I’m Bored, and Don’t Feel Like Putting the Work Into a Formal Blog Post Today. So Here’s Some Funny Stuff I Found.

April 9, 2015April 9, 2015 / tmcfar1 / Leave a comment

First, the e-cards. As a health care professional, I find this one pretty topical:

Next, consider the following triptych. There’s me a year ago:

Followed by me now:

And finally, me in a couple of months (I hope):

Aaaand also, and still true…

Finally, I found this out yesterday: when asked whether he was keeping in shape on a treadmill, Noel Gallagher of Oasis said he thought running was for “fucking squares“. He’s probably right. Instead, maybe this (yes, I know only a handful of dudes in a secluded monastery haven’t seen it yet, but still):

http://https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IWu9o5zrj3g

That is all.

2015 Race #3: Edison Festival of Light 5K, Fort Myers, FL

April 7, 2015April 8, 2015 / tmcfar1 / Leave a comment

Date: February 21, 2015
Gun Time: 21:12
Chip Time: 21:06
Placing Overall: 95th out of 1207
Placing in Age Group: 7th out of 47
Theme Song: “Fat Bottomed Girls“, Queen

Well, one race was apparently not enough for me in the Florida heat, so I found myself at the Edison Festival of Light in downtown Fort Myers preparing to lace ’em up again. Frankly, it was a treat not having to run through snowbanks, and I had been taking full advantage over our vacation, going out for training whenever I could. The Edison Festival is a good time, with a bazaar, lots of food, and live music, and the family and I took full advantage of this as we waited for the late afternoon race to begin. Lots of tall skinny teenage track club types were hanging around the start line in their gear, sizing up the competition; the race is a magnet for competitors state wide and has apparently hosted a masters’ world record and an American open record in the past.

This distance was a bit more in my wheelhouse than the longer races I had been learning to run. I was a 3K and 5K runner as a youth, and I was still pretty comfortable with these types of events. I was curious to see how much of that aerobic capacity I had maintained over the years, given that I hadn’t run competitive middle distance in, oh, 25 years or so. A gentle breeze wafted through the swaying palms as the sun started to set and we were called to the start line.

Though limited to about 1200 participants, this was the largest race I had run in to date, and the spectator support was great. The 5K is run just before the Festival of Light Parade, and the streets were lined with thousands of people, cheering loudly. I had not run in this environment before and the adrenaline was surging to the point where I had to take some calming breaths before the gun and remind myself not to take off too quickly.

Having positioned myself toward the front of the pack, I settled into a fast pace as we steamed down Edwards Drive along the Caloosahatchie river. The cheering crowd was energizing and I was rolling along at about a 6:30 mile through the first third of the course.

I realized pretty quickly that my cold weather training had another flaw; namely, I was getting a bit bothered by the South Florida heat and humidity. The temperature at race time was around 74 degrees, which, while not blazing hot, was not quite what I was used to. Usually I am a bit bemused by water stations appearing on a 5K course, however I was glad to be able to use the water on my head and neck to cool down a bit as I tried to maintain a fast pace.

Rounding the last corner I dug deep and started to sprint to the finish. I could see the finish line clock was still sub 21 minutes, and though I gritted my teeth and gave it everything, I couldn’t quite get there in the 20 minutes and change I was hoping for. Here’s video of me crossing the finish line at 21:12 (I’m in the grey shirt and blue shorts to the left of the picture).

http://results.chronotrack.com/athlete/index/e/12608986

In the end, a top 100 finish was a pretty good consolation prize. I was only several seconds short of placing top five in my age category and winning an award, and out of 252 Masters’ finishers I was 12th. Plus, according to Lori the band serenaded us with Queen’s “Fat Bottomed Girls” as our group of runners hit the finish, which I would have found hilariously ironic if I had actually heard it (I guess I was so focused on finishing I shut everything else out).

The old man can still pick ’em up and lay ’em down when he wants to, I guess.

Just Finished My First 40 Mile Week of Training. Ow.

April 5, 2015April 5, 2015 / tmcfar1 / Leave a comment

So, it turns out 40 miles is a lot of running.

It took me quite a long time to figure out how to fit everything into a reasonable schedule and be able to ramp the mileage up without worrying about work schedules, or getting hurt. One of the problems I had was the sheer number of marathon training plans out there, and trying to pick between them. Pfitzinger. FIRST. Galloway. Jack Daniels (did a double take with this one, obviously). Higdon. BAA. Hanson. And so on.
The opinions for and against these sorts of plans seemed to revolve around a couple of important questions. First, what should be the maximum weekly mileage to aim for prior to tapering? And second, how long should the longest runs be?

I wasn’t really prepared for the wide variation in answers to these questions proposed by these plans. In terms of the longest run question, the runs varied from 14-16 miles (admittedly, these distances came up in plans designed just to get runners across the finish line, and I’m looking to do a bit better than just finishing) to 29 miles (this in the Galloway plan, which emphasizes intermittent walking with the running and a very slow pace, which was a deal breaker for me, though I know it works for lots of people).

Now, I’m a novice at this. I know that the goal with a first marathon should be to make that finish line with time being de-emphasized, but I’m stubborn. I want to run a sub 4:00, and am shooting for sub 3:45. Based on my race times at shorter distances, the calculators available to estimate my marathon time tended to spit out around a 3:25-3:30 time. This, I knew, was completely unrealistic.

I felt, according to the bulk of what I read, that multiple 20 milers were probably necessary to reach my goal, but more than 20 miles was probably a concern for me given my propensity for inflammatory type injuries and this training distance was probably best left to the elites.

Interestingly, the most scientific approach to marathon time projection I found came not from Runner’s World, or Running Times, or any of the other major sport-specific publications, but… from Slate.com.

It used real world data provided by runners from over 4,000 races in order to more accurately predict the marathon time in particular. The methodology used was sound, and the results seemed a lot more accurate than with other calendars. It solved the weekly mileage question for me too, as training schedules were surveyed, and the runners who logged 50 miles per week prior to tapering performed better than those who did not (the average being 35 miles).

The calculator and methodology can be found here.

So, I am actually doing a sort of hybrid between the intermediate Higdon and the FIRST program, with the mileage coming from the Higdon, but my running pace more similar to the FIRST (I do my long runs at the slowest marathon pace I would be satisfied with, i.e. a 4:00 marathon pace, rather than 60-120 seconds per mile off pace). I also alternate shorter, easier workouts with longer ones, and take back-to-back days off.

Just for illustration, this week’s runs included:
Tuesday: Speedwork – 8 miles total, including warm-up, cool-down, and 5 x 7 minute reps at a 6:45 mile pace.
Wednesday: 5 miles at slightly faster than marathon pace (around 8:20-8:30 mile)
Thursday: 7.5 miles at marathon pace (8:45 mile)
Friday: 3.5 miles at slightly slower than marathon pace (around 9:20 mile)
Today: Long run of 16.3 miles, at slowest marathon pace I’d be happy with (9:10 mile) followed by 2 days off.
Total: 40.3 miles.

As far as injuries are concerned, it’s gotten to the point where I’m basically managing a couple of minor injuries (left groin tendonitis and right medial tibial tendonitis) and trying to keep them from becoming bigger problems, using the same ice, compression, elevation, intermittent rest, and use of anti-inflammatories that I’ve used before. And it seems to be working, although we shall see if this holds when I get up to 50 plus miles in a couple of weeks. Anyway, now I’m off for a couple of days, so at least there’s that.

I’m gonna go eat some cupcakes now.

2015 Race #2: Paradise Coast Half Marathon, Naples, FL

April 1, 2015April 8, 2015 / tmcfar1 / Leave a comment

Date: February 15, 2015
Gun Time: 1:40:32
Chip Time: 1:40:21
Placing Overall: 43^rd out of 427
Placing in Age Group: 9^th out of 25 (M40-44)
Theme Song: The Cramps, “I Can’t Hardly Stand It”

A warning before we get started with this post – it gets a little, shall we say, scatological. And not in a cuss word sort of way. So you may want to bear that in mind before reading.

I wasn’t supposed to run this race. The plan had been to run a competitive half marathon to sort of gauge where I was at prior to enrolling in my first marathon in May, but I had decided on (and in fact had registered for) the Syracuse Half Marathon in March. It was just that… the training was going so damn well, and I felt so strong, that I made a snap decision to head to Naples for this one as well. We were vacationing about 40 minutes drive north in Cape Coral, it made sense from a scheduling perspective, and with a couple of 13 mile runs already under my belt I felt like doing it wouldn’t be a problem, and would give me an idea of what I could do early in training.

The drive from Ontario to the gulf coast of Florida is a long one, and when you have kids it’s not like you want to dawdle. This meant that my diet in the couple of days previous to the half marathon (I was running it at 6AM the day after a late evening arrival in Cape Coral) consisted of, well, Golden Corral buffets and McDonald’s fries. In other words, not exactly the stuff of which Hal Higdon would approve.

Now, some foreshadowing, courtesy of Runner’s World magazine:

Runners’ Colitis is a term used to describe an exercise-induced form of colitis that is usually a temporary condition, brought on by long mileage or the intensity of a run, in other words, physical stress… consider your diet [prior to racing].

In other words, said diet was about to make a rather unwelcome contribution to my day.

Lori and the kids showed no interest in accompanying me to Naples at 5:30 in the morning, and so I arrived at the Florida Sports Park (home of the “World Famous Swamp Buggy Races”, whatever they are) in the cool morning air to get ready for the race.

After grabbing a coffee (in retrospect, given subsequent events, probably another poor decision) I did my stretching and got to the starting corral as the sun was coming up. The temperature was about 50F at the start of the race and with the course being flat and no wind it looked like perfect conditions were to be the order of the day, especially in comparison with the ones I had been running in at home.

The race was a small one, with about 500 participants running the marathon and half combined, and about four-fifths of these doing the half. We were off into the cool Florida morning at 6:45AM and my first official half marathon was underway. Trying to keep my pace controlled, I breezed through the first mile in 7:30. My pace felt comfortable, conditions were perfect, and the miles started to roll by as I passed palm groves and gated communities. My goal going into the race was to run sub 1:45, and it certainly seemed to be playing out that way early on.

The first hint of a problem started to emerge around mile 6. The sport drink I had just taken at an aid station did not seem to be sitting right. The following is a quick synopsis of my thought process for the next few miles:

Mile 7: Shit, cramping. Ow, ow, ow. How is it possible to have a cold sweat on my forehead when it’s 70 degrees out and I’m running?

Mile 7.5: Running around a lake now. Feel like I’m gonna crap myself. OK. Don’t stop. Wow, that guy’s totally sprinting for the portajohns. Guess I’m not the only one. Godspeed, brother.

lake

Mile 8.5: OK. OK. No big deal. Hold your pace. Just gotta get through a couple more miles and OH GOD DID SOME COME OUT? I THINK SOME CAME OUT. Wait, no. Maybe. Just keep running.

Mile 10: Jesus, 3 more miles to go? C’mon. Hold it in. Damn, my legs are sore now too.

At this point, I checked my split (1:14:30) and calculated that sub 1:40 was still possibly in play, despite struggling with my pace due to cramping. A long, brutal straightaway that seemed to go on forever dominated the end of the race and despite my troubles I (pardon the pun) gutted things out to the last stretch and the entry to the Sports Park. Being so close to the finish was energizing and I couldn’t help smiling as I came within sight of the finish, even if it was more of a grimace.

Then I saw the time on the finish line clock was 1:35:30. What the hell? The last 3 miles were a bit fuzzy due to my efforts to keep my insides in, but I didn’t think there was any way that I was that fast. After grabbing my medal and some water at the finish, it was off to the portajohns myself. Fortunately I finished fairly early compared to most of the runners and there were no lines.

I recovered sufficiently to grab a slab of post race pizza and it soon became evident that there was beer on offer. And it was free. At least, the Budweiser, and Bud Light were. The guy behind me asked for a Stella, and was told he would be charged for it.

“I’ll go get my wallet,” he sighed, stomping off.

A man of discerning taste, apparently. Me, I’m good with free.

Sitting in the Florida sunshine afterward, aforementioned cold beer in hand, I felt a lot better. It soon became clear that the organizational skills of Elite Events, who were coordinating the race for the first time this year, were, uh, a bit lacking. For example, it took them forever to announce the winners of the various age groups, or even figure out who they were. My posted time and placing changed several times after the race, and there were no monitors where times could be checked. And most egregious of all, how the hell can you allow the bloody finish line clock to be off by 5 whole minutes???

Nevertheless, gastro troubles aside, I was happy with my run and my time. I was guaranteed a PR anyway and the fact that I pretty much crushed my goal was gratifying. Plus, lessons were learned for future races, even if said lessons were learned the hard way…

Well, sh*t is about to get real up in here…

March 31, 2015April 5, 2015 / tmcfar1 / 2 Comments

…because I just officially signed up for both the Rite Aid Cleveland Marathon and the Great Lakes Marathon Series.

Also, and probably more important, I will be fundraising for gastric cancer advocacy and research through supporting the Debbie’s Dream Foundation with my run, due to a close family member who has recently been stricken with the disease. Here is a link to my fundraising page: http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/mcfarlanetom/clevelandrun.

So it’s on. Can’t back out now. Also, thinking about getting one of the snazzy GLMS training shirts:

They only take cheques (or, I guess, checks??) in US funds, so will have to work that one out…

2015 Race #1: Robbie Burns 8K Road Race, Burlington, Ontario

March 27, 2015April 8, 2015 / tmcfar1 / Leave a comment

Date: January 25, 2015
Gun Time: 35:38
Chip Time: 35:33
Placing Overall: 151st out of 1047
Placing in Age Group: 20th out of 67 (M40-44)
Theme Song: Modest Mouse, “Florida”

“Are you really gonna park there, in front of my driveway?” said the dude who had just popped out of his front door, like a Morlock from his hole.

I eyed the 3 inch sliver of bumper that was currently technically the obstruction in question and looked at him a little incredulously. Shrugging, I sauntered back over to my car’s driver side door, half expecting him to make the “I’m watching you” gesture of pointing to his eyes and then to me. I moved a comfortable distance down the street; it never pays to antagonize the Morlocks, I’ve learned.

Welcome to Burlington, apparently.

It was definitely one of those genital nip sort of days. Burlington in January tends to be about as charming a place as the wilds of Siberia. The mercury read -11C an hour before the race, and it wasn’t looking to get a whole lot warmer. A cutting wind from the northwest wasn’t helping matters.

Safely inside the gym at Burlington Central High School, I picked up my race kit (basically consisting of a short sleeved shirt with a grinning Scotsman in a kilt and running shoes adorning the front) and surveyed the other runners, who wore an eye watering assortment of plaid over their cold weather running gear. A group aptly named the “Tartan Tarts” went chattering past as I wondered idly what the immortal bard would have made of them.

Sadly, “Ode to a Haggis” was not part of the opening salvo of ceremonies, though of course the requisite skirling bagpipes were evident. A couple of too long announcements were made as we stood shivering behind the start line.

The gun went eventually, and unfortunately the cold led to me going out a bit too fast in an effort to warm up. I did the first mile in 6:30 and though I was feeling pretty good, I felt I had better slow things down a bit. A funny thing happened as the race progressed – I didn’t think it was possible for me to overdress for the conditions, but I did. About halfway through the race, I felt like I was overheating. I was wearing a poly/spandex full zip as my top layer, which I partly undid, but the layers underneath still seemed to be too warm.

Things got a little worse when I turned the corner into the last straightaway at the 6K mark and ran smack into that north-west wind. Worse still, this part of the course hadn’t really been properly salted or cleared, and I was having a hell of a lot of trouble finding my footing, which is a real pain in the ass when you’re at the end of a race and trying to maintain your pace while increasingly fatigued.

Nevertheless, in spite of the challenging conditions I managed to cross the line in 35:33, which was a PR, although I had done the distance faster in training. I was relatively happy with this, and it was fun hanging around the start line for a bit and watching some of the rather whimsically costumed participants reach the finish.

No haggis post-race either, but hot oatmeal (as I suppose befits a Scottish themed race) and the usual assortment of bananas and bagels. As a local band belted out vaguely Celtic songs (Great Big Sea, anyone?) and the medalists climbed the stage post-race to receive their due, I resisted (somehow) the urge to proclaim,

“Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face
Great chieftain of the puddin’ race!”

Because, of course, no one wants to be compared to a haggis, really.

As I drove home, my iPod shuffle rather shrewdly coughed up Modest Mouse’s Florida: “Even as I left Florida/Far enough, far enough, wasn’t far enough.” Appropriate given the location of my next races – but with my first half-marathon coming up I was left to hope that far enough would indeed be far enough.

Canadian Winters (and the Dubious Joys of Running in Them)

March 24, 2015April 10, 2015 / tmcfar1 / Leave a comment

Running in cold weather sucks.

I love my country, but with regard to my tolerance for the cold, the place of my birth sometimes seems like a bit of an unhappy accident. Let me be blunt: I hate the snow, I hate the freezing temperatures, I am not a winter sports person, and every day that goes by in the less salubrious months of the calendar here I pray for an end to the frigid horrors (which, I would surmise, makes me not unlike the vast majority of Canadians, if we’re being perfectly honest).

Now, the problem: I had just committed to myself that I was going to run the Rite Aid Cleveland Marathon in May, and thus the training, or at least part of it, was going to have to take place in the winter. I therefore had to steel myself for the eventuality of heading out in, shall we say, rather less than perfect conditions.

This, it soon transpired, created a few logistical problems. As a rather extreme and unfortunate example, I had never heard of genital nip before I started seriously running. It is not a comfortable experience. Apparently there are shorts with a special lining designed to ward off just such a circumstance. This is one of the things no one tells you about cold weather exercise. (So, guys – be warned.) Also, it’s difficult to prepare for the effort involved in running when there is deep icy slush on the roads. The first 10 mile run I put in was not only slow, but my hamstrings hurt for days afterward from the effort of just lifting my feet out of the frozen quagmire. Trying to pick one’s way down a road that is a solid sheet of ice is no fun either. Fortunately for me, I didn’t have any serious falls, but I certainly slipped a few times, and again, extra effort is required staying upright that saps one’s energy and resolve.

The alternative, of course, is staying inside on the hamster wheel. This is what I tended to do when the weather got really cold, or the roads were slippery enough that I just didn’t want to bother with them. The running community on the internet has lots of things to say about treadmill running, and just like most things there doesn’t seem to be any consensus about it. The most damning criticism leveled at the treadmill seems to be “it’s not the same as road running.” Well, duh. In January in Canada, it’s a hell of a lot warmer, for one thing. I realize that it’s not a good idea to train for road racing entirely on a treadmill, but I would never do this, or advocate doing it. I have, however, found that mixing treadmill runs in with outdoor ones has allowed me to get mileage in and reduce the amount of wear and tear from repetitive strain, since the impact is much lessened with the cushioning a treadmill provides versus a hard asphalt surface.

I’ve had a few fellow runners who seem to feel this is anathema, and their reasons usually boil down to the following: lack of wind resistance and road surface makes treadmill running too easy (that’s why I mix it up, and I still seem to be able to go pretty fast on my road runs), you run the risk of overstriding during speed workouts and ending up with hip flexor and hamstring pain (funny that, but my hip, hamstring, and shin pain got better when I started using the treadmill), and using a treadmill all the time will screw up your ability to innately find your pace in the road (last 12 miler I did on the road I set 8:15/mile for my goal pace and wound up running within 5-10 seconds of that for every single one of my mile splits – enough said).

As for dealing with the crushing boredom of doing a two-hour run on a treadmill – well, I still haven’t figured out a strategy for that yet. Suggestions are welcome.

We runners are a crazy lot, and I’ve still found myself out there when the weather is insane. I’m not alone. Exhibit A:

That’s fellow Cambridge Harrier Mitch Free, after one of his competitions this February (photo courtesy George Aitken). All in a day’s work in the Great White North…

From the Archives: Remember Run 8K, November 8th, 2014

February 24, 2015April 5, 2015 / tmcfar1 / Leave a comment

Gun Time: 37:06
Chip Time: 36:55
Placing Overall: 40th out of 253
Placing in Age Group: 6th out of 15 (M40-44)
Theme Song: The Beatles, “Getting Better”

All year long, my colleague Rachael had been gunning for me.

I know this because she told me so. We had both been in the Cambridge Mill race earlier in the year (bloody great hill at KM 6.5 and all, though this time I was a bit more judicious about how I started) and I had managed to run under 40 minutes, finishing at 39:55, a couple of minutes ahead of her. Apparently she was none too pleased about losing to Fat Dad and had used it as fodder for training all summer. Although to make it out as some kind of epic showdown was overstating the case a bit, we were both registered to run the Remember Run 8K, and I’m pretty sure one of her goals was to ensure that she vanquished the stink of the defeat by my corpulent self.

Thing was, Fat Dad was no longer really Fat Dad anymore. I was up to about 20 miles a week (legitimately, this time) and considerably less chunky. I was actually pretty optimistic about my chances in this one. The weather forecast initially was a bit terrifying, with the prospect of running 8K in freezing rain looming, but as it turned out the precipitation held off and the temps were around the 5 Celsius mark as we approached the start time, and winds were calm (pretty good running weather in my estimation). Dressed up in my new cold weather gear, including black Columbia beanie hat and gloves, I thought I looked pretty smart.

“You look like a burglar, Daddy,” my three year old daughter opined.

Sigh.

Any race that starts with a pipe band is pretty much OK by me. I figure it’s a vestige of my Scottish heritage asserting itself that I get all goosepimply when I hear that beautiful skirling sound. The race proceeds were going to the local Legion, and I thought of my grandfather and his effort in the war. Silently I dedicated the race to his memory.

So then the gun, and off I went. This was the first race where I actually felt good after the first couple of KM, like I was pacing myself properly. I even managed to smile at a camera a time or two, silly looking beanie and all. (The damn thing kept coming off and I ended up ditching it).

I got to the 5K mark and still had plenty of spring left in my step. This was rather new ground for me and I wasn’t sure quite what to do. Should I pick up the pace a little and try for negative splits? Was it too early to do this? I didn’t have a timing device on me so I wasn’t quite sure what my splits even were. I decided to stay the course for awhile and try to pick things up in the last couple of kilometers.

Soon it transpired that the woman who was running directly in front of me for most of the second half of the race was none other than my colleague Rachael. She did not look best pleased to see me pull up beside her, but nonetheless we exchanged slightly out of breath pleasantries. We passed the 7K mark and it was at this point that I decided to hell with it, time to charge to the finish. As I kicked it into a higher gear, a snarl came from behind me.

“Oh, no you don’t, buddy.”

I looked over in time to see Rachael power past me like a freight train. As I watched, amazed, she sprinted past me and around the corner to the last straightaway. I gave it my best shot at catching her, but it was not to be. Behold the vanquishing of Not Quite As Fat Dad:

I couldn’t begrudge her for this one. After all, she’d put a ton of work in just to beat me. And, she finished first in her age category. Also, I was really happy with my time, having shaved a full 3 minutes off my PR, which took some of the sting out of losing to her.

Just know this Rachael: next time that 8K comes around, Fat Dad’s gonna be waiting.

Fat Dad Gets Less Fat. With Shin Splints.

February 23, 2015April 5, 2015 / tmcfar1 / Leave a comment

Even though I was clearly overweight and hadn’t really done any formal exercise program since high school, I still had this weird notion that I was sort of in shape. After all, I could run 3 miles on the treadmill, right?

(An aside: actually 3 miles turned out to be not 3 miles. My treadmill runs 10% slow for some reason. I discovered this when I tried to run on a hotel treadmill on a business trip and almost got shot off the bloody end of the thing. I figured it was the hotel treadmill that was wrong. Then it happened again, and again, at different locations. Finally, I had to face the truth that mine was wonky.)

When I started to have trouble breathing last summer, I had several investigations done and nobody could find anything wrong. Echo, spirometry tests, CT scans, everything was fine. My doc sent me for a fitness assessment at a local physiotherapy place for completeness sake. On the surface I was all bravado about it, but underneath I think I knew it wasn’t going to go well.

I arrived at the physio clinic and was taken into a back area by a dude who kind of looked like Tony Little without the long, bleach-blond hair. He asked me a few questions, primarily about what my recent activity level had been.

“Actually, I’m a runner. I run 15-20 miles a week,” I boasted. (Totally not true, by the way, but I guess I must have felt particularly macho that day.)

“Oh, okay. I’m gonna get you to do a 3-minute step test then. You should have no problem with this at all,” said Almost Tony Little.

The 3-minute step test is basically exactly as it sounds. You step up and down on a foot-high bench at a 96 bpm pace. The test is intended to measure how quickly one’s heart rate returns to baseline afterward as an indicator of one’s aerobic fitness level.

“Huh,” said Almost Tony after I finished.

Shit. I didn’t like the sound of that “huh” one little bit.

“Am I scaring you or something? I must be, because your test results are below average,” he went on, rather smugly I thought. So much for machismo.

He then went on to measure my hip-to-waist ratio, and my flexibility, both of which also proved to be subpar. My old corpse seemed to be having a bad day. “We just need to get your lower body a bit stronger. You ought to do some squats,” Almost Tony advised solemnly.

I wished I had a little flag so I could wave it around. Squats, woo-hoo. Fantastic.

“And you know – it wouldn’t hurt to join a yoga class to work on that flexibility. Plus there are other fringe benefits, with the scenery and all.” He winked with both eyes weirdly.

Ummm, yeah. OK. Thanks Almost Tony.

Of course, I never did any squats. Nor did I run out and join any yoga classes with the intent of staring at women’s bottoms. Instead, I went home and railed to Lori about how inaccurate the step test was.

In the end, the breathing problems turned out to be 100% related to anxiety and not to anything physical. And I finally came to grips with the idea that maybe, just maybe, I needed to do something about my slovenly habits.

This was around the beginning of August 2014, and I pledged to myself that I was going to run at least 3 or 4 miles 3-4 times a week. Additionally, I ditched the booze for a whole month. Completely.

By October, I had lost 13 pounds, and the running was a lot easier. Unfortunately, a new problem had emerged. I had never really had issues with shin splints before (probably because one of the advantages of sitting on a couch all the time is that you don’t tend to get them), but suddenly the sharp pains along the sides of my shin bones in both legs had gotten bad enough that they were hampering my ability to go up and down stairs, much less run.

So, it was back to the internet, where I found about 50 different opinions on shin splints. Heel striking causes them. Not heel striking causes them. Weak calf muscles cause them. Overpronation causes them. Run with them wrapped, run with them taped, don’t run with them at all. And so on.

I did find out through a gait analysis that I overpronate (I tend to run slightly splay footed), so I bought some shoes to correct that. It didn’t seem to help much, so I added taping, icing, and elevation, and judicious use of anti-inflammatories to my routine. Eventually I got the pain down to the point where it was manageable. Changing my running schedule to try to avoid doing too much also helped.

The thing that wound up being the magic cure for me was compression stockings. I had a pair that I got as a sample at work and decided to give them a shot one day – and I couldn’t believe the difference they made. I never run without them on now.

Getting the pain in my lower legs dealt with was a huge part of my decision to go ahead with the marathon training. Now all I had to do was actually get started.

From the Archives: Cambridge Mill Race 8K, April 14, 2013

February 21, 2015April 5, 2015 / tmcfar1 / 1 Comment

Gun Time: 41:55
Chip Time: 41:55
Placing Overall: 70th out of 267 entrants
Placing in Age Group: 15th out of 27 (M 35-39)
Theme Song: Sloan, “Everything You’ve Done Wrong”

It all began with one of our volunteers at work asking me if I was a runner.

At the time, I hadn’t done anything competitive sports wise since my teens, other than the family softball tournament every summer which barely counts as exertion (and yet still managed to render me flabbily exhausted year after year). But, since I would from time to time haul my 20-pounds-overweight self onto a treadmill and churn out a couple of miles (mostly in a vain attempt to counter the caloric content of all the alcohol I was drinking), I of course puffed out my chest and replied that I was.

Good, she said, because the Cambridge Mill Race is next month and the proceeds are going to the hospital. You should sign up.

Cornered thusly, I agreed to do so, figuring my fitness level wasn’t that bad.

Of course, the fact that I capitulated didn’t inspire me to do anything different, at least not really. I might have done a couple of extra 15 minute sessions on the hamster wheel, but I think I felt at the time that my ancient history as a runner and my natural athleticism (snort) would pull me through the event. The fact that the Cambridge Mill, a rather swank local restaurant, was catering the post-race meal admittedly played a large part in my decision to enter. That should give you a pretty good idea of where my head was.

The day dawned cool and overcast, and after watching the kids burn through the 1K fun run, Fat Dad trotted to the starting corral to give it his best shot. I began the race lined up right at the start line with, you know, those guys who could actually run. And dammit, at the gun I shot forward like a paunchy cheetah after an overdose of amphetamines. I held my own against those guys.

For two blocks. You can likely guess what happened next.

I remember getting to the 2K marker and thinking “Holy shit. I may have made a slight miscalculation here.” The gasping for breath was what clued me in, along with the rapidly slowing pace and wanting to puke.

Thankfully for me, this part of the course was fairly flat, so aside from the ignominy of being passed repeatedly by, like, everyone, I was able to gut out the next 3K or so. Eventually, I looked around and realized a former student of mine had come up beside me. He was a very respectful young guy I had always enjoyed teaching, as well as an ex-military man. Our conversation went something like this:

Him: “Hey, Dr. M, how’s it going?”
Me: (Unintelligible gasping reply)
Him: “Good day for a run, huh? Not too hot. Lori and the kids here?”
Me: (More gasping)
Him: “Well, have a good race!”
Me (thinking): Please don’t throw up in front of him. Oh god, please don’t throw up.

Off he headed, and I was alone once again with my hubris.

Then, at 6.5K, another horror. Someone put a huge hill in the middle of the course. It really wasn’t that huge, but it seemed like fucking K2 was between me and the finish line at the time. All I could think of was “Who the fuck put THAT fucking thing there?” I may have cursed their descendants to be visited with the fleas of a thousand camels as well, I don’t really remember.

On the heels of that was the thought, “I am NOT walking.”

Anyhow, somehow I dug deep and slowly made my way to the top, and eventually hauled myself across the finish line. The kids, unconcerned, piled on me, little realizing how close Daddy was to a crippling coronary. Here’s a great shot of Fat Dad in the throes of agony:

The funny thing is, once I recovered, and realized all the mistakes I made, I realized how much I missed the competition. My time wasn’t all that bad (though the race itself nearly killed me). It was the start of something, although I do remember thinking at some point during the race that anything beyond 10K was going to be impossible for me. It was only later that I would learn the value of preparation and would realize that , indeed, more was not only possible, but inevitable.

Running the great lakes

Running in the Great Lakes Region. And Elsewhere.

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