Anatomy of a DNS

"I have a very interesting story about that. Actually, it's not so much interesting as it is long."
– Abe Simpson

So, I had a DNS at the Tuesday SFTC track meet this week. The story of that DNS is not so much interesting as it is long. But here goes:

The story begins with us in hot water – literally. A few weeks ago, we had a small leak in a hot water pipe under the house. We called a plumber, who came to fix the pipe. Unfortunately, when he turned the water back on, he put a bit too much pressure on the valve. Sue is more sensitive to this sort of thing than I am, and so she noticed the increase in water pressure right away and asked me to turn it down a tad. I did so, but I guess not quite enough.

When we got up yesterday morning, there was no hot water coming from the spigots at all. The cold water taps were working just fine, but no hot water. Ergo, we concluded, there must be a massive break in the hot water pipe, quite likely just under the hot water heater. Sure enough, when we opened the compartment containing the hot water heater, we could hear rushing torrents of water spilling beneath the house. In all probability, the excess water pressure had caused a complete break in the pipe. It was time to call the plumber again.

So, what does any of this have to do with running? It has a great deal to do with running, actually. Remember that track meet I was going to run on Tuesday evening? Well, the plumbing company told us that it would not be possible to come fix the new leak on Monday, but that someone would call first thing on Tuesday morning.

Sue and I must both be home when someone comes to perform a service like plumbing or electrical work or what-knot, because we have so many indoor pets that it takes one person to make sure no animals escape while the other person converses with the professional doing the repairs. I figured, no problem: with all the online courses I “teach” these days, I do most of my work from home. And I imagined that I’d have plenty of time after the plumbing repairs to drive to Kingsport for the track meet.

Sue woke me up rather early on Tuesday morning. She had just spoken with the plumbing company, and they had told her someone would be at the house within the hour. Sweet! That means I don’t get to sleep in, but I’ll have plenty of time to deal with the plumbers, get some work done, and still have plenty of time to go kick some butt in the 800m and mile!

I’m awake and dressed in a matter of minutes. We decide to wolf down some breakfast and a cup of coffee before the guy comes to fix the pipe. And then, we wait. And wait. And wait. And wait. And wait. I decide to do a bit of work while we’re waiting. I finish all the paid employment I must do for the day. Still no plumber arrives. We wait. And wait. And wait. We get hungry again and have a late lunch. There’s still no plumber. We wait.

The time to leave for the track meet in Kingsport comes and goes. We still have no one to fix the pipe. Sue takes a short nap. I do a little more work. We finally decide to call and find out what the hold-up is. And we’re told that they won’t be able to get out to the house on Tuesday after all!

Eh, by this time I was out of the notion of wanting to race anyway. It’s probably just as well, seeing as how I’ll be racing twice next week. Plumbing happens.

BSG Decision Time

This week, I’ve started Phase IV of the current training cycle. That is, the fourth phase of four. The Characteristically Convoluted Training Plan (CCTP) has been honed for months to peak for a race on July 25. The only question has been: which race?

My thinking was in terms of the Bluegrass State Games. When the CCTP was merely a gleam in my eye, my first choice was the 1500m at BSG. I figured I’d aim for that race, but would do the 5K road race instead if I didn’t think I could do the 1500m without embarrassing myself.

The thing is, my definition of embarrassment has changed as I’ve gotten fitter. Just a few months ago, not being embarrassed was a matter of not being lapped by the M40 winner of the 1500m. Judging from results of previous years, that would take something in the neighborhood of a 5:50, and I’m basically at that level now – right where I wanted to be. But, I’m no longer content to merely avoid being lapped. To make the BSG 1500m worth my while, I would now actually want to be competitive in my AG! Maybe next year. This year, I’ll race 5K on the 25th of July.

So, I was about to fill out the entry blank for the 5K road race at BSG, and I got to thinking about the tweaks I’d need to make to Phase IV of the CCTP, and about the logistics of the trip. Lexington is much too far away to drive there for an early morning race, and so I was thinking about the best place to stay for the race. I also wanted to know a bit about the course, since that might help with deciding on both a hotel and on how to prepare for the race.

Two hours on the Internet yielded the following realizations: (A) The course map has not yet been posted to the USATF website. Does this mean it’s uncertified? And even if it is certified, I’d really like to know what sort of elevation profile and surface to prepare for! (B) Hotels in Lexington are very expensive. I don’t need anything fancy. But I’ve done quite a bit of overnight traveling lately, and I’m sort of burned out on it. (C) Finding a 5K road race on any given weekend is not remotely difficult. Heck, there are at least two others in the Lexington area that weekend! On the one hand, I was thinking about how those two other races might draw away some of Kentucky’s fast M40s. On the other hand, it only goes to show that the BSG 5K road race isn’t all that special. Racing 1500m on the track is a rare treat for a guy my age, but you can race 5K on the road anywhere.

Then, there’s realization (D): That very day, there is a 5K in Surgoinsville. It’s the Phipps Bend 5K. That race is on one of the fastest, record-eligible, USATF certified courses our area has to offer. It would make a perfect 5K for a peak performance, and it is within reasonable driving distance for a Saturday morning race. So, there: I’m racing at Phipps Bend on July 25th. It’s really a no-brainer.

Comparison and Contentment

This sign has given me a lot of opportunity for reflection over the past couple of weeks. And so, I hope the folks at this church won’t mind that I stopped on the way home to take a picture of it.

The basic sentiment is, of course, a very central idea in my own adopted spiritual tradition. And so, part of what caught my attention was seeing the idea expressed by a religious organization that is so very different. But that ought to tell you that it’s true! It seems reasonable that the truer something is, the more likely it would to have been discovered by people walking a wide variety of spiritual paths. Regardless, knowing that something is true doesn’t always make it easy to practice.

There are running lessons to be inferred here, but I’ll leave them for you to ponder.

SFTC Summer Track Meet #2: Are You Sure Sir Roger Done It This Way?

Two freakin’ seconds! That’s how close I came to the 6:00 barrier in the mile this evening. Actually, my watch had it at 6:01.85. I’m guessing it’ll round to 6:02 in the official results. So, make that unofficially 1.85 freakin’ seconds!

The open heat was pretty crowded – 21 runners. I ended up starting way out in Lane 6 and behind the first row of runners toeing the starting line. Plus, I ran most of the first 200 meters in lane 2 to avoid getting boxed. Heck, come to think of it, that’s probably 1.85 seconds right there! And it was 85 degrees at race time; that ought to be worth a second or two, oughtn’t it? Maybe I should check to see if the elevation in Kingsport is high enough to constitute “altitude” while I’m about making excuses!

Of course, the answer to the title question of this post is no: I’m chasing my personal barrier on my own, whereas Bannister’s sub-4 was a team effort that pioneered the use of pacers. (Maybe I ought to slip one of the fit high school athletes who turn out for the SFTC meets ten bucks to pace me through a sub-6? Might be worth a try.) But for a change, my solo pacing was nearly flawless: I didn’t start quite as fast as usual, and I didn’t fade at all in the third quarter.

The first split was 89 seconds. That’s still a tiny bit too fast, though, because the first split for a mile on a metric track is actually 409.344 meters. Still, that’s a good four seconds slower than I ran the first split a week ago, and it was nice not to feel like I was already in survival mode. And I held on to finish the second lap in a perfect 3:00.

To avoid my usual pattern of fading in the third quarter, I focused on reeling in other runners. I moved myself from 16th up to 13th and began the bell lap at 4:29 with the next runner about 15 meters ahead of me. I focused on his back and dug down, knowing I needed only a 91 second quarter for my sub-6.

The fellow ahead of me was running shirtless. With 300m to go, I realized I could distinctly see freckles between his shoulder blades. I was closing on him. He was over-striding just ever-so-slightly, and each step I took brought me a little closer. By 150m out, I could hear him breathing. I’m sure he could hear me breathing, too, because my own breathing was getting a little ragged. Had the race been 10 meters longer I would have caught him. And if I could have caught him in the 1 mile allotted for the purpose, I could have gone under 6:00!

Chasing another runner can give you the illusion that you’re going faster than you are, especially when you’re gaining on him. Obviously, I avoided fading in the third quarter this time but faded in the fourth quarter instead.

Okay, so bottom line: Another masters’ PR in the mile, but still no sub-6. That’s a WMA grade of 67.09%, and that’s starting to get close to an age-graded equivalent of my lifetime PR. If we go by WMA grades, I would need a 5:47.8 at age 44 to match the 5:19 I ran at age 22 – a 69.81% WMA grade. Maybe that can happen next year. For THIS year, though, I'm gonna get that sub-6:00 or else puke trying!

SFTC Summer Track Meet #1: A masters' PR and post-race articulateness

I have taken to wearing my RoadID bracelet to the free, low-key events sponsored by our area track club. That’s not because I fear falling over dead and needing someone to contact my wife Sue to come pick up my body. No, there’s a far more practical reason for it.

You see, the way these show-up-and-run events work is that someone takes down your name, age, and hometown after you finish. And after I run a hard mile, I’m usually too out of breath to talk. So, I just point to my ID bracelet and the volunteer who is performing that task has only to copy the pertinent information. I still have to whisper “forty-four” since the info on the bracelet doesn’t include my age, but that’s still much easier than explaining how to spell my name and the fact that “Jackhorn” (the little Kentucky community where I live) is one word instead of two, all while suffering from oxygen debt.

But at the first of the SFTC’s four summer track meets this evening, I did not have to resort to the RoadID technique after either of my two races. I was, in fact, rather articulate after each of them. In retrospect, I find this troubling: It means that I finished both races with far more left than I should have. On the other hand, it makes me feel confident that I might be able to duck under 6:00 for the mile next week, or perhaps the week after that.

The main thing I wanted to do at this particular meet was to check another hard target – a 65% WMA grade – off the BIG GOAL for the year, this one for 1500m. That would take a 5:50.8 or faster, and I figured I could pull that off even with the heat and humidity. There was only one problem: This meet did not include a 1500m race. There was a one mile race, however, and I did have the presence of mind to tap my watch and record an unofficial split at 1500m – good enough for me.

That 1500m split was 5:48.98. We could call it 5:49 even, but since it’s unofficial anyway, why not give myself the extra .02 second? And I kicked home the mile in 6:08.72 according to my watch. That one will probably round to 6:09 in the official results – not quite a masters’ PR, but close. Again, given the fact that I could clearly say my name, age, and hometown immediately afterwards means that I ought to be able to take some serious time off that.

I also wanted to get the soft target – a 62.5% WMA grade, or 13:48 – for the deuce. And I did that with a 13:30. Here’s something that tells me how much I’ve matured as a runner since Back-In-The-Day: Nowadays, when I look around at a starting line and see that every runner there can kick my butt, I no longer get a sinking feeling of dread. I just think: Cool, I’ll hang with the pack for as long as I can, and that’ll help me run a fast time. When I finally finish the race, I apologize for any delay I might have caused and jot down my new PR in my training diary. In this particular race, I drafted behind next-to-last – a fellow who usually beats me by 2 or 3 minutes at 5K road races – for close to 1,000 meters before finally losing contact with him. And I did finish before the tornadoes and severe thunderstorms made their way to the Tri Cities! All in all, I feel very good about both races this evening.

I’m planning to do this for the next three Tuesdays. Hopefully, I’ll do the mile at all three of the remaining meets. I also want to try the 800m at one or two of them, and maybe even the 400m (just for the heck of it). After next week, I’ll decide whether I’m going to be in good enough 1500m shape for the Bluegrass State Games or if I should settle for the 5K there. Wish me luck!

The Varmint Half Marathon (or., little sheep and cow sex)

Want to knock nine minutes off your half marathon time? Forget all that LSD crap and train for the mile! That seems to have worked for me.

The plan for today’s race had been to treat it as a supported long run. But we had a severe thunderstorm this past Thursday at about the time I would ordinarily have headed out to the Jenkins High School track, and so I missed my second speedwork session for the week. To get the training plan back on track, I decided to throw in a few tempo miles on the relatively flat back stretch of the Varmint Half Marathon loop course. Result: I ran 1:43:43 and brought home a little brother for my Varmint sheep – second in my AG this time around. (Previous age 40+ best: 1:52:45 at last year's Varmint.)

And of course, it was a joy to see some folks I’ve connected with via blogging, Jenn (of Freedom to Be fame) and Ron (a.k.a. Red Shirt Guy, who wore yellow today). Jimmy, if you were there I’m sorry I missed you! And apologies to anyone else I’ve overlooked.

Aside from those three or four tempo miles, I had a run that was remarkable mostly for being so evenly paced. My slowest mile was the second one; it has the longest hill on the course. And because of cow sex (more about that presently), my eleventh mile was almost as slow. Otherwise, I did just about everything between 7:40 (for the middle few miles) and 8:00, depending on how hilly a given mile was.

Somewhere around the halfway mark, there was a fellow standing by a red car who told me I was in 30th place overall. He inspired me to do a little bit of racing for the tempo miles, and I moved myself up to 26th overall. One of my goals for today was to record a 10-mile split that would better my masters’ PR for that distance; I did so by passing the tenth mile in 1:18:48.

Then, just past the ten-mile split, I saw perhaps the strangest thing I’ve ever seen in a race. A herd of cattle were crossing the road in front of me when a big bull decided to … er, how to phrase this without offending anyone? … demonstrate his love for one of the cows right in the middle of the road! Now, I grew up in rural East Tennessee, so I’ve seen lots of cow sex in my time. But I think this is the first time I’ve seen it in the middle of the road, much less in the middle of a race!

I weaved to the rear of the happy couple and gently picked my way through the herd. But after having to nearly stop for the cows, I couldn’t quite find the rhythm again. I walked for quite a ways and passed the eleventh mile split in 1:27:12. And when I started running again, I took the next mile too fast – a 7:39 mile for a split of 1:34:51 at twelve miles. The last mile-plus then junked me more than it should have. That makes a last 5K-or-so in 24:55, an average of just under 8:01 for that last 3.109 miles – not too bad really, but I wish I could have finished a little fresher, seeing as how I’ll be racing the mile on Tuesday.

Still, 1:43:43 is a very good half marathon time for me. It’s a WMA age-grade of 61.41%. And it’s good enough to make me wonder how fast I might be able to crank out a half marathon on a flatter course with some training that's specifically geared to that distance!

What Counts as a PR?

You’d think this would be a very simple question to answer. Indeed, I would be surprised to learn that anyone who is as slow as I am frets over it as much as I do. But I have very exacting criteria.

Of course, other sorts of records – world records, American records, Canadian records, age group records, and the like – must have very exacting criteria. When someone from Montreal claims to have run the fastest 10K road race ever by a 60-year-old Canadian woman, others may very well beg to differ. Is this person really Canadian, or does she just happen to live in Canada? Can we verify the date of birth? Was the course accurately measured? Was there a huge elevation loss between the start and the finish? Are we sure the time was recorded accurately? But personal records are personal; you can define them however you like. If you’re willing to count it as a PR, then it’s a PR.

My own exacting criteria have become less exacting. I’ve changed my mind recently on two points. For one thing, I would now be willing to count my chip time instead of my gun time in a larger race. What changed my mind on this point was a brief conversation with a marathoner who made me realize that it’s hard to find marathons nowadays in which there’s not likely to be a large difference between chip time and gun time for runners of average ability. If average runners don’t have the opportunity to start at the gun, it doesn’t seem fair to penalize their PRs several minutes.

A few weeks ago, I volunteered at the start/finish of a very small, hand-timed 5K where I noticed several runners tapping the start buttons on their watches as they crossed the starting line – which would give them a sort of simulated chip time. In the case of a small race (this one had only about 40 finishers), the difference would probably be on the order of 2 seconds even for those at the very back. But I’ve missed PRs by less than that!

I don’t think I’m going to follow their example in such small races; I’m in the habit of starting my watch with the gun (or whistle or air horn or race director shouting “go”). But I might do the simulated chip-time thing with the watch at Eastman this fall. To this day, I’m convinced that my lifetime 10K PR – 40:09 at the 1986 Eastman – is over 40 minutes because it took me more than 9 seconds to get to the starting line.

The other point on which I’ve changed my mind is that I’m now willing to count a PR en-route to a finish at a longer distance, provided that I can remember to record a split with my watch at that point. And provided that I’m reasonably sure the markers for miles or meters are in the right place. For distances that I don’t get to race very often – 1500m and 10 miles, for example – it seems legit. Heck, I’m planning to get masters PRs at both 10 miles and 1500m in the coming week, and I won’t actually be racing either of those distances. The 10 mile mark at the Varmint Half Marathon is right where the USATF certification map says it is, and the 1500m mark on the track at Dobyns-Bennet High School (which I will pass on the way to a finish at 1 mile) is very clearly indicated.

That leaves me with only a few of my exacting criteria. The time has to be in an organized race; no individual time trials. It has to be on a track or on an accurately measured, record eligible road course. Usually, that means USATF-certification. Official time takes precedence over the time I’ve recorded myself – if the official time (including chip time) is available. My criteria may be getting laxer, but you’ve gotta have some standards.