Newton North Opens Its Doors

The Boston Globe has a front page article today on the new Newton North High School. As I type this, the ribbon-cutting ceremony to formally open the school is just minutes away.

Predictably, the article mostly rehashes the history of the expensive and controversial project, but also quotes current students, including football and track standout Isaiah Penn.

I can only imagine it will be a huge relief for the athletic teams to have a home again. There's certainly a thrill in using a new facility, but I'm finding myself feeling a little nostalgic about not having those crumbling stadium steps as a background to our track workouts.

Speaking of the Fall season, I notice that Newton North's web site still doesn't have schedule info for 2010. HighSchoolSports.net comes to the rescue and informs me that the Tigers open their season Wednesday, 9/15, with a meet against Dedham (and Framingham, too, I assume).

Weekend of American Records

Hard not to mention David Rudisha's new WR in the 800, or Alan Webb's first win in... well, a long time, but we're going instead with the two American records set in two meets this weekend.

Molly Huddle Runs 5000m AR 14:44.76

Should we have seen this coming?

Molly Huddle, who had never before this year run faster than 15:17 for 5000m, improved on what has already been a breakthrough summer by running 14:44.76 Friday night in Brussels, dipping under Shalane Flanagan's old American Record by 0.04. The time was seven seconds faster than she ran in July and the third time she has run under 15:00 this year.

Many people have mentioned that the time placed her only 10th in a race won in 14:34.13 by Vivian Cheruiyot. It's true that the American Record is well off what would be considered top flight on a world stage, and more than 30 seconds slower than Tirunesh Dibaba's world record of 14:11.

I don't care about that. Huddle is deserving, having managed the transition from high school phenom to a fine career at Notre Dame (nine-time All-American) and now to pro. She has been competing at a high level for a long time, and has put it all together this year. It's what every runner wants.

In her Flotrack interview (see below), Huddle says being healthy and being consistent made the difference. I found this comment to be particularly interesting...

"...now I know that the training doesn't have to be spectacular and kill you, it just has to be consistent. That's a good thing to learn..."



Footnote: Huddle will celebrate her 26th birthday on August 31, the same day that Lisa Koll turns 23.


Lagat Gets American 3000m Record

This Tariku Bekele kid is pretty good. Any time any American runs great, it seems Bekele is front of him crossing the finish line. Bernard Lagat became the latest guy to run a great time but not get a top spot on the podium as he ran 7:29.00 for 3000m to take down Bob Kennedy's venerable record.

Lagat bounced back from a sub-par 1500 and showed he's still the man to beat. There were three other Americans in the race, including Chris Solinsky, but Lagat was better again, as Solinsky's personal best 7:34.32 was only good enough for 5th. Someone correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure Solinsky has not beaten Lagat at any distance this season. He came the closest in Oslo, when Lagat set the 5000M AR and Solinsky ran 12:56 for the first time. (Bekele beat both of them in that race, too...)

Steeplechaser Dan Huling also ran a PB 7:46.97. Galen Rupp struggled, running 7:50.46.

I Am My Own Walkman

Self-appointed guardians of the purity of running (like me) might cringe at the thought, but for a large number of recreational joggers, iPods and MP3 players constitute essential running equipment, as important, if not more so, than their stylish Reeboks and Mizunos.

As a rule, I think it's safe to say that serious runners are less likely to motivate themselves during a run with their favorite playlists. This generalization makes it somewhat easy to dismiss runners with music players as a different breed; who cares what's playing through their earbuds? There are exceptions, however. Many years ago, I ran a few times with Alex Tilson, an ultra runner who in 2002 set an American Record 2:51:48 for 50K. I remember him hammering out 20-mile tempo runs on a 400m track, headphones on his head providing the soundtrack to his personal descent through successive circles of Hell -- er, I mean his training.

Obviously, he was no lightweight. So maybe it is worth asking how music affects running performance and our motivation/willingness to keep going in the face of mounting fatigue. A recent article in The New York Times discusses recent research into these questions.

Does Music Make You Exercise Harder?

In the study, published last year by a team of British researchers, volunteers performed moderate exercise on a stationary bicycle while listening to unspecified contemporary music. The researchers varied the tempo of the music -- the same music -- and measured the work output and subjective sensations of the volunteers. What they found was that the cyclists were more likely to work harder and enjoy the experience more when the music was played faster. The fast music seemed to be linked to their motivation level in a fairly direct way, and that enabled them to work harder and longer.

Even if real, this effect might be limited to moderate exercise. The article also cites a 2004 study that showed that when participants ran at 90% of V02 Max, music was no benefit physiologically. In this study, about a third of the runners liked the music, but it didn't help them to do more.

It almost makes me want to try the experiment on myself, but I find myself hesitant because -- well, I've always thought that music was a crutch for people who didn't like running and were trying to convince themselves they were doing something else. I LIKE running. When I'm plodding along, I LIKE to pay attention to how I feel, even when I feel less than stellar. The stream of thoughts in my head usually serves as all the motivation I need to keep pushing through the daily run.

Which raises an interesting possibility. Maybe runners have developed an alternate "channel" that they can tune to that serves the same purpose as motivational music, a kind of "workout radio" that serves up a steady stream of observations, memories, and self talk that keeps the interest level high. Included are fantasies about running in the Olympics, surging to drop a pack of rivals, out-kicking Bekele, that sort of thing...

Music is all right I guess, but I think I'll stick with what's already playing in my head.

Rudisha's Run

During the introductions, the other competitors in the 800 all respond to the camera shoved in their face. Leo Manzano waggles his finger in a "we're number 1" kind of way. Jackson Kivuva gives a sharp salute. Alfred Yego looks like he's about to give some odd Nairobi gang sign, and then thinks better of it and cups his hands over his face. Adam Kszczot thumps himself on either side of the chest. Boaz Lalang waves both fingers. Then the camera moves to the man in Lane 7, David Rudisha. His face is set in a mask of grim purpose, and it never changes. When his name is announced, he raises his arms to acknowledge the crowd, but he does not smile. This is a serious man on a serious errand. He knows full well that to accomplish his errand, he must be prepared to suffer, and he is prepared.

By now, you've probably watched the video of Rudisha breaking the 800m world record, eclipsing by two-hundredths of a second Wilson Kipketer's 1:41.11 from August 1997. Until this year, when Rudisha ran 1:42.04 at Bislett and then 1:41.51 at Huesden, it seemed like one of the more remote records in track, out there where few would even challenge it.

Watching Rudisha's run, there's something strangely inevitable about the way he seizes the race and charges through the invisible barriers standing in the way of a new record. Starting from the aforementioned Lane 7, he accelerates powerfully but without panic to the top of the back straight. At that point, he is sixth. He then uses the entire straight to dismiss all the runners but one, the rabbit, Sammy Tangui, who appears to hit 200m in 24-flat.

This, of course, is where every instinct tells the runner to ease off the pace, to save a little something, for God's sake, for the rigors to come. But up ahead Tangui is driving himself without letting up, beginning to thrash against the air to maintain pace, while Rudisha follows a few meters back. It seems a long way back to the rest of the field, which might as well be the rest of the world.

Tangui barely makes it to 450m. For a few moments you wonder if is going to stumble, but just in time he drifts to Lane 2 where he is safely out of the way. Rudisha, having passed 400m in about 49-flat, is keeping his appointment with the hurt now, driving himself down the backstretch, three seconds clear of his nearest mortal competitors, and a few tenths of a second ahead of Kipketer's 13-year-old ghost.

At the end of the straight, Rudisha passes 600m in 1:14.54. There's still a long way to go, the curve and then the agonizing straight. The meters stretch out ahead, giving the serious man every opportunity to slow down, to be just a fraction too late at the end. How terrible it would be to arrive and find Kipketer already waiting for him, telling him it was good, very good, but not quite enough. I wonder whether Kipketer felt that way, when he equaled, but did not break, Coe's world record, or did he know that he would have it, in the end?

Rudisha's stride remains long and smooth, slowing slightly, inexorably, as the lactic acid makes it more and more difficult to lift the knees. Still, he has come too far not to be strong, and strong he remains until his strength and momentum carry him across the finish line, stopping the fully-automatic timing equipment at 1:41:09.

Still he does not smile, not yet. But so glad to have it over. A few seconds later, Tangui tracks him down and gives him a hug, and then, finally, he begins to experience the joy of what he has done.

Waiting for the Breakthrough

It's human nature to be impatient as you wait for all your hard work to pay off.

Here you are, nearing the end of summer and looking back at week after week of high mileage. Oh sure, there were a few interruptions - slight injuries that forced you to back off a bit -- but the body of work has been submitted and it is not paltry.

The beginning was hot and humid, worse than anything we had in New England last summer, but you adapted to the conditions, seeking the woods... running late in the evening. By mid-July, the worst was over and the sweltering heat gave way to day after day of perfectly pleasant temperatures. You settled into the routine.

You watched the professional runners in Europe and thought about the races you would run in the fall. Maybe that added a little extra inspiration as you went out each day on legs that weren't completely recovered from the previous day's exertions.

So... when does it all translate into your own breakthrough race?

The hard truth is that no one can tell you with certainty when it will come. Maybe the first race, maybe the third, maybe not this season. As unfair as it seems, training operates on its own mysterious timetable. John L. Parker famously wrote that conditioning was "a geometrical spiraling upwards," with each spin taking you a different distance up... or even down, gathering momentum for the next upswing. In somewhat less mystical terms, I believe that the initial adaptation to training is simply to raise your average work capacity, noticed first as an enhanced ability to recover from hard efforts and only (sometimes much) later as the ability to drop awesome times.

Yes, yes, but when will you see all that translated into a personal best, a sub-17:00 5K or sub 25:00 8K? A place on the varsity?

Ah, well...that I don't know. Even the best coaches hesitate to say when everything will come together -- mind and much fitter body -- to enable that ascent to the new, higher plateau that you've been yearning for. Training is science, certainly, but it is also faith, or at least patience. Training works, but more often by simmering for many months or years, not by boiling in an instant.

I know it's hard not to be eager for results. Distance running is one long exercise in delayed gratification. We train a long time to be able to gallop over a five-mile cross-country course at such a breakneck pace. Having done all that training, it would be nice to reap the rewards now. But if that first race or time trial doesn't provide the proof you seek, if it's not the breakthrough you were hoping for, don't despair. If you have trained well, trust your training and known that you've laid a good foundation. After that, all you can do is stay healthy and accept the burden of continuing to ready yourself for the breakthrough that must, eventually and when you least expect it, come.

Solinsky

Last night at the Zurich Weltklasse meet, Chris Solinsky went head-to-head with the best (healthy) 5000m runners on the planet and looked every bit like a contender.

There was a time not long ago when Galen Rupp's 13:07 personal best would have been big news and cause for optimism about the future of American distance running. But these are new days, and Tegenkamp, Ritzenheim, and especially Solinsky have raised the bar way higher.

Solinsky, especially, has establish a new plateau that would have seemed unthinkable even last year. He set the American record and ran the fastest 10,000m time in the world this year. He has run 12:56 once and 12:55 twice this summer, and owns three of the top sixteen times in the world this year. Were it not for former world champ Bernard Lagat's 12:54 at Oslo, Solinsky would have the AR at 5000 to add to his AR at 10000.

And because he's not satisfied, neither are we. Solinsky's quotes after Zurich make it clear that he didn't care about the time; he wanted to win the race. He didn't want to settle being 3rd best in the world. He didn't want to settle for giving Diamond League winner Imane Merga everything he could handle in the last 100m, he wanted to beat him, and Keninisa's little brother, too.

But he beat all ten Kenyans who finished the race, including...

Eliud Kipchoge (PR 12:45)
Vincent Chepkok (PR 12:51)
Edwin Soi (PR 12:52)
Lucas Rotich (PR 12:55)

For good measure, he beat Mo Farah the European champion, who "only" ran 12:57 to set a new U.K. record, besting Dave Moorcroft's 28-year-old standard.

Based on times, Solinsky has just completed the greatest 5000m season in American history. But, as he reminds us, he didn't win anything, and he won't be happy until he does.

As for Rupp, let's not forget about or dismiss him. In 2010, he has run PRs at one mile, 3000m (indoor and out), 5000m (indoor and out), and 10,000m. He still has the fourth fastest 10K time in the world this year (in a race where he set the pace in the latter stages). He has had a long, productive year. Time to rest and regroup and come back next year to run sub 27 and sub 13.

It's a little more than a year until the 2011 world championships in Daegu, South Korea, but these guys have us dreaming of medals.

Final Week of NSRP

This week marks the final week of the 2010 Newton Summer Running Project, affectionately known as NSRP. Wednesday, August 18 will be the official finale, i.e., the last day that I'm planning on showing up.

Thanks to all the runners who have shown up to share a little bit of their summer training. The miles go by quickly when you have good company.

Good luck to everyone heading off to pre-season or a fall marathon. I'll be checking results to see how all those summer miles have paid off.

Race Report: Bridge of Flowers 10K

The town of Shelburne Falls, Mass. (pop. 1951) doesn't seem like an obvious site for a big race, but it has the distinction of being home to the Bridge of Flowers 10K, an annual tradition that dates back to 1979. This year, the race was named the 2010 USATF-NE 10K road race championship. Although the name brings to mind pictures of smiling runners striding happily along bucolic country lanes, do not be fooled; this race is an absolute bear.

As it was a championship race, many runners from my club drove the two hours or so from Boston to compete. Terry, Kevin, and I chose to spend Friday night in Amherst, so we didn't need to leave quite so early, but by 7:30 Saturday morning we had joined the Westbound caravan of runners' cars driving along the Mohawk Trail to be in time for the 9:00 a.m. start.

I was more than a little apprehensive about the race. I knew the course was tough, with a legendary hill that wrecked the unwary, and I didn't feel race-ready, having struggled through months of desultory training that lacked both intensity and focus. My last race had been a month ago at the Stowe 8-Miler and it had not been encouraging.

But if the course was cause for worry, at least the weather was not. It was just a perfect day, with temperatures barely brushing 70, and dry air that seemed uncharacteristic of August in New England. Had there not been a race on the calendar, it would have been a lovely day to visit the town, take a stroll along the banks of the Deerfield River, take pictures of the famous Bridge of Flowers, and sit at an outdoor cafe to enjoy a scone and a leisurely cup of tea in this quaint town.

There was no time for any of that when we arrived a little over an hour before the race. Instead, we were immediately caught up in the familiar but anxious routine that -- if all goes well -- will get us to the starting line on time and ready to run. It begins with following the traffic that is descending on a tiny neighborhood never designed for the vehicles carrying a thousand runners from far off places, continues with those same runners standing in lines for race numbers and bathrooms (I skipped the former for the latter), shifts to the relative calm of a 20-minute warmup jog that doubles as a reconnaissance mission (to the base of the dreaded hill and back), and ends with the ritualistic change into racing flats for a few strides and a jog to the start, which is located on a steel bridge that crosses the river.

Once at the start, I make small talk with Gordon, who will go on to win the over-60 division and lock up the New England series championship for his age group. I ask him if he has run the course before and he says that he has, and reminds me that it was a championship race two years ago. I skipped that race for some reason, and for a moment, I feel a kind of abstract satisfaction that I am finally going to experience a race that has been a fixture on the New England calendar for over three decades and that has a reputation for being 1-2 minutes slower than a "normal" 10K.

After the singing of the Star-Spangled Banner, the race starts without a gun, but rather with a strange sound that escapes me now I try to remember it. Was it sleigh bells? Wind chimes? All I know now is that I am part of the crowd that surges awkwardly forward, trying to untangle itself as we pull away from the narrow start. It helps that the course immediately heads slightly uphill, and gradually I progress from a a jog to a careful run, and finally to full race pace, which in my case is about six-minute miles. I try to control my urge to jockey for position (the road is still very narrow) and I run without any sense of urgency or ambition. The one mile split is 6:05, which seems perfectly ok given the slight uphill. Still, my legs don't feel at all fresh, and I don't have the feeling of having to hold myself back, which typically signals a good race for me.

The second mile is gently downhill as we complete the small loop of what will eventually turn out to be a misshapen figure eight. We pass back over the bridge and turn left and then right onto Clement Street, a preliminary climb that provides a preview of the massive Crittendon Hill to come. According to MapMyRun, the course elevation at this point (1.9 miles into the race) is 433 feet above sea level. Here's a rule of thumb: when describing a course, if it's necessary to use the phrase "elevation above sea level," the race is not for wimps.

For some reason, I have it stuck in my mind that the hill is a half-mile long. This turns out to be a serious underestimate. The road rises steeply from 1.9 miles to 2.6 miles, and takes another 0.2 miles to crest. The grade averages 8.3% for those steep seven tenths of a mile, and there is one 400 meter section that exceeds 11%. All-in-all, the course climbs over 360 feet in less than a mile.

The effect on me in the race is a rapid series of adjustments to my estimate of the right pace. At the bottom of the hill, I try to keep my strides very short and quick and efficient. After 200 meters of this, I settle for short and efficient. I'm no longer aiming for "quick." After another 200 meters, I'm trying hard to keep my head from sagging to my chest and I'm adjusting my stride to make it shorter -- anything to ease the alarming distress I'm feeling in my quads. Again and again, I realize I am running too quickly and will not be able to reach the top without slowing down. Mid-way up the hill I am still able to take a little pleasure in the distress I see (and hear) from the runners around me, but as we approach the crest of the hill, I am thinking only of myself and how I have to keep moving my feet forward, without giving in to the strong desire to walk.

The end of the hill comes with a small fanfare; someone is playing an cajun music on an accordion. It's a small, but generous gesture that is, alas, wasted on me. I am way too busy at the moment wondering when my legs will begin functioning normally again so that I can lengthen my stride to take advantage of the long downhill. This is the part of the race that will produce soreness tomorrow, this long, ungainly descent on already tiring muscles. It's a long way down the hill, and my form is a mess. I neither gain ground on the runners around me nor lose any. It's as if we're all trapped on a circus ride, never changing our relative position, but no longer enjoying the fun.

Later, I'll review my splits for the race and they'll look like this:

Mile 1 - 6:05
Mile 2 - 5:52
Mile 3 - 7:34
Mile 4 - 5:34
MIle 5 - 6:02
Mile 6 - 5:49

What this doesn't tell is that Mile 4 feels tremendously costly. Although it is fast, it pounds the life out of my legs. When I hit the flat stretch at the bottom of the hill, I'm struggling to maintain a rhythm. Nothing feels smooth at this point, and instead of setting out to catch the pack in front of me, I am drifting back and fair game for the runners behind. I am a little disappointed when I hit the five mile mark and realize I haven't even been running my six-minute pace.

Into the last mile of the race, and I am caught by a pack of runners who drag me along for a while. With a half mile to go, I start feeling competitive again, but I am also unsure whether I can handle another uphill. In a good race, I feel like I know exactly how much road is left and how much energy I have to expend. But in this final 1000 meters, I'm making it up as I go along, feeling like I can push it for a 100 meters and then feeling like I have to back off because I'm about to crash. The course rolls its way down, back to the river. I begin a final push and pass the six mile mark in 36:54 before seeing the final turn that leads onto the bridge and the final sprint to the line.

I'm not holding anything back now, but I can tell I'm not going to catch the guy in front of me who is a couple of seconds ahead. Then, suddenly and shockingly, two runners pass me on either side just a few meters before the mat that records our finishing time. In the results, we will all be given the same time - 38:06, but I will be relegated to third. Worse, I know I'll be replaying that finish in my head for the next several weeks wondering if I had known they were there, could I have run any harder to hold them off?

After the race I am spent. The time is slow, and I lost out in the sprint.

Terry ran very well, finishing in 36:16. He ran the first half of the race very smart, and took good advantage of the downhill second half to catch people. Kevin also ran massively negative splits and finishes not far behind me in 38:47. We're all going to be sore tomorrow, especially after the long drive home with stiffening muscles.

Sizing up the race, I think I ran it ok, but clearly was not in shape for the challenges it posed. Uphills like Crittendon Hill are intense and require better force production than I had (showing my current lack of "strength" work), Likewise, downhills require more muscle strength and core strength to stabile the body during free fall. Bottom line: the course beat me up.

But it's good to get beat up sometimes if it motivates you to work harder where you're weak. While I don't expect to run any more road races like the Bridge of Flowers 10K this year, cross-country is just around the corner and it's nice to have a motivator to get me running harder workouts, hill repeats, etc. -- at least that's the plan as soon as the ice packs come off my quads.

Coming off the bridge at 1.8 miles, just before the hill. (Photo: Tom Derderian)

Read This: The View From Lane 9

I was thinking about writing something after the latest Diamond League meet in Stockholm, but Noah Jampol has not only beaten me to it, but done a much better job than I would have done. It's one of the first posts on his new blog, The View From Lane 9.

Anyone who has talked to Noah for any length of time knows that he is a keen observer and careful analyst, whether the subject is track & field, basketball, baseball, economics, or politics. It's great to see him sharing his observations, and I look forward to reading more as the track season continues.

New NNHS Track Open For Business

On Tuesday evening, Noah Jampol (who always seems to know things before anyone else) ran a track workout. What made this one a little special was that he ran it on the new Newton North H.S. track, a brand-new six-lane mondo track that sits serenely between the new and the old Newton North high schools.

On Wednesday, our NSRP group planned our run to include a lap of the new track so we could see the new facility for ourselves. It's pretty sweet. And having run exactly one lap on it, it seems very fast.

The track is oriented North-South and is narrower than the old track. As Noah commented, the straights are almost a full 100 meters, which should result in some dramatic come-from-behind charges in the final 10-20 meters. There are low aluminum bleachers on the East side of the track -- much less dramatic than the stands of the old stadium. No one will be running stadium steps there, that's for sure.

The track seems very sheltered from the wind right now, but that could change once the old school comes down. For now, it feels like the track is well protected, but we'll see.

I wonder whether Noah's was the first real workout on the new track. probably not, but if he wants to make a claim, I won't dispute it. It leads one to think about all the other "firsts" that we'll hear about: first runner to win a race on the new track, first school record... Thinking of teams and athletes past, we also found ourselves wondering who would be the first athlete to lose their lunch during or after a particularly brutal workout.

Staying the Distance

In his 1958 story, "Staying the Distance," William R. Loader describes a fictional 5000m race held at White Stadium in London, the final event of a dual meet between England and the USSR. The race is expected to be a two-man contest between the challenger -- an accomplished British international -- and the world-record holder, a Russian of steely disposition whose primary race tactic is to set a cruel pace from the beginning and then destroy his opponents with pitiless surges. Into this mix is thrown another man, a young unheralded British runner who changes the course of the race.

It's a great story, inspired, perhaps, by real-life events of a few years earlier when Chris Chataway ran a 5000m world record to score an upset over the great Vladimir Kuts in what the BBC called "one of the most remarkable races seen on a British track."

Loader's story was republished in "The Runner's Literary Companion," and still makes for great reading. From the description of the stadium full of 40,000 fans, to the perspective of the vast Telly audience watching from their homes, to the breathless, spontaneous excitement of the commentators, it describes a collective experience that makes even weekend warriors want to go out and run to the point of collapse and then throw everything into a life-or-death sprint.

I thought of this story today as I read accounts of Britain's triumph in the 10K at the European Championships. After not having a single runner in the final four years ago, the Brits got gold and silver from Mo Farah and Chris Thompson. A story by Tom Fordyce describes the careers of the two men to this point, and revels in an accomplishment that very well may inspire a new generation of U.K. distance runners.

I haven't seen video of the race, but reports say that the British announcers went wild as the final lap unfolded. I wondered then about what's missing from the coverage of so many meets by U.S. television. Where are the great announcers -- the ones with a sense of history, the ones who give voice to the rising excitement of great races, whose words are not just the prepared remarks of non-fans who don't follow the sport or have memories for the great moments of the past? Watching old races on YouTube, you have to love the British announcers. Hell, even listening to the Finnish announcers calling Viren's victories in the '72 and '76 Olympics in Finnish beats anything I've ever heard from American commentators.

As happy as I am for Farah and Thompson and their British fans, I'm jealous. In the past few years, we have witnessed a renaissance for American middle and long-distance running, both men and women. How long do we have to stay the distance waiting for an announcer who can give voice to our greatest inspirations?

Results from KBC Nacht meet: Rudisha Runs 1:41.51!!

The day before the World Cup final, it would be understandable if Dutch sports fans had their minds on something other than athletics. Nevertheless, the KBC Nacht meet in Heusden had plenty of excitement.

The most impressive result was David Rudisha's time of 1:41.51 in the 800. Running behind two pace maker through a first lap of 49.xx, Rudisha went through 600 in a reported 1:14.5, and stayed strong in the home stretch to become the second-fastest man ever at 800m, trailing only world-record holder Wilson Kipketer. The video of the race is well worth watching:



Newton North fans will take note that Chris Barnicle ran a very solid 13:42.17 to take 5th in the "B" heat of the 5000m, just ahead of former MA rival Sean Quigley. This was Barnicle's second race in a series of races in Europe. On Saturday July 3rd he placed 5th in the 3000 at the Cork City Sports meet in Cork, Ireland in a time of 8:07.0.

Can't We All Just Get Along

Tempers flared on the mean streets of West Newton a week ago, perhaps fueled by the heat and humidity. The story of an altercation between a motorist and a jogger was reported in the Crime Watch section of the Newton Tab:

Jogger rocks out, chucks rock

"A woman reported a rock-throwing jogger on July 1. The woman told police she was turning on to Albemarle Road from North Street when a jogger ran out in front of her car, causing her to slam on the brakes. The woman reportedly yelled at the jogger to take the earplugs out of his ear. The jogger reportedly responded and picked up a rock, throwing it at the woman. He missed her and the car. After throwing the rock, the jogger reportedly went down North Street toward Crafts Street. The jogger was described as a balding white man with blue eyes and fair skin."

Now the first thing I want to say is that this wasn't me. I'm not balding (yet), and I've never run with headphones in my life. It's hazardous to your health!

But this particular intersection is one I run through very often. I have a nice seven-mile loop that follows the Charles River for quite a ways before turning onto North Street for several blocks. Unlike the jogger (and like the motorist), I turn right onto Albemarle, rather than continue straight to Crafts Street.

If I didn't know the route so well, I'd think the jogger was just being an idiot, but the motorist (the only witness to the incident whose point of view we have) must have been completely oblivious to the situation, if not negligent. The jogger must have been running South -- either on the sidewalk or on the street. The car must have been driving the same direction, overtaking the jogger just before making the right-hand turn onto Albemarle. Happily headphoned, the jogger would never have heard the car coming up from behind and blithely began to cross Albemarle. The driver began turning and had to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting the jogger as he crossed in front of her.

In other words, they were both at fault.

No runner should EVER assume that the coast is clear, or that a car is going to stop. As Ethan Coen writes in his great poem "The Drunken Driver Has the Right of Way"...

It’s only the naivest who’ll
Deny this, that the reckless rule;
When facing an oncoming fool
The practiced and sagacious say
Watch out — one side — look sharp — gang way.

However much you plan and pray,
Alas, alack, tant pis, oy vey,
Now — heretofore — til Judgment Day,
The drunken driver has the right of way.


But at the same time, for God's sake, motorists, take care to notice the pedestrians and cyclists that you're overtaking when you make a right hand turn and don't assume that they'll stop and look both ways every time they cross a small intersection.

As for the rock-throwing, well that's definitely a no-no. Rocks are for rabid dogs, not oblivious drivers. Remember, a car is a much more dangerous weapon than any rock.

Famous Formula Reveals Another Flaw

A 16-year study of 5,500 healthy women that examined the link between abnormal heart rate response and the cardiovascular disease has produced a major correction to a decades-old formula for calculating maximum heart rate.

The correction is the subject of an article in today's New York Times, Recalibrated Formula Eases Women's Workouts
. According to the researchers, the standard formula for predicting maximum heart rate, 220 minus age, is significantly off for women. The corrected formula is 206 minus (age * 0.88).

For a woman training at 85% of her supposed max heart rate, the new formula generates a rate nearly ten beats per minute less than the old formula, a very noticeable difference in effort!

But beyond the fact that the old male-biased formula has been used for forty years to make training recommendations for women, the real problem is that the old formula is no good for men either. Or, to be more precise, since the old formula was based on averages, it didn't account for individual variation. It turns out that individuals have very different heart rates, both in untrained and trained populations.

The article quotes Tim Church, an exercise researcher at the Pennington Biomedical Research center in Baton Rouge, who echoes my thoughts when he writes:

"Except for elite athletes heart rate monitoring is not very useful and can distract from finding an exercise program you enjoy and will stick to. Everyone kind of has their own natural pace. If you like to work a little harder, then work harder. If you like to work less hard but a little longer, then do that. Find what works for you."

Kaki Takes Aim At 1000m Record

On Saturday Eugene, Oregon hosts the 36th Prefontaine Classic at Hayward Field. The meet will be part of IAAF's Diamond League series of world-class meets, and NBC is scheduled to cover portions of the meet live, beginning at 1:30 p.m. Pacific time. We can only hope that the coverage is not too dreadful.

The distance events are absolutely loaded with talent. The Bowerman mile is set to feature seven of the top ten milers in the world this year, and the top four from last year's world championships. The 5000m is also deep, and everyone is waiting to see whether Chris Solinsky can scare Bernard Lagat's new American record. Suddenly, anything less than sub-13:00 for the top American seems pretty routine. How things have changed in a year!

But just as intriguing was the announcement from Sudan's Abubaker Kaki that he will be attempting to improve on Noah Ngeny's 11-year-old world record of 2:11.96 in the 1000m. The 21-year-old Kaki recently ran 1:42.23 in Oslo to become the fifth fastest two-lap runner in history. In that race, he was edged out by Kenya's David Rudisha, who ran 1:42.04.

According to a story in the Eugene Register-Guard, the plan is for OTC Elite’s Matt Scherer to set a pace of 1:18 through the first 600 meters, and for Khadevis Robinson to bring Kaki through 800 in 1:45. Kaki's coach is quoted as saying about the record attempt that “If anybody has a chance, it’s Kaki. Once he ran 1:42, we realized he’s in better shape than we thought, and he’s going to go for it. He will be blazing from the very start.”

I don't want to be a wet blanket, but I think Kaki's chances are remote. For one thing, the best 1000m times have generally come from runners who were among the best in the world at the 1500/mile. Seb Coe, who held the record prior to Ngeny for nearly two decades was a double gold medalist at 1500 and had a 3:29 1500 and 3:47 1500 to his credit. Ngeny is the second fastest miler in history, having run 3:43.40 behind Hicham El Gerrouj's world record. Next on the list and the only other man to run faster than 2:13 is Steve Cram, who owns a 3:46 mile and 3:29 1500. Although one could argue that Kaki could run a great 1500/mile if he focused on it, the fact remains that his lifetime best at the 1500 is 3:39.71.

The point is that it takes a great deal of speed endurance to extend a 1:45 800m by another 200m at sub-27s pace. Kaki's 800 PR is still nearly half a second slower than Coe's, and he has nothing like Coe's endurance. As for Ngeny, well, he didn't run the 800 often and his PR was only 1:44.49 but he had superb speed endurance over 1500 and 2000 meters.

The other thing that occurs to me is that Kaki seems to be setting up the race to be a relatively even-paced effort. But if the splits quoted above are accurate, they'll be fatal to any record attempt. If the pace through 600m is 1:18 (26s per 200) and the pace through 800 is 1:45 (27s), I think there's no way Kaki will speed up in the final 200m. Both Coe and Ngeny set their records by going out hard and hanging on -- relying on their superior ability to maintain pace, rather than counting on a late acceleration that is virtually impossible at those speeds.

Here's YouTube video of Ngeny's world record. The pacemaker hits 49.66 for 400m, approx 1:17 for 600m, and Ngeny goes through 800m at 1:44.62, then holds on with a 27.34. I might add that if this whole discussion seems a bit dry and academic, watch the video and appreciate how fast 50s/1:17 pace really is!



In Coe's world record from 1981, he also went out very fast. I've been searching for his splits from that race and haven't found them, but I remember reading that after a fast start, his split for 800m was well under 1:45.

Finally, Ngeny made multiple attempts at the 1000m record before running under 2:12. Kaki has a personal best of 2:13.93 in 2008, but otherwise he hasn't run the distance much. He must believe that the record is achievable, and that he has a better chance to get it than to get the 800 record or 1500 record on either side. I suppose that's true, but the 1000m is not soft. Nourredine Morceli and Steve Cram tried and failed to beat Coe's record. Perhaps El Guerrouj could have come closer had he focused on it, but he didn't and it has survived for 11 years.

So all things considered, my money is on Ngeny holding on to his record for now.

Six Months, But Who's Counting?

This afternoon I'll head over to Cold Springs Park around 6:00 p.m. and at some point after that, I'll go for a run. I might have company -- there will be lots of other folks there -- or I might just run on my own, since most of the NSRP guys run a lot faster than I do now. But anyway, I'll go for a run, then I'll go home and write down the modest mileage in my training log.

The only reason I mention it is that it is the last day of June, and that means that we are approximately halfway through 2010, and so far there are no "0"s in my training log. Out of boredom, I guess, or a desire to have some sort of modest goal for myself in my advancing old age, I decided to make it a point to run every day in January. As I feared, this project took on a life of its own and I now I find myself with a six month + six day running streak that shows no sign of relaxing its grip.

I hasten to add that I don't consider this any kind of significant achievement. It's really just an exercise in following through on what was essentially an arbitrary decision when I made it, and seems more arbitrary as the months go by. That's not to say that I haven't learned some things along the way. For example, I've learned that running every day is fairly easy -- easier, in fact, than figuring out when to take days off during serious training. I've also learned that the circumstances most likely to lead me to break this streak have much less to do with bad weather or injuries than you might think. Instead, I am convinced that when I miss a day it will because of some relatively silly social event or travel obligation, combined with lax planning on my part. In other words, that missed run will be the result of inattention, not hardship or exhaustion.

Sometimes I'll mention to a family member that my last day off was on Christmas Day -- it doesn't sound cool, it just sounds odd. I think it would produce about the same effect if I said that I had recited the Gettysburg address every day for the last 187 days. "Yeah? Well, that's.... interesting..."

But here's the thing: the streak has conferred to each run a kind of significance above and beyond the boring sameness of most of my running these days. I haven't skimped on the long runs, the races, etc. -- those are still memorable efforts. But now, even the 3-mile recovery runs take on an added meaning, just because each of those runs could easily have been a day off, but wasn't. It occurs to me that it might be healthier to have those days off, without the "empty calories" of these token jogs. Maybe my hamstring would feel better, my foot would stop hurting, and I'd feel fresher and faster. Maybe, maybe, maybe...

Well, I'll have to sort that out one of these days, but not today. Today I'm going for a run.

Age and Distance Catch Up to Pappas

At the risk of careless understatement, the decathlon is a really tough event. It lasts for two days during which an athlete must mentally prepare for and then execute intense sprints, hurdles, jumps, and throws, and then, after seven events have been completed, tackle the pole vault (which can be a quick DNF for the unlucky). Even after that test has been passed, there is the final cruel 1500m. It seems so unfair to ask these big fast strong guys to endure a distance race, but it adds incalculable drama to the event.

One of the stories that fascinated me at the US Championships this last week was the performance of Tom Pappas, the 2003 world champion in the decathlon. Back in 2004, Pappas was favored to win the decathlon in the 2004 Olympics in Athens. This would have been a great story, an American of Greek heritage becoming the world's greatest athlete in the land that gave us the Olympic games. But like Achilles, Pappas had mortal feet, and a foot injury hampered him in competition, and he withdrew from the Olympic decathlon. In Athens and since then, Pappas has been eclipsed by other U.S. decathletes, first Bryan Clay the 2004 silver and 2008 gold medalist, and more recently by Ashton Eaton, the world record holder in the indoor heptathlon and the recent NCAA decathlon champion.

Although Pappas made a comeback in 2009, it was still something of a blast from the past to see the 34-year-old leading the U.S. Outdoors championships after nine events (with Clay and Eaton skipping the meet). Alas, the decathlon does not end with the Javelin, where Pappas is a beast, but with the cruel 1500 meters. For a man of Pappas' size (6-5 and 210 lbs.), the 1500 is torture.

Leading by 72 points over Jake Arnold, Pappas needed to finish no worse than 13 seconds behind Arnold. Alas, it wasn't even close. Arnold ran 4:40 (about a 5:01 mile) for 679 points, while Pappas could only manage 5:12 for 493 points.

There's something about the decathlon that humbles every athlete. Maybe it's that final race against the clock in which the winner of the event is usually somewhere back in the pack just trying to hang on. If you want to humble a strong man who can sprint and jump, make him run a race designed for the lean and the gaunt.

I'm Calling B.S. On Chris McDougall

Chris McDougall, the unexpected media sensation who wrote "Born to Run," in which he did his best to convince us that barefoot running is the secret not only to better running, but to better health and a better life, has a new piece on Slate.com in which he does his best to convince us that David Petraeus, the architect of this country's strategy in Iraq and now the Allied Commander in Afghanistan, is a running god.

The 57-year-old Petraeus is known to be extremely fit and tough. He challenges young recruits to contests of physical strength and endurance and always wins. He works out like a demon. He does pushups and chin-ups beyond number. And forgive me if I sound like a beer commercial here, but he might just be the most interesting man in the world. I got no beef with the General. And I really hope he doesn't challenge me to a push-up contest.

But in his article, McDougall repeats a claim that bothers me enough that I'm calling B.S. on him -- McDougall, that is, not Petraeus. McDougall, a former war correspondent, writes that the newly-minted general begins each day with a sunrise five mile run in which each mile is run in under six minutes.

I'm not buying it.

A few minutes with Google and it appears that the source of this claim is an article published a couple of years ago in that bastion of journalism, Runner's World, by a writer named Willy Stern ("The General Motors"). In that article, Stern reveals the following about Petraeus, the runner:

- He was a sub-10:00 2-miler in high school.

- In 1982, he ran the Omaha Marathon in 2:50:53.

- During peak track training season, he runs 8 x 400m in under 75 seconds

I find all of these believable, although that track workout is probably a few years old. Hey, no problem, I'm on board: the guy is a serious runner who trains hard and has kept himself is superb shape over the years. But does he do his morning five mile runs at sub-6:00 pace?

No. Way.

Unlike the other claims, this one doesn't pass the old smelly training shoe sniff test. Maybe there are some D1 athletes out there who run 29:xx for five miles at 6:30 every morning in their New Balance 992s (at 14.3 oz per shoe, nothing like racing shoes, folks...), but I won't accept without proof that a 57-year-old does this. That's race pace, pure and simple, and the VERY FEW national-class veteran runners who can run that pace in a race aren't doing it every morning as a warmup to their gym workout.

It's not the General's fault that reporters get this wrong. And in the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter; and yet. I can't help feeling that the writers who let it slip into their articles have revealed something about themselves. To me, repeating this far-fetched claim without first-hand evidence just goes to show that McDougall really doesn't understand or care about competitive running. If he did, he'd question the claim. And if he actually found it to be true, he would point out that Petraeus was, potentially, a champion whose demanding career robbed the sport of one of its great age-group competitors.

But far more likely, those sub-six-minute miles are simply an exaggeration based on a misunderstanding somewhere along the line. Maybe he did it once, on a bet. Maybe the course is only 4.6 miles. Maybe any number of things. I wouldn't expect McDougall to be out there measuring the course with a wheel, but at least he should have had some doubts. But I expect that he is a true believer, and believers don't want to doubt; they want to believe.

Well, he's welcome to his beliefs but I would take his other claims (barefoot running = eternal youth) with a healthy dose of skepticism.

2nd Annual Adrian Martinez Classic - Thursday, 6/17

On Thursday evening, June 17, beginning at 5 p.m. Concord-Carlisle H.S. hosts the second annual Adrian Martinez Classic, a series of one-mile races on Concord's Emerson track. There are races for all ages and all abilities, including a race for mile novices, and the highly competitive ADRO MILE, which offers cash prizes for top 5 finishers in the men's and women's division. There is a bonus of $1,000 for the first man who runs sub-4:00 and the first woman who runs sub-4:30.

Schedule of Events:

5:00 PM: Age Group Races from 10-under to 13-14
5:30 PM: FIRST-TIMER’S (and Second Timer’s) MILE
5:45 PM: The Adro Elite Miles
6:00 PM: Masters’ Divisions
6:20 PM: Age Group Races 15-up and the Scholastic Team Challenge

The scholastic challenge is a team category for high school students (team members must be from the same town and must be attending high school in the fall).

For entry info and directions, see the event website:

http://www.martinezclassic.com

NSRP Begins This Wednesday

Back by popular demand, the Newton Summer Running Project returns to Cold Springs Park beginning this Wednesday, June 9, and most Wednesdays throughout the summer.

The NSRP is nothing more or less than an opportunity to meet fellow runners who are looking for camaraderie as they go about building up their summer mileage. Several years ago, I decided to invite anyone who wanted to join me to meet at Cold Springs Park in Newton two evenings a week -- Monday and Wednesday -- for moderate aerobic runs. The first year attendance was sparse, but it has grown steadily. I have been impressed by how many HS and former-HS runners from Newton, Brookline, Wellesley, Natick, Weymouth, and other towns have joined me and a few other old fogies for these runs. It has been a great way to help each other out as we all train -- some for fall XC, some for marathons, and some just to keep in the game.

Unfortunately, I can't commit to regular attendance on Monday evenings, but if there's sufficient interest, I encourage the group to meet on its own Mondays.

We meet at around 6:15, and try to get started on our run by 6:30. There are usually several groups, running anywhere from 4-5 to 12 miles. We try to pick routes from Cold Springs that involve trails, but the routes vary. It IS possible to get lost, and running with me is no guarantee of avoiding this fate.

Please note that if you are looking for a structured, highly organized running camp, the NSRP is not it. Instead, I like to think of our merry band of runners as the antidote to the over-structured, over-scheduled, over-priced running experience offered by some mega-coaching outfits. I don't "coach" NSRP and I don't tell you what to run. I *do* like to talk running if anyone feels like it, but mostly I like to keep it simple and just run.

For recent college grads and anyone else looking for a little more structure and the opportunity to run for a competitive club team, I should mention that my running club, the Cambridge Sports Union (CSU), offers weekly track workouts, long runs, and the opportunity to compete in team events, including free entry to the series of New England Championship races put on by the USATF-NE organization.

Please check us out at www.csurun.org.

I hope to see some folks on Wednesday!