Granite State Road Runner

Run #5: Running in Circles

Distance: 10.12 kilometers. Time: 44:32.

I think about my life a lot. Not more than I should, I don’t think, but definitely more often than most people do. It’s a habit that I’m trying to break, because I see things so much better when I’m in the present, with my eyes on the horizon.

This morning, I decided I was going to run a good 15 kilometers or so. I was feeling good, and ready to start pushing some distance; after all, my marathon is in a month. It’s about time to get those longer runs in. I am not worried about making it that 26.2 miles, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself; I haven’t run it yet.

I chose a small loop here in Greenville because it was cold this morning, and I wanted to stick around so that Shannon wouldn’t wonder where I was. It goes through our downtown, if you want to call it that, and meanders back to our house. It’s about seven tenths of a mile, a small distance, but it works out that nine laps is about ten kilometers. I started my morning with some kick-ass buttermilk oatmeal pancakes to charge up, and…well, I should have figured that’d be my first mistake.

My second mistake came right around lap number four, when I realized that this is just a loop, no big deal. It was a little cold still, but getting warmer, and the running was getting easy, so I kinda spaced for a while. I had music playing, but I can’t remember really hearing it; I just kinda sailed through the run. Looking at my splits on Nike+, it seems I got faster. Way faster.

After I stopped with my Zen running, my first mistake caught up to me. Turns out, those pancakes didn’t digest as quickly as I thought, and my coffee wasn’t sitting with me well. I felt like I was going to toss my breakfast, and I hate that feeling. When I puke, I scream, and feel like crap, so I stopped at 10 kilometers. When I cut the iPod, I heard this weird pre-recorded message from Joan Benoit Samuelson, telling me that I had posted my best mile.

I ran my fastest 10k yet.

But, what stuck with me most was what I was thinking about while I was running. Three weeks ago, Shannon found out that she is pregnant. She thought she had a jacked-up thyroid, and she had been cranky, irritable, and couldn’t sleep for more than a couple hours at a time. For a while, her doctors thought she had Graves’ Disease, so they ran a bunch of labs on her, and wanted her to have a radioactive iodine uptake test. She figured she should make sure she wasn’t pregnant.

Three positive tests later, and here we are.

I think about Emma all the time. I wonder what she’d be like, what our lives would be like if she were here, I replay memories of her kicking around inside Shannon all the time. But this time, I was thinking about this new sibling and who s/he is. And I couldn’t help but feel like Emma was watching over us for this one. I have had this overwhelming fear that we’re just waiting for things to go wrong again, but during this run, I felt like someone was watching over me, like Emma was watching over me, and over everything. It just felt serene.

Until the gurgling in my stomach told me that I had had enough.

Man, it’s been a while.

As a teacher, it’s always your goal to make it to the next break unscathed. Whether it’s the weekend, or a long week, or the summer, that’s a horizon you’re always looking toward. So, naturally, I was really relieved to reach my April break with my sanity. And while I do have to burn some of it on grading, I can at least recap what I’ve been up to.

BILL RODGERS

Now, I’m not completely up to date on the Who’s Who of running. I only know of a few names: I really look up to runners like Steve Prefontaine and Desiree Davila, and I have seen runners like Geoffrey Mutai and Caroline Kilel. Anything beyond that, and I’m usually stumped. But, I did know this name from fifty miles away: Bill Rodgers, who won the NYC and Boston Marathons a ton of times in the 70s, came to my school for a charity auction for our foundation. He is exactly as they describe him in articles and books: cool, chill, a little spacey, but eloquent and great to talk to. He told me about qualifying for Boston (one of my goals), saying that it was so much easier when he did it because it was much less reputable than it is now. He also told me that there was no way he would have made it in the courses I teach (physics and calculus).

Now, I knew Bill was coming to our school weeks in advance, so naturally I brought things for him to sign. I brought my tech shirt from the BAA Half Marathon and my finisher’s medal from the same event. I kept the shirt (he signed it ‘Mike, Let’s run forever, Bill.’), but gave the finisher’s medal to a girl named Julie, one of my best cross country runners. He signed the medal to her, wishing her the best in the running that is to come. That night, someone (and she doesn’t know who, but it could have been him) offered to pay for a week’s worth of running camp for her. $520, to an eighth grade runner that no one there really knew. Amazing.

EASTER

You know how the holidays are sometimes the only times we see our families, and that’s a good thing? Shannon and I spent our Easter with her family, which was tumultuous because (apparently) Shannon’s sister’s dog wasn’t meshing well with Shannon’s mom. Whatever.

But, it was a good weekend because I got in the first new run in the PureConnects that I bought two weeks ago. Damn, did they feel good. I also tried the Smartwool Outdoor Sport socks, and MAN, are they good for running. I felt so light and so nimble, it’s not even funny. Forget about the fact that I had so many carbs in my system I could have sent a rocket to space on them. I’ll write more about that run later; I felt like I was being watched the whole time, and it was one of the most peaceful feelings I’ve ever had.

BAKING

If you want to learn to make kick-ass vegan sourdough English muffins, I have some rising right now. I am going to post pictures, and you are going to want some. Period.

BEER and the BAA 5k

While I really wish I was running on Monday, I am running in the BAA 5k on Sunday, which starts at Copley Square at 8:00 AM. Shannon and I are going to hit Beantown tonight to go in search of Sam Adams 26.2 Marathon Ale, which they’ve apparently brewed specifically for this year’s Boston Marathon, and that they might not brew again. Good mission for our trip to Boston!

WRITING

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I haven’t written. I get it. I need to write more. I get it. Marathon training is in full-swing and the run is only seven weeks away. Bread needs to be baked and beer needs to be brewed. I haven’t forgotten, and I’ll be writing more. Guarantee it.

Run #4: Greenville to Wilton (or, what to do when you bite more than you can chew)

Distance: 13.4 miles, plus a little. Time: 1:40:22.

I really thought this one was going to be easy.

No, I really did. I had this mental checklist in my mind of everything I needed and was going to do. Running tights, adidas shorts, shirt, BAA Half Marathon jacket: check. iPod: check. Double-tied shoes: check. Plan for a conservative start for two or three kilometers, then beast it: check. Florence + the Machine, because I’m still not through with the album: check.

Yesterday was a beautiful day over southern New Hampshire. Mid-40s, a few scattered drizzle-carrying showers, but sun otherwise. Not too many cars on the road on account of the working day. Felt charged up and truly locked in. Had plenty of fuel for a good 13.1 miles.

Wilton is a little further north of me, just up the Souhegan River, and the river flows directly from Greenville to Wilton. That means I had to accept a basic fact: this run would be downhill on my way, and uphill back. (I had planned for that. Check.) So, the slow start was key, and I used it. My splits for the first three kilometers were 5:14, 4:44, and 4:43, respectively.

Then, I could feel I had a good long stretch to open up my stride and fly, and I did. Route 31 can be a scary road; there are weird trailers that seem empty and dilapidated but people actually live in them; semi-trucks use the route as a shipping lane to Fitchburg, Leominster, and Worcester. But, the feel of the river flowing with me was serene, almost as though it was my running partner along for the ride.

I get to Route 101, and I figured I’d run into trouble with traffic, but there was none to be had. It was almost as though things were going TOO well. Then, over Florence Welch’s rocking, I heard a robotic voice say: Halfway Point. 6.55 miles to go. 

Shit, I thought. I’m not even to Wilton yet! What do I do?

And this is where I just overreached. A simple, hubristic overreach. It can’t be THAT far, I thought. I had just come up to a convenience store I knew of and the turn for downtown Wilton was up ahead. Surely, my target wasn’t that far away.

When I got to downtown Wilton, (which looks like downtown Greenville, except that businesses there are actually OPEN), I tapped the little button for feedback. 5.75 miles to go. 

Fuck me runnin’, I thought. I had gone nearly seven and a half miles. This meant I had to get back, and THEN run about two more miles home. Ugh. I hadn’t prepared for that, and so my mind went haywire. Could I make it? Did I have enough go? Would slowing down even matter?

The lesson here is that all running is a mental game. It’s not about your body or your legs or your heart or your blood or any of that shit, really. It’s about your mind. Where you are and what you’re thinking. And once I had the chance to really slow down my thinking, I was fine. Here’s what calmed me:

1. You only planned for 13.1 miles. Something just happened to your map. No big deal.
2. You’ve run 13.1 before. You’re not due to run 15 until next week.
3. Two miles is nothing to walk, and it will be good to stretch things out anyway.
4. No matter what, you’ve run further than most would dare.

So, I just kept plugging along, cruising through the rest of the route, and when I got to 13.4 miles, I stopped. Who cares if I didn’t make it all the way there and back? I made my goal, and I didn’t need to make any more. No sweat. (Well, lots of sweat, but you know what I mean.)

Maybe five minutes later, the sky opened on me. Rain from a cold cloud on a mid-40s day. Fuck, I thought. I gotta get home. So, I started up the iPod for another workout and ran it anyway. In total, I ran about 15 miles, felt more sore and more stiff than I ever had, and somehow felt like, in the end, I hadn’t done enough. I immediately came home, had two pints (PINTS!) of water and a bowl of moosemeat stew that was leftover in the fridge. I was drained, and I had kicked my own ass, but it was good because I had learned something about overreaching: I could have just turned around at mile 6.55, but should I have?

Run #3: Loop through New Ipswich

Distance: 10 kilometers. Time: 47:41.

Every runner has a route that is just theirs. You runners know what I mean. It’s the route that fits you like a glove and challenges you a million times over, even though you’ve done it a million times over. This route is good for your body and soul because it doesn’t let you off easy, but it’s not like you’ll get lost or find out something you didn’t already know. It’s safe, but you know that safety came from mastery.

Mine is ten kilometers of pure hilly goodness, and that’s why I love this route I’ve chosen. It’s where I go to clear my head after long days at work or long thoughts on the ride home. It’s where I go when I know I have to get a 10k in for training, no compromises. I could run it with my eyes closed. And every time I run it, I get a bit faster. Just a bit.

This route heads up a monstrous hill on High Street in Greenville, past a washout that has been out of repair for more than four years. As a result, the road is blocked at the Greenville/New Ipswich town line by a gate made out of wire fencing. Every time, I run right under it and past a cemetery on my right. (Tell Emma we love her. Thank you!)

After the monstrous hill, I start keeping count. If I look ahead, I usually see another hill I have to climb. This one looks big, but it’s only because I’m looking at it from a higher elevation; they aren’t so bad when I start them. High Street rolls into Greenville Road, which rolls into Temple Road, and before long, I’m in the center of New Ipswich and I’ve run 5k.

I don’t usually like running in front of people, because I see all the time that they are killing themselves in some way. There’s a corner store called the New Ipswich Market, where Temple Road meets NH Route 123. People move in and out. Some smoke. Some chat on their cell phones and sit in their idling cars. Some bring food out of the store that I think they think is healthy. I run by and up another hill.

This section of Route 123 makes up the shortest part of the route, but it’s when I know I’ve survived. As soon as I get past the New Ipswich Market, I’m at 5k. Looking up the road, there’s another hill, where you can’t see the treeline past it until you get up the hill. The best part of every hill is that point where you can see above it to what’s beyond. Then you know you’re going to make it over, and before long, it’s another conquered hill.

Then, I coast. This part of the route feels like flying, because it’s ALL downhill. The road runs to the Souhegan River, which powered textile mills back in the day, but now simply idles along, quiet and innocuous. I run past houses, a fire department, an ambulance service. At this point in the run, I discovered Florence and The Machine as running partners, and I sped along. I could feel that this was going to be a fast 10k.

There’s another hill to meet me where the road makes a turn toward Warwick Mills, which you can see as you cruise around the curve. It’s a big building, only imposing when you look below the facade that faces the road. It sits in a valley, five or six stories tall, cars parked at its base. It’s one of those landmarks on the route that dares you to start running faster, as though it won’t be there when you get there. Exhilarating.

I turn left at a blinking light where NH Route 123 where it breaks off of Route 124. (The routes are technically joined.) At this point, I’m seven kilometers in, and I’ve hit repeat on Ms. Welch three times. Damn, this is a good song. From here, I’m cruising home, crossing the green town line sign into Greenville and past another fire department, turning left at Marcus P’s, and meandering around Main Street and Route 45 toward home.

I run because I’m afraid of dying, and I run because I can, because it makes me feel free. You might ask, though, what else is there? What else do you run for?

Here’s another good reason: if you map out my route on Google Maps, you can zoom out to a map that spans Hillsborough County and still see my route. I have the physical strength to move visibly on a map, to move distances that most people only envision driving. That’s a good feeling.

Run #2: Orange, MA woods to downtown Athol, MA.

Distance: 10.16 miles. Time: 1:19:07.

I had a lot on my mind this week. I think about Emma every day, and that’s enough, but on top of that, work, kids, and a bunch of other things had been weighing on my mind. When there’s that much on my mind, there’s really only one way to calm my mind and sort things out.

I am also working on slowly building up my marathon distance, and so I took a cue from an article I read in Runners’ World about Geoffrey Mutai and Mary Keitany’s performances at the NYC Marathon. Mutai beasted the field with a slower, conservative start, while Keitany fell back when her pace proved unsustainable. I tried Mutai’s approach, starting off at a slow 8:00 mile for the first run.

Northern Massachusetts is a lot like southern New Hampshire, in that the hills and the rolling nature of it looks like a lot more than it is, but it’s still significant in your mind. This time, the hills felt like nothing, even though they rolled over and over like a clock. And before I knew it, I was in Athol, a small downtown on Route 2A that feels like the vestiges of a mill town and the blockiness of a midwestern downtown all in one place.

I ran through the streets, passing people as I went. I knew they were talking, but I couldn’t hear them; I was clearly in a trance. I chose some quiet, slow, deliberate ambient tunes by Sigur Ros, so they helped me keep pace. As I worked my way up Route 2A, I climbed a small hill over the town and heard my iPod announce that I was halfway done. Five miles.

Already? No way. I can’t be done. But, there was the proof, so I figured I might as well turn around. I ran up the driveway of a random building and turned around, sticking my hands out like children do when they want to be airplanes. I was making kick-ass time, and I knew it. I felt free.

I am neither cold nor worried when I run. When I leave, I am back when I am back. I only have one destination, and it’s over when it’s over, so I don’t have to worry about that. I will go places. I will see people and things. Each step is its own moment. But, on the way back, I knew I had WAY more juice than five more miles, so I stepped it up, concentrating on striking the perfect point in my step and making the most of every stride. I can do this in 80 minutes, I thought. 7:50 mile. Sure enough, on my way back to the house of a friend where I was staying, I heard the feedback meter reach 400 m when 1:17:00 was the time. I knew I had made it.

This run had the goal of clearing my mind and my body, and I did indeed make my mark. Soon comes a twelve-miler and a massive leg-working session. Work and life isn’t getting easier, but I know I have that time to retreat to.