhorns to score points in the longer events without them here.  In that scenario a conference title wouldn't be as sweet.

This weekend is special for me since it's the last conference meet I get to run in as a collegiate.  Warming up on the track yesterday for my mile prelim tomorrow the day after tomorrow, I felt the buzz that surrounds a championship meet.  Teams nervously eye each other up.  Occasionally the tension is broken by old friends (or rivals) from high school reuniting and maybe jogging a lap together (There was a lot of schmoozing like that in the Ivy League.)  A certain mutual respect exists between track and field athletes, even in intensely competitive situations.  It's because everyone knows and appreciates the work the other has put in - since they have too.  That said, no one will be taking any step, jump, or throw lightly the next two days.  Some of the best athletes in the country and world are here competing, and they'll take advantage of the tiniest mistake you make.  It's exciting, it's stressful, I love it.

Before arriving at Texas in the fall, I didn't know how invested in the program or how loyal to the school and team I would become.  I felt like a mercenary, trained to kill (run) and hired out by a foreign entity.  I had built up so much love for Princeton and so many memories of running and living in New Jersey that there seemed little room for this totally new place in my heart.  I'm glad that my mindset has changed since.  I've run the metaphorical trails of Austin many times now.  I know where I'm going and how to get there.  And I've enjoyed the process because my team mates and coaches have made it easy to adjust.  That's really all I can ask for, except of course a conference title.

Quick Summary of the Situation:

The Big Twelve makes a good case for being the best distance running conference in the country this year.  Nationally, it has the second best 800 performance,  nine of the top 25 performances in the mile (all under four minutes), eight of the top 25 in the 3000, and four of the top 20 in the 5000 (including #1).  Kansas state is really strong in the field events and will be our main team competition.  Oklahoma won't be far behind with their strong middle distance/distance and good jumps athletes.  One advantage for us over Kansas State indoors is the number of middle distance/distance races contested - the 600y, 800, 1000, mile, 3k, and 5k all favor teams with good lungs.  Our distance unit needs to take advantage of that fact  by getting around the Oklahoma schools.  If we can do that, we'll be in good shape.

TexasSports Big Twelve Preview

Letsrun.com Preview

Live Results

What 9000?

I hope to keep blogging about the weekends events from an individual and team standpoint!

Smileage Addiction

Being a relatively injury resistant runner, (always knock on wood when you say something like that) I've had the ability to run "pretty high volume" (mileage per week) throughout my career.  Injury  proneness places a definite upper bound on volume depending on the person, but there's a gray area just underneath where an athlete is made or betrayed.  By themselves.

For me, volume has always been somewhat of a question mark - I'm still experimenting with how much feels best.  And when you try to isolate variables for results that take seasons and years to produce, the process is not simple.

Sometimes you just gotta do less, Pepiopi.

One problem with running high volume is that it can be addicting.  Finishing a 100+ smile week makes you feel badass when you write those three digits in your running log.  But when it comes time to reduce volume during race season, the heavy volume mindset can be difficult to get out of. There's a temptation to lose confidence in training while lowering mileage.  When you rely on confirmation of your fitness through training benchmarks like weekly mileage, the lengths of your long run, and paces you are able to sustain on hard runs, finding it in other ways can be difficult.

It was during my senior year at Princeton (2011 - 2012) that I really started taking advantage of my potential by being smarter with smileage.  During the summer prior to cross country, I trained hard at altitude in Park City, Utah, running hundred mile weeks beginning in late July.  During the season I ran three awful races, barely breaking 26:00 for 8k in each and finishing far back in the field.  I didn't change anything, believing that a breakthrough was around the corner.  It wasn't.  In late October, when we found that I was anemic, I finally gave my body a chance.  I took a few days off, began taking iron, and decided my mileage would not exceed 80 mpw for the rest of the season.

This is Smileage.

Some combination of the iron, the smileage, and most importantly the refreshed mindset I had after learning there was a reason for my struggles jump started my running.  Just three weeks after slugging through a 25:53 for 8k at the Princeton Invite, I ran a personal best 14:13 5000 in an intersquad time trial on the track, closing in 4:20 over the final mile.  Two weeks later, I won the IC4A meet at Van Cortlandt in the Bronx.   Although my health during the season forced me to watch from the sidelines in Terre Haute at nationals later that weekend, I was riding a huge wave of confidence and momentum into the new year.

I had a lot of fun during the next track season.  Non stop personal bests, tapping into speed in the 1500, breaking school and Ivy records, winning two Penn Relays wheels, qualifying for outdoor nationals and nearly the Olympic trials all indicated that I had figured something out.  The increased amount of iron in my diet probably played a substantial role, but being more savvy with when to train hard and when to recover is what I think really caused the breakthrough.

Nigel knows about volume

When it comes time, I let myself just run, doing what feels natural.  Lifting the burden of having to maintain a certain amount of smiles every day is enormously relieving.  I put the displaced effort into workouts and races, using distance runs for recovery more than for aerobic benefit, their purpose in the base phase.  I forget about mileage goals - the miles runs themselves and just add up appropriately.  I do everything with the singular goal of feeling good.

I think some people forget that the point of competitive running is racing.  They focus so intently on training that they eventually prefer it to competition, in the worst cases developing a fear of racing because they feel more in control while training.  The worst thing to do after a poor race performance is go home and amp up the volume or intensity in an attempt to 'get better'.  The instinct should be the opposite.  Amongst athletes who naturally harbor extremely hard work ethics and competitive tendencies, freshness is totally underrated.  Smile : )

The term "smileage" copyright Tommy D., 2009

Binary Sunset

Today I would like to share the most important movie scene of all time and why it relates precisely to what running means.  It is the binary sunset scene from Star Wars a New Hope.

Why is this the most important scene in all of cinematic history?  Luke Skywalker looks to the unknown, to the future, feeling he must leave the confines of sandy Tatooine to complete his destiny.  Yes, the eventual destruction of the Empire is the ultimate climactic event in the Star Wars saga, but it's this moment that touches me the most.  Luke.  Alone, full of teenage angst, energy, Hope.  (Now that I've proven that this is the number one moment in Star Wars, it follows by the triangle inequality that it's the best moment in cinematic history. Q.E.D.)

No girl who's read this far will ever talk to me again, so I may as well continue.  Runners face the unknown all the time.  We have some control over our destiny through training and experience, but a lot of the time we're making big sacrifices for goals that only might be reached.  We look out like Luke does from our current position, knowing we have the potential to end up in one of a million different places at the end of the season, the year, our running careers.  You have to have some kind of weird motivation that allows you to keep working hard knowing you could fail.  To be good, you must tip toe the line between injury and health.  You have to spend years and years doing it.

Most of the miles I run strengthen me physically.  But I'll never forget the lessons I've learned from the many miles I shouldn't have run, when I should've rested or run slower.  I value those just as much. A perfect training program doesn't exist because everyone is different:  the athlete is responsible for finding out who he or she is.  I've learned a lot.  Every time I set out on a run or a week or a season, I feel myself staring at the Binary Sunset, unsure of what's ahead.  But every time I'm just a little more prepared to handle it.

Learn from Han Solo: Distance running doesn't
have to be a lonely endeavor.

Six Mile Cutdowns

Had a great workout today.

We woke up to 50 degrees and a light rain.  (A day not unlike workout days back in New Jersey that I remember fondly)  Nothing and no one out there but the red wet track and twenty guys nervously jogging and stretching.  The Texas state capital and Austin skyline are just visible through the mist.  As I do strides during the warmup, I can see myself in long puddles of water that have filled the lanes.

I'm wearing a team issued baseball cap.  Usually I wear it backwards, but today it's forward to keep the rain out of my eyes.  The sound of my footfalls change as my Nike streak flats gradually saturate with water.  They eventually make a deep, mushy, squelching sound.

The workout is six mile repetitions, each run faster than the one before it by eight seconds.  Each mile is run starting every eight minutes, and everyone has a prescribed start time depending on their fitness.  The session is team oriented.  On several of the reps, all twenty of us run in a pack at once, as  many as four or five seconds separating the leader and the end of the line.

The 5:20 mile begins exactly at noon.  As I watch this and the next two groups, I'm anxious to begin.  I know this workout will be a game of anticipation: relatively manageable for the first three to four reps and quickly getting tough near the end.

Craig, Pat, and I on the fifth mile.

I come in with Pat McGregor on the 4:56 rep.  We use this one just to get the blood flowing.  Going on eight minutes yields just over three minutes of rest, a gratuitous amount at threshold pace.  I cross the line at 4:55.

By the end of the 4:48 rep my flats are properly soaked.  I'm glad I've worn half tights in these moist conditions: less chafing.  Looking down, little bits of track are stuck to my slicked down leg hairs.  They've been kicked up from runners ahead of me.  For the early reps I've chosen to hang quietly in the back, letting others practice leading and pack running.  I've run 4:47 for this mile.

Several guys begin their final mile on the 4:40 rep.  Mid way through, coach yells for them to move to the front, shaking up the pace a bit as others are tempted to follow.  I'm having fun encouraging the younger guys around me as they surge ahead to finish their workout.  I run this one in 4:39.

The fourth lap of the 4:32 rep brings the first signs of fatigue.  My hands and thighs are cold, but this doesn't seem to be affecting my running.  I've run 4:31.  During the recovery period, which by this point has increased to about three and a half minutes, I work on focusing up.  I'll feel the two second per lap decrease from 68 to 66 seconds much more than any of the others before.  66 seconds is familiar territory for me: for the past year it's been a staple interval pace.  Today I want to begin pushing my comfort zone faster than 66 seconds.  65 seconds per lap gets a 13:32 5k, good enough to qualify for the US Championships.  Just under 64 seconds per lap is knocking on the World Championships A standard of 13:15.

The group on the fifth rep is McGregor, Craig Lutz, Rory Tunningly and I.  I sense a slight slack in the pace on the second lap, and coming through 800 in 2:14, we'll need to negative split a little to make the time.  It's Craig's last rep, and that helps as he closes hard to finish.  I follow him around and cross the line in 4:23.  I keep running, going straight inside the field house for my spikes.  Lacing them up on the bench outside, I clear my mind and get ready for the sixth mile.  I've never broken 4:20 in practice before.

It's just McGregor and I now.  We come through 400 in 64, right on pace.  Pat speeds up, having decided to stop halfway.  Through 800 we're at 2:09, and even though I'm working harder and harder, I know the pace is slowing.  The third lap is the toughest part of this workout.  I focus on my breathing and form, trying to relax.  These are the moments that hone mid race instincts: the natural impulse to stay on pace, to close gaps.  At 1200 I see 3:15.  I'm three seconds slow but feel that I have some power left in my legs.  I don't want to race the final lap, but I'm prepared to build the final 300 to make up that time.  After taking a lap off, Pat comes back in ahead of me.  I'm grateful for the help.  The final 200 is tough but I make sure not to strain.  Guys cooling down on the infield are reminding me to pick my knees up, to get to the line.  I cross it, stopping my watch in 4:17.9 .

Pat and I finishing the final mile in 4:17

Workouts like today's mean big things for where I am and where I'm going.  It's only January 8th and most runners don't want to be in super shape right now.  But I feel strong.  Base strong.  This fitness isn't derived from a bunch of intervals I've done in the past three weeks.  It's the fitness accumulated over years of nearly uninterrupted training.  I believe I can only go up from here.

Friday is a mile at the Arkansas(#1) vs. Texas (#3) Duel.  It'll be a fun one.

First Race

BOOM: Everything indoor track hits me at once: the air, smell, light, and sound of people. With it comes an instinctual rush of adrenaline as we enter Indiana University's Indoor Track facility.  As I step in from the rain, having not set foot on one of these banked ovals in eight months, I think, wow, it's suddenly indoor season and it's time to race.

Ryan Dohner and I are entered in the small but stacked invitational section of the 5000 at the Hoosier Invitational, ready to open our indoor seasons for Texas a little earlier than usual.  We came here with the goal of running 13:45 or faster, a performance that should qualify us for the national meet in March.  The plan is to run a slightly cautious 66.5 per 400 for the first 3000 meters, then increase the pace to break 13:45 over the final 10 laps.  Leading the way would be two very capable rabbits in former Indiana runners Andrew Poore and Ben Hubers, and with Olympic trials 5th place finisher Ryan Hill of NC State and four freshly honored cross country All Americans in the field, the race was sure to produce some fast times.

Tonight is a bit of a cross roads for me: I haven't raced since my last time in a Princeton singlet on June 16th in a 1500 up in Indianapolis. I'm toeing the line knowing only what my workouts have been saying about my fitness.  I know that it was going to take some serious guts over the last 2k to muscle out a sub 13:50 clocking.  The outcome of this race will be plugged into the increasingly complex algorithm that determines the plan for me at Big Twelves and Nationals, and thus the way I'll train in the coming months.  Tonight is also my first time running as a Longhorn and that adds a bit of excitement to it all.

The smell of burnt sulfur still hangs in the air from the gun as we pass the start, one lap already complete, falling into a single file line behind Hubers and Poore.  Chasing after the two unattached rabbits are my teammate, myself, Lane Werley of UCLA, Zach Mayhew of Indiana, and Hill and Andrew Colley of NC State taking up the rear.  Passing the mile in 4:27, we maintain that order for 3k, running consistent 66.5 - 67 second laps.  I see 8:18 at 3k and do a self check as Hubers steps off, his task complete.  I'm feeling about normal for this point in the race.  But as Poore takes over and the pace increases slightly, I know it's time to focus as fatigue begins setting in.  Around 3600 the line of runners begins to string out.  200m later Hill passes me, followed shortly by Mayhew.  I'm beginning to tire, and with 1000 to go I've switched to survival mode - just get to the finish!  I run some unimpressive laps in no man's land and cross the line in 13:59.23 for fourth.  As is often the case towards the end of a race, I can't say much about the final 5 laps - I just don't remember them.  Maybe too much lactic acid in my brain?

In terms of the time goal, the result was a bit of a disappointment.  I wasn't able to race competitively with the field when the going got tough.  However, lots of positive things come from the effort.  Being in sub fourteen shape in December is pretty good in my book, especially for not having raced in a while.  It puts me within striking distance of my goals for the indoor season.  Getting the race in my legs is of course a workout too.  In that sense, I'm happy that I went for it.  Now I know exactly what kind of shape I'm in - my training will be more informed and I'll have a firm idea of what areas need work.

That's what running is - lots of work, chances to race, success, and failure.  Getting used to the entire process takes a long time, but I think that seeing the positives in every situation helps you get to where you want to be.

Race Video Here

Getting Ready for a 5k

We are now in Thanksgiving week!  In high school that meant trying not to eat too much on Thursday before Footlocker Regionals on Saturday, and in college it means a nice break week for everyone after the NCAA national meet.  This year, my Thanksgiving week is a little different.  I won't be eating half a pumpkin pie or lying on the couch watching football all day this weekend, and I won't be jogging around like I have the past several years.  Instead, I'm in the middle an intense training block, preparing for a hot 5k in Bloomington on December 7th.

After Diego Estrada famously got his indoor 5000 auto qualifying time last year (13:39.54) at the Hoosier Invite in Indiana, I think a few others have caught on to the great idea he had: extend your cross country fitness a few extra weeks (in this case, 20 days) and use it to get your 5k qualifying race out of the way.  I've heard rumors that top runners from Oklahoma State, Indiana, NC State and others will toe the line on December 7th to go for a time.  Unlike them, I didn't run cross country this season, but I'm planning on hitching a ride with the goal of running 13:45.  There isn't an auto time anymore; starting this year the NCAA will simply take the top 16 athletes in each event, but we figure the time required will wind up being about the same anyway, especially for the 5k, a slightly less popular event indoors.

If the race goes as planned, I'll have a more diverse set of options when it comes time to declare for the national meet.  My favorite indoor event is the 3000, but if things at other meets don't go as planned, I'll potentially have that 5000 time in my pocket.  It's a nice bit of insurance.

Doing some threshold work at camp Mabry in Austin, TX

Training hard for a meet in early December involves a delicate balance between getting prepared to race and making sure I save my legs for the spring and summer.  My ultimate goal of reaching peak fitness in July and August means my fall training has been strength based, but lately I've been doing some mixed workouts that additionally develop the anaerobic and speed systems.  A 7 mile tempo followed shortly by a 2k at 5k pace, or three sets of 3 x 800 with 1 minute rest at 5k pace w/ three minutes between sets are tough workouts that simulate the final minutes of a 5000.  Most runners don't do these kinds of workouts in the fall, but I'm not worried about overworking myself: I'm doing things my body has done before.

Most of all, I'm excited to finally pull on the Texas uniform, spike up, psych up, and roll around the track with a great field of athletes.  After all these years of being a runner, I've realized that it's really all about enjoying training and competing.  No need to be absolutely amazing every day: since that isn't sustainable.  It's about being good every day to become great.  I call this the "happiness theorem", and I could write a book about it, but I'll start with just a future blog...

By the way, I finally have a bio on the Texas athletics site, pretty excited about that.  Check it out here!

Home

Right now I'm sitting in the living room of our house here in Austin.  It's a lot quieter than usual, giving me time to reflect on some things.  Of the seven Longhorn runners living here, four have left for the NCAA cross country meet in Louisville this weekend, meaning we make up most of the #5 ranked Texas team that we'll field on Saturday.  Our crew in the house consists of four grad students and three younger guys.  Between us graduate students and sophomore transfer Blake Williams from UNC, our house alone diversifies the team in terms of home states, age, and running experience.  I bring some of the midwest to the table in my cooking and Milwaukee accent.   Kyle Merber's savvy driving reflects his New York City street habits.  Blake uses every chance he can to barbecue any meat in sight, North Carolina style.  Trevor Van Ackeran's friendship and good cooking makes our house as comfortable as the one he grew up in in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania.  Austin Bussing ("The Bus") is freshly graduated from Kansas U. and brings a quirky, well, indescribable flair to the house.  Then there's the star of Texas running past and present Craig Lutz, who brings a lot of talent to the team (and improves our batting average with girls).  Last but not least is Ryan Dohner, the skinny stallion and 10k All American, the one responsible for organizing this ship and its crew in the first place.

We're a rambunctious bunch, but we've got one collective goal in mind: running fast and putting ourselves and Texas on the map.  While our place shares a lot of the qualities commonly seen in any college track house (read: old shoes, socks, various rehab equipment, ice packs, sex doll named Patty), we try to do things a little differently.  Several nights a week are family dinners sometimes planned in advance but often whipped up last minute.   We hang out on our roof, watching the nearby freeway and listening to the occasional rumbling freight train while the Bus serenades us with his lovely voice and guitar skills - he does a lot of Blink 182 which I like (I was [and still am] in a Blink cover band at Princeton).  Aside from bickering about cleaning the dishes and paying the bills, we all get along surprisingly well.  I sense a bit of underlying competition between us all once in a while, but I know that's what's brought us all to this point in the first place.

The Roof.

I could think of nothing better than living with six other people who understand my running lifestyle and who share many of the goals I have.  A year ago I had no idea I was going to be in graduate school, let along Texas.  Right now I'm living life as it comes and loving it.  I'm super excited for the race this weekend.  I wish I could be there, but I'm busy getting ready for my lone indoor season.  Thats our thing: every guy in this house, doing what he needs to do to make the team the best, together.