until 1:00 p.m., when I would take a break of one hour. The afternoon and early evening would be similar. On the first day, I finished in the town of Lifton, having covered 83 miles in 12 hours, 44 minutes of running and walking. The next morning, I set off in pouring rain, which was miserable. Mike and I got lost in Taunton, which wasted time and energy. I ended the day in Bridgewater, having covered 80 miles, plus one mile in the wrong direction.

GO LAME, GO HOME

Day three started well: the sun was shining, the road was flat for about 16 miles, and I felt quite good. However, many miles later in the early evening between Monmouth and Hereford, my attempt floundered. I was running down a steep hill before St. Wenwords when suddenly a severe pain developed in my lower left leg, making further running impossible. Treatment from Malcolm that evening proved ineffective.

The next day I spent miserably walking, or rather limping, at less than four miles per hour. At Hope under Dinmore, which I reached in the late afternoon, I abandoned the attempt, after consultation with Malcolm, who could see no chance of the injury improving. Later, the injury was diagnosed as a stress fracture of the tibia.

I made a complete recovery from the fracture and wanted again to try the solo JOGLE. However, before committing myself, I thought it best to give my leg a good test, so I accepted the invitation to run in the Cagliari-to-Sassari race of 254K in Sardinia on October 17. Icompleted the run in 25 hours, 28 minutes, and 52 seconds with no leg problems, apart from the normal one of not being able to move them quickly enough.

Having passed this test, I decided to make a second attempt at the JOGLE, starting on July 11, 1988, again from Land’s End. Everything was set up for the attempt, so it was a bitter blow to all involved when the attempt had to be postponed on June 19. On this day, soon after the start of a 100K race in Lincoln, I collided with another runner and fell very badly onto the pavement.

I fractured my left patella and had to endure the next three and a half weeks with my leg in plaster from groin to ankle. Following the removal of the plaster, and after daily physiotherapy and muscle-strengthening exercises, I regained full bending movement in my knee, but my leg looked rather like a stork’s. Iwas able to start jogging on August 7 and progressed to full training by September 12. I wanted to test the knee to see if I could contemplate another JOGLE run the following Easter.

Iran the Black Isle Marathon on September 29 in 2:34:56 with no ill effects, except increased discomfort and ache in my knee for a few hours after the race. Then on November 19-20 I ran in the indoor (200-meter track) 24-hour race in

the Kelvin Hall, Glasgow, and managed 144 miles, 1,009 yards. My knee was no problem during the run, but it did swell with fluid for a few days after.

I decided that I was sound enough for another attempt. This time I planned to go from John O’ Groats. My reasoning was that it’s much easier to get to John O’Groats from Lossiemouth, my home, and in the event of my knee giving out, which I thought might happen after three days if at all, it would not be so far to get home. On the negative side, going in this direction, headwinds were more likely.

OUR NEW TEAM

I set up the attempt to begin on the first of April 1989, at noon—no longer an April Fool, I hoped. April 1 was the first day of our two-week holiday from school. My support team consisted of Isobel (my wife), Donald Gunn and Mike Francis (teammates from Forres Harriers), George Stewart, plus Claire and Anna, my daughters. Isobel, assisted by George, was to tow our trailer, provide meals, wash clothes, and record parts of the run on videotape when she got a chance. Mike took responsibility for route-finding and keeping the log book, while Donald was to administer massage after each running session. The crew would also take responsibility for collecting names and addresses for the witness book, as required by the Guinness Book of World Records, for inclusion should I break the record, as I planned to do.

After work on March 31, we set off for Golspie, where we were to stay at Donald’s parents’ holiday cottage. Mike and Donald drove a minibus, supplied by our main sponsor, the Macallan Whisky Distillers. I had all the seating removed except for the driver and passenger seats; this way I could easily carry all our provisions, kit, and a bicycle, plus there was room to lie down for a massage.

Overnight, Mike developed a severe toothache, so he and Donald set out early to try to find a dentist in Wick, while we made our way to John O’Groats some time later. My plan was to ease into the run by starting with a half-day, which would take us to Brora. At John O’Groats, temperatures were bitterly cold, and a strong southeast wind blew, so a wetsuit, hat, and gloves were necessary. Mike and Donald arrived about 30 minutes before the noon start, having found a dentist who fixed Mike’s tooth for free as his contribution to our run, which by now was known as “Ritchie’s Run ’89.”

Nine friends and supporters turned up before the start to wish me luck and see me off, a surprise treat that I greatly appreciated. I planned to start exactly at the 12 noon time signal from a BBC radio station, but in all the excitement I selected the wrong station on the car radio, and there was no BBC time signal, so my actual departure was at 12:02.

& £: ee 24″ Annual eo:

€ >? © %e

Napa Valley Marathon

March 3, 2002 7:00 am RRCA National Championships

2001 Champions Anthony Grudale & Miriam Schmidt

Don Ritchie THE LONG AND WINDING ROAD ® 25

I set off to cheers and was soon alone, tackling the first of many hills, running into a strong headwind in this very exposed region. I wondered what the next 10 days would bring.

In an attempt to minimize stress and avoid injury, I had decided I would not run for more than three hours in any one session and that I would have at least a 30-minute break between sessions. I intended to run three three-hour sessions, followed by two two-hour sessions, plus whatever else was necessary to complete the target mileage for the day, if it was at all practical to do so.

During the 30-minute rest, I would change clothes, and shoes if necessary, eat and drink, and receive a massage and do stretching under the able hands of Donald. Malcom Morgan had demonstrated the techniques on me a few weeks before, while Donald and Mike observed and Isobel made a video recording for reference. We theorized that to gain skill Donald had practiced massaging his girlfriend’s legs.

After I had covered about three miles, Donald and Mike began running alternate miles with me, to try to protect me from the wind on the very exposed road to Reiss.

Soon we reached Wick, which we passed through with some encouragement from local residents. I stopped at Thrumster for a first rest period, which passed quite slowly, but I was sure this would not be the case later in the run.

GOING DOWNHILL CAUTIOUSLY

I continued down the undulating A9 road, which afforded some spectacular views of cliffs, sea, and mountains. At the Berriedale braes I was very cautious of the steep descent, fearful that excessive jarring might provoke another stress fracture, so I walked down the steepest part, a practice I would repeat on all future steep downhills. The climb from Berriedale was okay, and there were several other stiff climbs before the descent to Helmsdale at sea level again.

From there the road is almost flat, and I could see the lights of Brora, 11 miles away. This section seemed to take a long time to complete; it was quite annoying seeing the lights, which did not appear to be getting any closer. I finished in Brora at 10:45 p.m., having covered 65 miles for my “half day” of work.

Ihad difficulty sleeping that night and was feverish. In the morning, I was choked up with a cold—the cold that had been threatening over the past week had finally developed into a classic cold, with all the accompanying discomfort. After breakfast, we returned to Brora, and at 6:00 a.m. [began running from last night’s stop point. The wind was not a problem until the high ground from the south end of Loch Buihde to Bonar Bridge. Going over Struie Hill was very hard, as the wind at times nearly blew me off my feet. I was glad when the

descent to the Cromarty Firth began, as trees lined either side of the road, offering protection.

Shortly before I crossed the bridge over the river Averon, a sharp pain on the front of my left patella developed, and I worried that this might signal the start of problems with the knee. However, some freeze spray eased the pain considerably, and eventually it faded away.

Raymond Cameron and members of the Minolta Black Isle Athletic Club joined me a couple of miles before I rejoined the A9, and they ran with me in relays from there to the Kessock Bridge at Inverness. It cheered me up to have this enthusiastic support, and they also helped to shield me from the wind. At Kessock Bridge, Colin Bailey had arranged a group of veteran Inverness Harriers to run with me from there to within a few miles of Slochd summit. Again, they were a big help against the wind and in lifting my morale.

The day became colder; by the time I reached Slochd summit, flurries of sleet were falling. I was tired and eager to see the turnoff for Carrbridge, where I was to stop. [reached there at 10:05 p.m., having covered 84.7 miles, but I was feeling very tired. It had been a hard day, with the wind and hills.

We spent the night in a trailer park in Aviemore, where we all appreciated the hot showers.

The next morning was frosty as I set off from Carrbridge at 6:05 a.m. I felt comfortable, and it was peaceful running along the B9125 road rather than the A9. I would get plenty of the A9 and its attendant traffic later in the day. The

Don, center, surrounded by members of the Minolta Black Isle Athletic Club during his 1989 JOGLE.

Don Ritchie THE LONG AND WINDING ROAD ® 27

day developed into a pleasant morning, with no wind, and the sun was out, which was quite encouraging. My first three hours took me to Kingussie, only 19.5 miles, but [had come to accept this slow pace as the norm if I was to avoid injury and complete the task.

A CHANGE OF CREW

After Newtomore I rejoined the A9 and after about four miles had company from Graham Milne, who had driven up from his parents’ home in Pitlochry. It was good to have him there until my next stop at Drumochter pass. By now Isobel had arrived, and her hot soup was very welcome. Peter Scott, a clubmate of Graham’s involved in the planning of the previous attempt, also arrived. He and Graham became my support team until Pitlochry, while Donald and Mike went ahead to Graham’s parents’ for a meal and some much-needed sleep.

Peter ran with me on my next three-hour session, and then Graham took over again until we reached Pitlochry, where a refreshed Mike and Donald resumed their task.

About one mile after rejoining the A9, after the Pitlochry section, I saw a figure running toward me. As he got closer, I recognized the unmistakable running style of my good friend Ian Moncur. I knew he was pleased to see me, but he began shouting at the top of his voice: “Where the hell have you been?” Thad asked Ian prior to the run if he would like to run a section, and he had readily agreed. Earlier in the day Ihad asked Graham to telephone Ian to let him know my location so that we could meet. Unfortunately, Graham gave him a very optimistic estimate of my arrival time at Ballingluig, so he had expected to meet us some three hours earlier. Ian ran with me for two hours, down to Dunkeld junction, by which time it was quite late.

T left the A9 soon after to go to Bankfoot, where we finished at 11:00 p.m., with a total of 81.8 miles for the day. In view of this late finish, Mike suggested something I had also been considering: moving the next morning’s start earlier by an hour.

There were no hot showers at our night stop, the trailer park near Perth, so we did without. The next morning, I began running at 5:12 and covered only 17.2 miles in the first session, arriving at Glenfarg. I was coping with the run but getting weaker daily. Certainly, I was not adapting to the run and becoming more fit as the run went on, as some people had suggested might happen. My cold had progressed into bronchitis, which worried me some.

Adrian Stott from Edinburgh joined me about five miles before my next stop at Hill of Beath. His company cheered me. I developed a nosebleed, the first of many, so I had to run along spattered in blood, a wad of toilet tissue in my nostril to stop the flow.

Whos Running Washington?

How About You?

Anew tradition is about to begin in Washington, DC. The time has come for the most historic city in America to host a running event like no other. We’d like you to be there with thousands of other men and women when the starter gun cracks the air. Be there when they race across Memorial Bridge, past national momuments, through the West End, Chinatown, the tree-lined neighborhoods of Capitol Hill, and all the sites that make Washington such an ideal place for a world-class, international marathon.

ssINGTON ws De

MARATHON

The Washington, DC Marathon is brought to you by H,0 Entertainment Group Inc

As we approached the Forth Road Bridge, snow began to fall, accompanied by a strong easterly wind. Isobel had passed us on the bridge and so was unable to video us coming off the other side.

Adrian ran with me around the Edinburgh Bypass, which was very busy and extremely nerve-racking to run on because of the fast and heavy traffic. We were both relieved to get off and head for Penicuick and Peebles.

T observed at my next toilet stop some evidence of intestinal blood loss— something else to try to remedy. Adrian left us at Leadburn Inn with best wishes for our “history in the making” event and a flask of fresh tea; we also received a five pound donation from the inn staff.

AND YET MORE SNOW

More snow fell on my next session down through Peebles, where I missed the most direct route onto the B7062 road. With the drop in altitude, the snow turned to sleet. I finished at Traquair House at 10:26 p.m., having covered 80.6 miles. It was quite a long drive to the trailer park at Tushielaw Inn, made difficult by the snow on the B709 road, as we drove over the hills. Again there were no hot showers, and it was after midnight by the time we had finished our “evening” meal.

Four hours later, at 4:00 .M., we had to push the Macallan van off the site, as the tires could not get any traction on the slushy grass. At 5:16 A.m., I began running from last night’s stopping place and soon faced a long climb over to the A708 junction, and then another, over to Tushielaw.

The roads had a covering of snow, and it was quite therapeutic running through this quiet countryside as dawn broke. I was virtually alone, except for an occasional herd of sheep.

Mike and Donald took turns driving and sleeping so that they would be fresher later in the day. I followed the meandering B709 on to Eskdalemuir, then down into Langholm, and we left the hills behind us, as the flat country around the Solway Firth spread out before us. I crossed the English border in the late afternoon, which gave me a morale boost.

Apart from my bronchitis and intestinal blood loss, I was now beginning to develop stomach pains. I worried that I might be developing an ulcer. Also, the inside of my mouth was very sensitive, almost raw, so it was an effort to eat—especially anything hot or salty. I pondered possible courses of action to combat this problem. I had already given up quite diluted orange squash in favor of water, tea, or electrolyte drink after the second day. I noticed that my sore mouth was aggravated by eating bread and jam, so I decided to eliminate sugar from my diet. I ate dry wholemeal bread along with an electrolyte drink and a banana every hour. Within a day of this regime my stomach pains vanished, and the intestinal bleeding disappeared. The inside of my mouth remained sore.

I passed through Longtown and approached Carlisle along a very busy A7. It was rush hour. I was very tired and flopped into the van at my next stop at the north side of Carlisle. Following this rest stop, Donald guided me through Carlisle and onto the A6 road, which I followed as darkness fell. Mike accompanied me with a flashlight to our finishing point at the northern outskirts of Penrith, which we reached at 11:11 p.M., giving me 81 miles for the day.

The next morning I started at 5:11 and felt comfortable on the run up to Shap Fell. I did not like the steep descent after Shap summit, and I had to go very

cautiously to avoid overstressing my legs. Mike joined me as I approached Kendal; he guided me through town before dashing off to buy another pair of shoes. By this time Iwas extremely tired and covered a mere 16.9 miles during my second running session of the day, which finished about 2 miles south of Kendal. During my massage, I kept falling asleep and going straight into a dream state. Donald did very wellin his massaging sessions, but we soon used up all the massage oil. We substituted Johnson’s baby oil, but this caused some hairs to get pulled out on the insides of both thighs, causing boils to occur there. Next we tried “Crisp-n-Dry” cooking oil, which worked well, but it left

Don Ritchie

John O’Groats

Bonar Bridge Sel Ly

Elgin Kingussie

Kinross

Edinburgh

Moffat

Carlisle

Kendal

Preston

Warrington

Shrewsbury

Hereford

Bristol

Bridgewater Okehampton

Land’s End

THE LONG AND WINDING ROAD 31

a pungent sickly smell on any clothes contaminated with it and on the air bed used for massage, which doubled as Donald’s bed.

A CHANGE IN STRATEGY

Iput on lighter shoes to see if this would help matters as I pushed on to Carnforth and Lancaster. I felt very weak and wondered how much longer I could keep going. My concern grew, so I decided I would run less than planned so that I could finish earlier and get to bed earlier. I finished for the day at 9:27 p.m. in Preston town center, having covered 72.4 miles.

The next morning, I got under way at 5:20, following the A49 to Wigan and on to Warrington. I felt a bit fresher but still managed only 17.3 miles in my first session. After Stretton, Iran through some attractive countryside, and just after midday I reached the 500-mile point in my journey.

During the afternoon I had another nosebleed, which became a regular occurrence until the end. I stuffed toilet tissue up my nostril and proceeded, finishing the day at Wem at 9:25 p.., adding another 73.1 miles to the total. My plan now was to run at least 70 miles a day to the finish instead of my planned 80 miles, as 80 had proved too stressful. To continue at that level would be inviting a breakdown.

My 5:02 start the following morning was my earliest, but I felt tired and covered just 16.7 miles in my first three hours. It was frustrating to be going so slowly, but at least I was still running and had no major injuries. Going through Shrewsbury, I passed by the Lion Hotel, where we had stayed in 1987 following the abandonment of my first attempt. I passed through some attractive countryside as I followed the A49 to Church Stretton and Ludlow.

The afternoon became quite warm. I was tempted to put on shorts but discovered the day was not quite warm enough when I assessed the temperature during my nextrest session. It was rather pleasant running from Ludlow through Richards Castle and Luston to Leominster along the quiet B4361. Passing through Leominster, I felt twinges in my right calf and began to worry this might be the start of an injury. But after a few more occurrences, the twinges went away.

Ipassed Hope under Dinmore, where my previous attempt finished, and my thoughts returned to that miserable day two years ago when I was very downcast. I reached Hereford at dusk and ran on and up the long climb to the A466 turnoff. I finished at 11:07 p.m., north of St. Wenords, with a total of 73.6 miles for the day.

At 5:08 a.m., I started out quite aggressively and gave thanks that I was still running, as I passed the spot where my stress fracture had stopped me two years before. I passed Monmouth and enjoyed a pleasant run down the Wye Valley

on this early Sunday morning. I reached the Severn Bridge at about 11:00 a.m. The day again had become quite warm.

WAY OFF COURSE

In Bristol, Mike and I navigated to the Clifton Suspension Bridge, only to discover that the road we were to have taken down to the riverside was closed. I decided to go over the bridge and go down on the other side, assuming that we could find a bridge at river level and cross back to rejoin our route. This was a mistake. Despite our city map, we became disoriented, then thoroughly lost, and wasted time going in the wrong direction. We asked directions from local people, and after clambering over a couple of fences and a railway line, we regained our route.

By my next stop, on the climb out of Bristol, on the A38, I had covered only 12.2 miles over the last three hours.

During the next session, the road was very busy. I assumed people were returning to Bristol after a Sunday afternoon outing. Mike’s sister, Hilary, joined us after Bristol and assisted Isobel in locating our night’s trailer park, where they got set up to receive us later.

Once over the Mendip hills, the road became flat, as did the batteries in my flashlight. Rain began to fall, so I splashed along, holding my nearly useless flashlight. Mike fetched the batteries from the rear light of the bicycle, but they soon faded also. Despite this, I managed to avoid potholes. I was aiming for Bridgewater and eventually reached the outskirts, where I stopped at 11:25 p.m., with 71.8 miles covered for the day.

The next morning I got rolling at 5:01, making my way through Bridgewater and onto Taunton. In my first session I covered 17.4 miles, which was quite encouraging, considering my poor condition. Tiverton was next, then a very hilly section across to Crediton. As I was still concerned about excessive leg stress, I chose to walk the steep downhill sections.

I decided to try four three-hour sessions rather than switch to two hours. During my second session I felt a sharp pain on the left front side of my chest, which was aggravated by swinging my left arm in my normal running action. Thad to run along with my left arm folded against my chest to ease the pain. I thought maybe all the coughing I’d been doing had caused a pulled muscle. I began to wonder what the symptoms of a collapsed lung were.

When I mentioned my new problem to Donald, who had arrived to accompany me over the remaining few miles to Oakhampton, he suggested the pain was caused by indigestion. I took this to mean, “Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get on with the run.”

Don Ritchie THE LONG AND WINDING ROAD ® 33

Ireached Oakhampton at 8:00 p.m. butin very tired condition, with only 14.7 miles covered in the past three hours. I had a 66-minute rest before continuing with Mike and a rejuvenated flashlight toward Lewdon, where I finished at 11:18 P.m., with 74.2 miles added to the total. [was now 88 miles from the finish, so the next day should be my last day on the road.

FINALLY!

I began my last day at 5:18 A.M. with a sense of excitement and apprehension. My chest pain was gone, but I was concerned something might go wrong at this late stage of the run. About an hour into the run, a headwind began to blow, and rain followed. Amazingly quickly, the wind became a gale, as rain fell in torrents. I battled on against the elements, the gale increasing in ferocity as I climbed onto Bodmin moor.

In my first three-hour session I covered only 15.4 miles. On my next session I was concerned that some of the gusts of wind would blow me into the path of a truck or some other vehicle, so I asked Donald to drive the van ahead of me so that I could get some protection and maintain a straight course.

By the Bodmin Bypass the rain had ceased, but the wind still blew strong. This second session yielded only 15.3 miles; I notched an even poorer 15 miles during the next session. For my fourth session, I changed into lighter shoes and felt I was running better, covering 16.6 miles. However, on the next session, a two-hour segment, I managed only 9.7 miles, finishing at the St. Ivel factory at Hayle at 11:08 p.m.

I began my final session at 11:47 p.M., knowing I had to complete the remaining 16.2 miles in six hours and 38 minutes to break Richard Brown’s record.

By now the wind had died, and it was a peaceful night with a clear sky and a nearly full moon.

On reaching Penzance I took the bypass road rather than go through town, which turned out to be a mistake, as I appeared to complete a large semicircle involving some nasty climbs. As I left the bypass, a signpost indicated 9.5 miles to Land’s End. I was nearly there, but I was very tired, and it seemed to take ages to reach Sennan, where I could smell the sea.

As Iran toward the finish, a floodlight came on to allow the BBC South West camera team to record the finish. I stumbled and almost fell on a traffic ramp in the road and was confused, as Land’s End, with new buildings, looked completely different from what it had been two years earlier. [eventually found the hotel on the clifftop and then the “official” signpost, where I finished at 3:27 A.M. At last, it was over!

I had finished the journey of 846.4 miles in 10 days, 15 hours, and 25 minutes. After hugs all around, we opened a bottle of champagne given to us by Albert Middleton and drank to our triumph. Mike, Donald, and Isobel had each contributed a great deal to the success of the run.

Once the camera crew had signed our witness book, we made our way to the trailer park at Craws-an-wra. It was about 4:30 a.m. before we got to bed. Normally, we would be preparing to start another day’s run at this time. I found it difficult to sleep, as had been the case throughout the run, and got up at 9:00 A.M. It was wonderful not to have to go and run.

Later, after making some telephone calls, we returned to Land’s End to see in daylight the new developments and to sign the “End to End” book. Mike and Donald set off for home that afternoon, as Mike had to catch a flight to Boston for the marathon. He had certainly had a unique preparation for it.

Isobel, the girls, and I stayed another night at Craws-an-wra. The girls enjoyed watching the tortoise in the site-owners’ garden. That night, a stream of yellow liquid suddenly poured from my nose, as though someone had turned on a tap.

“It’s your brains running out!” Isobel giggled.

At this point in the game, I was able to laugh with her.

THE AFTERMATH

It took us four days to get back to Lossiemouth, where I had to prepare for my return to work the next day. We were certainly not refreshed after our Easter vacation. My weight on Monday, April 17, was 133 pounds, about 7 pounds below normal. Considering I had been snacking almost continuously during waking hours since I finished, I estimated that my weight had been down to roughly 126.

The aftermath of the run was not what I expected. I was not injured, only weak. And my health/immune system had broken down. Apart from continuing bronchitis, I had swollen glands on either side of my neck, and my pulse stayed 10 beats above normal. Antibiotics were prescribed, and they worked well enough for me to resume running on May 1.

Thad difficulty sleeping for about five weeks after finishing the run. I would be very restless and keep thinking it was time to get up and get ready to run, or I would dream I was still running and had gotten lost.

Being an optimist, before my run I had entered the Lochaber Marathon, scheduled for April 23, and the first British AAA 100K championships on May 7. [had to withdraw from both events. My poor health continued through the summer. Each time I began to train hard, I picked up another infection. I had

Don Ritchie THE LONG AND WINDING ROAD ® 35

seven courses of antibiotics as well as two decongestant mixtures before I began to get back to normal in early September. From then on, I felt stronger each week, and I knew I had recovered when I ran 6:51:14 in the Santander 100K in Spain in October.

In association with my run, my many helpers and I raised 5,667 pounds (about $9,350 US) for cancer research, which made the run all the more satisfying.

Inow have an even greater respect for anyone who completes the End to End journey on foot. I also learned quite a bit else from this adventure:

e The importance—and difficulty—of good route planning. e The importance of correct eating. ¢ The importance of getting strategy and logistics right.

IfI were asked for advice by someone attempting this run with the intention of breaking the record, I’’d suggest using two mobile homes with a support crew of eight, who would work as two teams, on a shift system of four hours each. The runner should keep moving, jogging for up to 18 hours a day, if possible. An attempt during the summer should yield better weather.

There have been several record attempts since 1989, and most petered out after three or four days.

Richard Brown, whose record I had broken, sent me a card saying “Congratulations on your record. Enjoy it until I get itback.” I thoughthe was joking, but years

Richard completed the journey from Land’s End to John O’ Groats (LEJOG) in 10 days, two hours, and 25 minutes, setting what stands as the current record.

I know the record should be under 10 days, but who will accomplish this? A strong ultrarunner with the time, adequate financial backing, and an experienced support crew would be a good bet. I’m occasionally tempted to try to get the record back and finish in under 10 days. Will Don Ritchie make another at- Perhaps my desire will reach such tempt to run from Land’s End to alevel that I will have to do someJohn O’Groats? Only time will tell. thing about it. Time will tell.

BURING EXERCISE

MUACCELERADE

Eee Le

aang to working muscles faster.

New ACCELERADE® increases the energy CTH MOM AMY CUOMO Oe (010) consume. Unlike conventional sports drinks, ACCELERADE contains the patented 4 to 1 ratiot of carbohydrate to protein to speed the movement of carbohydrate into the muscle. Studies show that, compared to a conventional ECR ew AAW RRR Te( CUCU MDL SMECTCH LUE Umm OCU LRLLTe) exercise by 24%. ACCELERADE also contains essential antioxidants to reduce post-exercise TSH ECe SMELLY MOLES Meir ULL Elem Orme los

eee syd

PERFORMANCES

em eM Cm a me UN UL

Developed by leading exercise physiologists, Endurox® R4° Performance/Recovery Drink CUCU SMU LCL Ct a CO LOL carbohydrate to protein to speed muscle Ce Tee Te MCS Me UMC LLCO MLL SS protein after exercise, glutamine to restore essential levels and antioxidants to reduce post-exercise muscle damage. Clinical studies tie aC Meme CHORE CHC UCC) ] 55%, decreases post-exercise muscle damage by 36%, and increases muscle glycogen eer) na

Available at GNC LiveWell, Performance Bike, Road Runner Sports, The Vitamin Shoppe, Drugstore.com, LAH OMA RSOLE LISS UNCOOL ORE MECrCULIO MISMO R-UO RSM LULL oleae

eA C CUMIN MOM cmc Len MUM R TOMO PAC TIS LOULS cet U em Meme ROMO etm Urea Og prevent any disease. ©2001 PacificHealth Laboratories, Inc. All rights reserved. Endurox® R4® and Accelerade® are registered trademarks

of PacificHealth Laboratories, Inc. Manufactured for PacificHealth Laboratories, Inc. Woodbridge, NJ 07095

U.S. Patent 6,051,236

The only suspension system that’s more sophisticated comes with leather seats.

But we push technology further with our new, amazingly responsive N-ergy S.C. System” It combines cushioning, stability and energy management as never before.

Stability must extend beyond the rear foot.

The Stability Web® supports the midfoot and helps control torsional stresses as you move from heel-strike to toe-off.

The outsole must Meet a complex set of needs, The N-durance™ Heel Pad resists wear. Heel Cleft decelerates pronation.

Performance demands innovation. An innovation like the New Balance Suspension System.

Why a system? Because no single technology meets all the needs of serious runners. The foundation of the system is extraordinary cushioning provided by a C-Cap® Midsole.

High-speed running shifts impact forces forward, so we place a full bed of shock-absorbing Abzorb® under the forefoot. It’s the right technology in exactly the right place.

External Flex Grooves smooth your stride. Blown Rubber Forefoot Pods provide excellent cushioning and flexibility.

Each shoe New Balance builds has a uniquely tuned Suspension System, engineered to meet a specific set of bio-mechanical needs. To Oe ae Ca LD

INAUGURAL

moerathon

(,activecon

” Featuring the following Birmingham, Alabama Ss 13 0¥A marathon events: February 10

Marathon

Half Marathon ito k-siVce Tatar a) Marathon Relay

Win the 2002 Maui ict Marathon & Beyond Sweepstakes

For details, visit www-matiimarathon. com or www. marathonfandbeyond. com

26.2-Mile Point-to-Point Marathon ; Kahului to Kaanapali ¢ Limited to 3200 Runners X\ Carbo-Load Party Sports & Fitness Pe ¢ 5K Fun Run

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 22, 2002

po f www.mauimarathon.com

Al ? For specials on hotel & flights contact: >

e Marathon Tours & Travel at 800-444-4097 »

The Islands of Aloha or Email: marathon@shore.net Marathon Tours & Travel

By the Numbers

A Curious Series of Takes on Why Numbers Can Be Our Friends—or Our Doom.

ANY WRITERS attempt to find humor in running. Few succeed. Not

because there is no humor in running, but because it’s so difficult to pin down. It seems so ephemeral. As elusive as a runner’s high after only five minutes of running. But every once ina while a writer finds a niche within the sport/lifestyle where few—if any—have gone before, because it seemed to everyone that the ground was fallow. Humor would not grow there. Michael Selman picked numbers. Staid, unyielding, chiseled numbers. Very basic, very boring … but not to Michael Selman. Not to people who’ve read Michael Selman’s humorous essay about how taking the 10% rule literally can lead to disasters, as presented in M&B’s November/December 2000 issue. We decided that under Michael’s furrowed brow, numbers can be funny, even downright hilarious. Seriously.—Editor

BEER HAS SUSTAINED ME

The Mathematics of Calorie Replacement for Runners Offers a Tasty Solution

Disclaimers: Due to the graphic alcoholic content of the following essay, it is not to be consumed by readers under 21 years of age. Do not operate heavy machinery while reading this essay. Be aware of any and all federal, state, county, city, village, municipality, and local laws and statutes that may regulate or prohibit your reading of this essay. Further, please note that any similarity to any person, living or otherwise, is purely coincidental.

This essay refers to high mileage, as well as high caloric intake of the belowmentioned “adult” beverages. Some of the larger quantities of the suggested replenishment caloric intake should be spaced over an extended time and do not necessarily need to be totally ingested on the same day as the caloric deficit is created.

One last caveat: because of the complex nature of the mathematical equations that follow, I highly recommend that you determine the totals for both distances run and strategies for replenishing the calories before you actually undertake either. Research has shown that running excessive mileage and ingesting excessive brews each results in instant mush on the brain. No studies thus far indicate that the two activities cancel out each other’s effects on the mind.

Please sign the waiver indicating that you have read and fully understand the above guidelines, and then enjoy.

Beer Has Sustained Me

Some things in life are truly paradoxical. For example, why would nature place the softest part of the human body in direct contact with the hardest part of the human body, fully capable of doing severe damage? Anyone who has ever bitten his or her tongue knows what I’m talking about.

Most of the runners I know subscribe to a similar dislogic. To casual observers, we are a picture of good health and good living. We run, which means we probably eat fresh fruits and vegetables all day long, drink nothing but sparKling water, and wouldn’t go near red meat with a 10-foot pole. Yeah, right. I don’t know about you, but rabbit food just doesn’t cut it for me.

It’s true that we runners do share some common health beliefs. Rarely do I see a runner smoking before a race, though it’s not unheard of. One of the nicest things about postrace parties is that they are smoke-free, which is appreciated by all. But to watch which foods disappear first at those postrace gatherings is to gain insight into the soul of the runner.

I was at a race recently where postrace refreshments included pizza, sub sandwiches, assorted cookies, and bananas. I saw mean, lean running machines walk off with three pieces of pizza and then return for more when their stash was exhausted. I saw people hoarding handfuls of cookies totally without caloric guilt or remorse. People were crowded around the sub sandwich table to the point you couldn’t nudge through to see if anything was left.

The Table Ignored

But one table was practically ignored. The bananas. I didn’t see anyone look both ways and then grab a bunch of bananas when nobody was looking. There was no need for a sign saying, “Please limit yourself to one banana.” Most people were limiting themselves to no bananas. Curious that these healthconscious people would bypass the obvious choice in favor of fat and empty calories.

AsI thought about this, I realized that the five pieces of pizza and three footlong subs I had just eaten had made me extremely thirsty. Boy, could I go for a beer right now. Yes, beer, the universal runner’s drink. Is there a runner alive who is not also a beer lover? Just give me a microbrew after a training run, and it truly doesn’t get any better.

I am an analytical thinker and try to make sense out of everything. So, of course, I started wondering why good running seemed to go hand in hand with bad eating and beer drinking. Well, I think I have figured out the answer in a way that at least I can understand. It’s really quite simple if you do the math.

Let’s begin with the facts.

3,500 calories will always equal one pound. This is a simple mathematical equation.

Personally, I maintain a consistent weight of about 150 pounds, which remains steady from year to year.

According to the calorie conversion calculator I found at the Web site nushapemall.com/health5. htm, for a 150-pound weakling as myself, each mile I run burns approximately 97.95 calories. To figure your calories burned per mile, just plug your weight in and calculate.

Now here’s the trick that requires an advanced degree in rocket science with a possible minor in slide-rule manipulation: The caloric content of beers varies as muchas the tastes of the wonderfully diverse brands available out there. The table I used in my endless “research” can be found at theraven.com/beer. html. Of course, much of my beer-drinking research was done without the aid of the Internet. Yes, it was rough work, but I take my research for this magazine seriously.

I’ve been averaging 150 miles of running per month. At 97.95 calories per mile, that means that each month, I burn about 14,692.5 calories running.

150 miles X 97.95 calories = 14,692.5

14,692.5 calories = 4.197857 pounds. That’s how much weight I lose each month through running.

To stay even, I need to take in an equivalent number of calories from beer. Simple math again tells me that I cannot stop drinking beer even if I wanted to (which, thank goodness, I don’t). Here’s why .. .

The Ultimate Weight-Loss Program

Suppose I stopped drinking beer today and changed nothing else about my lifestyle. I’d still ran my 150 miles a month, and I’d lose 4.197857 pounds a month in the process. For simplicity’s sake, let’s round that down to 4.19786.

In only one year, I would lose 50.37432 pounds (4.19786 X 12).

My weight would drop to less than 100 pounds, and I’d have to listen for high wind advisories before going outside. In only two short years, I will have lost 100.74864 pounds, which would be over two-thirds of my original body weight. I could get a job as a windsock at an airport. Finally, at the end of three full years, I wouldn’t even be here anymore. I would be totally gone.

So, to maintain my ideal weight of 150 pounds, I must be extremely careful that my beer calories equal my running calories. Otherwise, I’ll either gain or lose weight. But there are so many choices.

Light beers range from slightly under 100 calories (99.4 to be exact) to 138.45 calories per 12-ounce can or bottle. Regular beers, ales, and malt liquors top out at well over 200 calories per 12-ounce serving. (The Jamaican offering Dragon Stout boasts a healthy 220 calories per 12-ounce serving.) I suppose we should mention those nonalcoholic brews too, in the event that we have a caloric shortfall of fewer than 100 calories. Some of these attempts at a malt beverage can run as low as 49.7 calories.

Suppose I do a run of 7.5 miles one day. This would result in a grand total of 734.62 calories that I must replace by drinking beer. But, oh, the choices we face! When using the caloric content on the beer analysis chart, one must exercise caution. Calories associated with each brew are for a 100-milliliter serving. The problem is, who stops at 100 milliliters? A 12-ounce bottle is 355 milliliters. Have you ever known anyone to drink a third of a bottle of beer and say, “Ah, that hits the spot. Think I’ll just pour out the rest of this.” Hardly. So, let’s do some more math. We’ll use Anchor Porter as our Guinness pig:

Anchor Porter = 59 calories per 100 milliliters

59 X 3.55 = 152.65 calories per 12-ounce serving

If you drink four Anchor Porters, you have taken in 610.6 calories, and you’ ll still lose weight: 152.65 X 4 = 610.6, which is less than 734.62.

But alas, sadly, if you go for that fifth beer, you’ ll be a Sumo in no time:

152.65 X 5 = 763.25, which is more than 734.62.

You’ve gone over by almost 30 calories (28.63, to be exact). So, your beer drinking is going to have to be creative if you’re going to balance out. To be sure you stock the correct combination in the fridge, you’ Il have to project your beer calories before you run. And, of course, you’re also going to need a calibrated wheel so you can know exactly how far you have actually run.

Let’s look at some possibilities for that 7.5-mile run, 734.62-calorie shortfall.

If you divide 734.62 by 4, you get 183.655 calories per beer. If you can find a beer that has exactly that many calories, you may proceed to consume four of them.

If you divide 734.62 by 5, you get 146.924 calories per beer. Find the beer that hits the magic number, and enjoy five of these before going off to sleep (or off to work, if you happen to be a morning runner).

Table Talk

Let’s see what we get by looking at the table. Schlitz Malt Liquor measures in at 184.6 calories per bottle. We can have four of these, and that’s a virtual match, but one perhaps reserved for only the bravest among us. More enticingly, the English brew Tolly Original Premium Ale gives us 145.55 calories per bottle. We can enjoy five of these, and it’s a wash. I personally prefer this choice—but, then, we all know that drinking five of the same beer, one after another, can quickly get dull. So I recommend the mix-and-match technique: the add-’emup-drink-’em-down approach to maintaining an intricate balance. This approach involves several steps and perhaps a few hours of advanced planning. It goes like this:

Step 1. Determine the mileage you’ re going torun ona given day before you go for your run. In this example, let’s assume it’s Sunday’s long run, and you’re planning 16 miles.

16 X 97.95 = 1,567.2 calories burned and just as many calories that must be made up through drinking the equivalent in beer.

Step 2. Come up with a combination of beers that suits your tastes, as well as your caloric requirements. Using the table, one possibility would be:

1 Tsingtao (China) 152.65 cal 152.65 cal total 1 Bass Ale (England) 159.75 cal 312.40 cal total 2 Red Stripe Lagers (Jamaica) 305.30 cal 617.70 cal total 5 Amstel Lights (Holland) 497.00 cal 1,114.70 cal total 1 Guinness Extra Stout (Ireland) 152.65 cal 1,267.35 cal total 1 Colt 45 Malt Liquor (U.S.) 173.95 cal 1,441.30 cal total

1 Cerveza Carta Blanca (Mexico) 127.80 cal 1,569.10 cal total

Don’t worry about the extra two calories. The lime served with the Cerveza counts as negative calories, so you’re probably still ahead of the game.

Step 3. Now, in the unlikely event that your tastes aren’t exactly the same as mine, find your own combination of beers that adds up to the total calories you want to achieve through your beer drinking. Then go out and buy the desired beers (cold, if possible). Beware that some states do not sell beer on Sundays, and some counties are totally dry.

Step 4. Once you have purchased the beers, place only the ones you have designated for today in the fridge, so they’ II be cold when you return from your run. Then, go out and run, run, run. Then come back and drink, drink, drink.

The next day, repeat steps | through 4, adjusting for the distance you plan to run that day. It’s kind of like Jelly Belly jellybeans for adults. Mix and match to suit your own personal tastes.

Match Your Taste

As you proceed in your training regimen, you’ll want to be conscious of the number of calories you’ re balancing, and you even may want to consider beers that can be as specific as your training goals. We need any advantage we can get, right?

Suppose you’ re trying to qualify for Boston. You’ re following that famous 800-meter repeat training plan, which is supposed to give you a good indicator of your marathon time.

What better way to follow up 800-meter repeats than with an Olde English Brand 800 Malt Liquor?

Each 12 ounces is 170.4 calories. The complicated thing is that the common can of this brew is 16 ounces. So the total caloric tally per can would actually be 227.2 calories. At 97.5 calories per mile, you would be burning calories at arate of 48.75 calories per 800 meters (approximately 1/2 mile). If you did 5 X 800 @ 48.75 per 800 (calories, not seconds), it looks like this: 800 @ [5 x 48.75] = 243.75 calories burned. Youll still lose weight because your caloric deficit is 16.55 or 243.75 — 227.2 = 16.55.

The solution is to do 15 X 800: 800 @ [15 X 48.75] = 731.25 calories burned.

Then drink three Olde English 800s: OE 800 @ [3 X 227.2] = 681.6.

The imbalance is easily reconciled by drinking one nonalcoholic Kallber All Natural Nonalcoholic Brew, with a caloric count of 49.70 for 12 ounces. Bull’s-eye!

Quit drinking beer? How can I? I am forced to drink in self-defense. I take comfort that health experts now say a beer a day may be better for you than total abstinence. By extension, can you ever get too much of a good thing? I’m

probably guaranteed good health through the year 3510 by now. Besides, we all have to do our part to contribute to the balance of nature (and the bathroom scale). So bring on the pizza, sub sandwiches, and cookies—but, most important, keep doing your math, and keep chugging that beer. After all, do you know how many bananas you’d have to eat to make up for five miles?

GOING POSTAL!

When Tapering Gets Out of Control, It’s Best to Drive Your Neighborhood Nuts

Okay, so I’m officially in taper mode for the Myrtle Beach Marathon, even though I really haven’t been training too well for itin the first place. Butit’s still cool to use the word “taper”—at least until you research the definitions.

Merriam Webster’s defines “taper” as “to become progressively smaller toward one end.” I don’t know about anyone else, but when I taper, I get gradually larger in my end, as well as every place else. But using the word “taper” makes me feel like a real runner, and it allows me the perceived rite of going “taper-nutty” with all this extra energy I allegedly have because of my drastically reduced mileage.

I set out this morning to run an easy 5-1/2 tapering miles (which, when ’m not in taper mode, is my normal run). Since I’m in taper mode, I knew I had to do something with this bundle of energy and nerves that suddenly defines who Iam. I needed some kind of distraction to keep my mind off the race itself, so I decided to do something I’ ve never done before. As I ran, I started counting mailboxes on the route. Why? Well, that’s just the type of thing they say tapering makes you do. I guess you could say that on today’s run, I decided to “go postal.”

At first, the counting was easy. My mind was fresh, and every new mailbox was anew experience. Forget that the neighborhood homeowner’s association says they all have to be basic black. Still, every mailbox I passed represented another milestone, as it was added to the cumulative total. Everything was going very smoothly until I came upon the 12th mailbox into my run. This mailbox was subtly different than the previous 11. The flag was up.

Ah, mail waiting to be picked up and a taper-induced introduction to anew self-inflicted challenge. Could I possibly categorize all the mailboxes as I ran, keeping track of both the cumulative total of the letter containers I passed, as well as those that actually contained letters of some sort? I’ bet you a dozen first-class stamps that whoever invented the mailbox flag was a runner who started out with the same idea as I had as I started today’s run. But because the

Michael Selman BY THENUMBERS ® 47

flag hadn’t been invented yet, he had to stop at every mailbox on the route and open it to see if there was any mail inside, thus drastically slowing his run. They say “necessity is the mother of invention,” and this is a glaring case in point.

As I got farther into my run, I found it a little more difficult to count each individual box and subdivide each as “letterful” or “letterless” without it all becoming a blur. My mind tried to wander, but this marathon training is all about mental toughness. I had to stay focused on the task at hand. But as I proceeded on my merry way, I found myself taking first-class shortcuts. I started looking down the road, mentally counting every fifth mailbox and keeping my eyes focused on the fifth one down until I passed it. Then, I’d just add five more to my previous total, as well as sort the mail flags in my mind.

A Way Better Chronograph

At about Mailbox Number 145, I started dreaming up one of those ideas that really only seems sterling during the run itself. I realized that there’s an urgent need for a different kind of runner’s watch. A 100-lap capacity is hardly enough for this type of running. The runner who decides to go postal needs at least a 2,500 split capacity for those long runs around neighborhood roads.

Wouldn’t it be great to mark every mailbox with its own split time? Just think: on a route that covers 1,000 mailboxes, if you improved by only one second on each mailbox-to-mailbox stretch, that would be an improvement of over 16 minutes. The most significant advantage, however, is that you wouldn’t have to painfully count each mailbox, as I did today. It would all be saved on your good old Casio. Of course, you’d need a running log with plenty of room . .. Say four pages for each day, to document all the splits.

It’s amazing what you notice when you suddenly decide to become aware.

As Yogi Berra, a man with a great philosophical mind, once said, “You can observe a lot by just watching.” As I continued my mailbox count, I started to notice other things I had never seen before, even though I run the same streets almost every day. Over the course of today’s run, I saw three mailboxes that had large pink ribbons affixed to them. Imagine that. Three new baby girls, probably all born within the last week. Three joyous households, sheltering lives that have now changed their own lives forever in a most special way.

I became aware of other things for the first time as well.

Almost every front yard had some kind of green man-made protrusion sticking out of it. Either a telephone pedestal, or an electrical junction box, or a cable box, or something that would force landscapers to drag out the weedwhacker every time the lawn was mowed. I said to myself, “If all this stuff is buried underground, what are all the overhead wires for?” I looked up. There was nota single overhead wire in the whole neighborhood. Hmmm. I wondered

if it had been that way for years. Or had all the digging and burying occurred as I slept last night? I guess one good thing about tapering is that it helps you sleep soundly. Especially after a few beers.

Anyway. Another thing I noticed? The great number of fire hydrants in my neighborhood. Why, a fire wouldn’t even think about starting here. But should I count these hydrants, too? And what about these empty trash cans out on the curb? Thinking back, I recalled that today was Monday. Trash pickup had been last Wednesday, five days ago. Where were all these people saving this week’s trash while deciding who’s going to retrieve the receptacle from the curb?

My shocking observations continued. Although Christmas was well over a month behind us now, I found plenty of people still in the Christmas spirit, based on the decorations hanging from their houses. I thought they had better get them down soon before it was time to put them up again.

A Numbers Kind of Guy

This might surprise some of you, but I’ m starting to realize that deep down and well hidden out of view Iam a numbers man. As I continued my taper run, I was carefully counting everything—mailboxes, mailbox flags, garbage cans, baby girls, and Christmas decorations still adorning houses—and looking forward to learning what the final tallies would be. A mere five miles later, I had my answers:

The final count on the mailboxes was 243, or an average of one every 119.5061728395061728395061728395 1 feet of my run. This total included 19 from which the mailperson would be removing letters later in the day.

That means that only 7.818930041152263374485596798781% of all the mailboxes had mail to be picked up. Doesn’t anyone write letters anymore? Plus, I’m sure this paltry figure also included bills. Maybe people still write letters and just don’t pay bills anymore. Or maybe people just do everything they used to do through the mail over the Internet. Sad thought.

I counted 73 fire hydrants. Of those, 41 were painted silver, 12 green, 11 yellow, and the remaining 9 bright red. That’s one hydrant for every 3.3287671238767 123287671 houses. I guess that’s why my homeowner’s insurance is as reasonable as it is. I’m surprised, however, that the inconsistency of the colors is not a violation of one of the homeowners’ policies.

A whopping 19 families were storing nearly week-old garbage somewhere in their houses. Perhaps someone should check to see if those people are still alive.

Finally, 23 houses were still displaying Christmas decorations—24 if you count the electric menorah in the front bay window of the Cohens’ house.

So, what does all this mean? Are you suspecting that perhaps I drank my calorie-balancing 3.5 beers before my run?

No, it just goes to show that while you’ re in taper mode, your mind can do funny things. I’ll never look at my neighborhood quite the same again.

I’M GETTING MILES FOR CHRISTMAS

When the End of the Year Comes, It’s Time to Reward Yourself

Non-anal-retentives may turn to the next article now, preferably using a slightly moistened right thumb and index finger to turn the page.

Okay, now that they’re gone, let’s continue.

This year, I’m going to complete my very first ultra on Christmas Day, and I’m going to do it before even rolling out of bed. In fact, I’ll be ready to open presents before the kids wake up, and I may even do an easy five-miler later in the day. This article will detail how I’m going to achieve this feat and how you can, as well.

If you’re still with me, you’re well aware that we’ re getting to the time of year where we can’t resist the temptation to take a glance back and see where this running life has taken us in the past year. As the final month of 2001, the “true” first full year of the new millennium, approaches, we look back at where we’ ve been since we kicked off the year on January 1, and we look ahead to that finish line known as December 31. And we ask ourselves some very important questions:

* Did we achieve our running goals for the year?

° Have we stayed healthy and not missed days because of injury or time constraints?

° How many miles do we still need to meet or exceed our mileage objectives for the year?

In short, we ask ourselves if we have stayed on target with our training and if we still have a chance to fulfill our running dreams. Allow me at this time to share with you this quirky little documentation problem I have with my daily running log.

Well, I suppose it’s not really a problem, so to speak—or if it is, it’s one I don’t particularly want to rectify. You see, I am a “fractional junkie.” In other words, whenever I do a run, I always make sure my course measurements are just a tad bit lengthier than the totals I write in my runner’s log. This ensures that nobody can ever call me a cheat with my total mileage. The names Michael Selman and Rose Ruiz will never be used in the same sentence (except for the

one you just read). I refer to my fractional miles as my “junk miles” because I’ve just been tossing them out, like yesterday’s newspaper.

During this morning’s glorious 11.07-milerun, I started to cogitate about all those little fractions I’ve accumulated throughout the year. I realized that the 11 miles would be documented in my little red book, but that the .07 mile would fall in the same recycling bin as all my other fractional runs I’ ve accumulated throughout the year, never to be seen again.

If the 11.07 had been dollars and cents, instead of miles, I would have thrown the extra seven cents into the large jar I keep beside my bed, along with all the other change I had accumulated throughout the year. Of course, it’s possible to get carried away. I was obsessed with gathering change to the point that I bought the same meal for lunch every day because it cost $5.25, yielding three wonderful quarters to throw into my jar. Seventy-five cents a day, five days a week, added up to a $3.75 weekly contribution. A tasteless and bland lunch every day became secondary to the almighty quarter.

Change Is Good—Really

I didn’t stop there. I delighted in putting $9.10 worth of gas in my car, paying in cash to get 90 cents in change, soon to fall clinking into my coin jar. ?’d buy groceries on a daily basis, bringing my calculator along to figure out the total cost, adding taxes, so I could ensure maximum change from my purchase. I’d buy 10 stamps from the machine at the post office and slip in a twenty-dollar bill. The change that gushed out in the coin return sounded like a Vegas jackpot. I discovered a vending machine that accepted dollar bills, but if you changed your mind about the purchase after you inserted the bill, it would return quarters. I visited that machine every day, and I changed my mind a lot.

Go ahead, laugh away. But at the beginning of every June, as has become recent tradition, I get out my coin sleeves and separate and roll all the pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters. Then, I carry it to the bank and trade it in for “real” money, which pays for my (and my wife’s) annual trek to the Rock’n’Roll Marathon. Our package includes airfare, hotels, and all meals. It covers everything but tips. (Have you ever given a Skycap three dollars for a two-dollar tip and asked for 95 cents back? Geeze, you’d think you weren’t even doing them a favor by giving them the extra nickel.)

As I continued on my run, I started to wonder if perhaps fractional miles might add up in much the same way as fractional dollars. I realized that I’ve been building up fractional mileage all year long, which I’ ve never logged. Pm certain I’m not alone in my “round-down” method of logging my miles. I stand firm in the belief that if my standard courses don’t fall exactly on the quarter mile, I have no choice but to round down to the next nearest one. I refuse to

round up because I would never allow myself to log a run longer than I have actually run. The simple truth is, I feel that the totals just work very nicely in quarter-mile increments. And the only direction I round is down.

So when I got back from this run, I quickly pulled out my 2001 runner’s log and started adding up the hidden fragments, starting with the 10K Resolution Run I did on January 1. My log said “6 miles.” Chi-ching went the .2 mile into the bank.

Now, [had to look at all the various routes I habitually run. First, there’s my 4-mile loop around the neighborhood, which is actually 4.12 miles. I also have my 5.5-mile loop, which is actually 5.55 miles. Ah, and then there’s my 8-mile route, which measures in at almost 8.2 miles, but I could never call it 8.25. (It actually started life as a 7.8-mile route, but I needed it to be at least 8 miles, so added an extra little out-and-back, and it ended up being 8.2 or a very nice 8.)

Then there is the aforementioned 11.07-mile loop, which traverses some beautiful upper-crust neighborhoods near my home.

Thad to be sure the air pressure in my car tires was calibrated according to manufacturer’s specs as I measured this one, cutting all the tangents as I rode it. Fortunately, I forced a relatively low number of other vehicles off the roads as I measured it. Of course, multiples of any of these loops or routes only compound the miles in the bank.

Playing Crazy Eights

Next, I sorted out my longer run discrepancies. When I’m running higher mileage, I travel down to Cochran Shoals Park by the Chattahoochee River, a popular location for Atlanta runners to train. There is a nice out-and-back 8mile flat-as-a-pancake route that most believe is actually about 8.2 miles. It includes 5 miles of paved roads, marked in quarter-mile increments, and a 3mile loop on the trails by the river, which conventional wisdom says is actually 3.2 miles. This 8.2-mile route is not to be confused with my other, more hilly 8.2-mile route. On this one, you can conveniently add additional loops of 3.2 miles to increase the distance of the long run, or repeat the entire out-and-back, or any fraction thereof, down to that magical quarter-mile increment. So ifIend up doing an 8-mile out-and-back and one additional trail loop, although it’s logged as 11 miles, in reality, it’s 11.4.

Now, we’re talking big fractions. I do most of my long runs down by the river.

And then, of course, there are the races. Three marathons and more than a handful of half-marathons, a 15K, a couple 10Ks, and some 5K races, all rounded down to the next lower quarter mile. There were hidden miles to be excavated there, too. This was indeed to be a labor of love. I spent the better part

of the rest of the day with my log in hand, reviewing every run, and seeing where Icould pinch an extra fraction of a mile out of each run. Here was my final tally:

Routine training runs:

4 miles 96 @ 4.12 mi (loggedas 4) 96 X .12 = 11.52 junk miles 5.5 miles 68 @ 5.55 mi (logged as 5.5) 68 X .05 = 3.4 junk miles 8 miles 45 @ 8.2 mi (logged as 8.0) 45 X .2 =9 junk miles

11.07 miles 23 @ 11.07 mi (logged as 11.0) 23 X .07 = 1.61 junk miles Total junk miles from routine training runs = 25.53 miles

Long runs:

8 miles 24 @ 8.2 mi (logged as 8) 24 X .2 = 4.8 junk miles 11 miles 11 @ 11.4 mi (logged as 11) 11 X .4=4.4 junk miles 16 miles 12 @ 16.4 mi (logged as 16) 12 X .4=4.8 junk miles 18 miles 2 @ 18.4 mi (logged as 18) 2 X .4=.8 junk mile

19.5 miles 1 @ 19.6 mi (logged as 19.5) 1 X .1 =.1 junk mile Total junk miles from long runs = 14.9 miles

Races:

Marathons 3 @ 26.2 mi (logged as 26) 3 X .2=.6 junk mile Half-marathons 2@ 13.1 mi (logged as 13) 2 X .1 =.2 junk mile

15K 1 @ 9.3 mi (logged as 9.25) 1 X .05 = .05 junk mile 10Ks 2 @ 6.2 mi (loggedas6) 2X .2=.4 junk mile 8K 1 @ 4.97 mi (logged as 5) oops!

SKs 4 @ 3.1 mi (loggedas3) 4X .1=.4 junk mile

Total junk miles from races = 1.65 miles

Cumulative totals: 25.53 miles from routine training run + 14.9 miles from long runs + 1.65 miles from races = 42.08 total junk miles.

So, there you have it. The total number of miles I withheld from myself for the year has been 42.08 miles. In keeping with the spirit, PI] round it down to an even 42 miles. Now, the looming question is what am I going to do with this newfound wealth? Fear not. I have the answer.

I think those 42 miles would make a lovely stocking stuffer. All I have to do is roll out of bed on Christmas morning, head directly to my runner’s log, and document my longest run ever. And I’ll even have .08 mile to put into my Christmas Club Account for next year, getting myself off to a good start.

Now the tough question: how many extra beers do I need to drink to ef make up for those 42 miles?

Michael Selman BY THE NUMBERS ® 53

Pain,

a Endorphins, and & = Runner’s High

The Human Body Has a Tremendous Capacity to Endure Painful Times.

Bee RUNNER is well acquainted with pain. Whether we medicate or endure it, whether we complain aloud or maintain a quiet stoicism, every runner has experienced myriad forms of pain.

Fear of pain prevents some from running or pursuing a marathon. For others, the pain of exertion is met as an old friend, a satisfying soreness confirming the intensity of effort. Experience teaches the runner to discern between pain that portends serious injury from the benign pain associated with a rigorous workout.

Pain can be frustratingly difficult to describe or characterize. It can be precise or deceptive, a tightly defined sensation or an amorphous, emotional feeling. Emotions and many other experiences influence the perception of pain. Soldiers in battle and athletes in competition may tolerate major injuries, nearly oblivious to any degree of pain. At other times, anxiety and expectation can exacerbate a relatively minor intrusion, such as the sting of aneedle in a doctor’s office.

Dr. George Sheehan, physican and running philosopher, once said, “to keep from decaying, to be a winner, the athlete must accept pain—not only accept it, but look for it, live with it, learn not to fear it.” Understanding the physiology, psychology, and medication of pain can help the runner interpret the sensation and react appropriately.

THE SENSATION OF PAIN

The sensation of pain, nociception, involves a complex array of interactions that have been meticulously mapped and characterized. Tissue damage constitutes the initial stimulus for the sensation of pain via two classes of receptors. One type senses the sharp, prickling pain caused by thermal or mechanical injury. The other, overlapping with the first, responds to higher intensity mechanical, chemical, or hot stimuli. With endless resourcefulness, athletes find ways to trigger every possible pain receptor, in skin, deep tissues, and joints.

Once activated, these pain receptors relay the signal to the spinal cord via neurons, the elongated cells that comprise nerve fibers. From neuron to neuron, the signal is communicated up the spinal cord to the brain. No fewer than five distinct nociceptive pathways carry information along the spinal cord.

Upon reaching the brain, a web of signals is dispatched. In the brain, pain is comprehended, placed into context, and manipulated by several mental processes. Emotion, for example, powerfully influences the perception of pain. Childbirth is a classic example in which elation tempers the severity of pain. The extreme emotions engendered by athletic competition, from despair to euphoria, can magnify or dampen the perception of pain.

Remarkably, additional signals are sent from the brain back down the spinal cord to the site of injury. Stimulation of certain sites in the brain, such as the periventricular gray region, witha tiny electrical current, can induce analgesia. These areas of the brain project neurons back down the spinal cord to suppress the activity of pain-sensing pathways.

Pain is also modulated by other sensations, a phenomenon explained by the gate-control theory. Some neurons, relaying information about nonpainful sensations, block nearby neurons in pain-sensing pathways. Simplistically, the spinal cord and mind do not have the capacity to monitor all sensations equally, so transmission through some pain pathways may be intermittently inhibited. Runners are inundated with sensations, painful and otherwise, so plenty of noxious stimuli go unnoticed.

Given the intricate anatomy of pain-sensing pathways and the numerous inputs and manipulations, it is not surprising that the mind, on occasion, misperceives painful stimuli. Miscues and mixed signals result in phenomena such as referred pain, phantom pain, and some chronic pain syndromes.

Referred pain is the perception of pain in one part of the body, although the sensation originated elsewhere. Pain fibers in the spinal cord often receive input from more than one site, and the brain is sometimes unable to differentiate among inputs. Pain from a heart attack can be felt as pain in the left arm or jaw. Similarly, pain in a runner’s hip can be caused by arthritis of the knee.

Amputees can suffer from phantom pain in an absent limb. When a pain fiber is cut, traveling to the spinal cord, within the spinal cord, or within the brain, the pain pathway can become chronically activated instead of permanently silenced. Attempts have been made to cure chronic pain syndromes by surgically severing the pathways that conduct painful stimuli at virtually every

Benjamin Ebert PAIN, ENDORPHINS, AND RUNNER’S HIGH M55

level. These surgical interventions have proved unreliable and should not be considered as an effective option for athletes in pain.

In some chronic pain syndromes, the perception of pain is initiated in the brain; nociception is absent. Even if pain receptors are not activated by tissue damage, the perception of pain can be every bit as real and devastating and much more difficult to treat. Anti-inflammatory and opiate medications are excellent treatments for nociception, but they are poor therapy for other pain syndromes.

Pain begins as an objective sensation, nociception, and evolves into ahighly subjective perception. The complex array of signals at the site of injury, in the spinal cord, and in the brain creates the potential for a multitude of responses to the same stimulus.

INFLAMMATION

The treatment of pain arising from athletic injuries is founded on the inextricable links among pain, injury, and inflammation. Rubor, calor, tumor, dolor, and functio laesa (redness, heat, swelling, pain, and loss of function) are the hallmarks of inflammation. Celsus, a Roman writer, enumerated the first four characteristics in the first century a.p.; Virchow, considered the founder of modern pathology, added the latter in the 19th century. From an insect bite to a sore knee, injury is universally recognized by these canonical symptoms.

Inflammatory responses are essential for healing. Damaged tissue, infections, and toxins are removed; tissues are repaired; and scar tissue is formed. However, in many cases, an overexuberant inflammatory response itself becomes the cause of injury. From arthritis to atherosclerosis, asthma to athletic injuries, maladaptive inflammation is the source of pathology.

From the moment of injury, inflammation is activated through chemicals, including bradykinin, serotonin, and prostaglandin E2 released from damaged cells and histamine released from immune cells, called mast cells. These chemicals cause an increase in blood flow to the site of injury, leaks in the walls of blood vessels allowing proteins and white blood cells to enter the tissues, and migration of white blood cells out of the circulation to the site of injury. The result is the characteristic inflammatory symptoms of redness, swelling, and warmth.

The very same chemicals, bradykinin chief among them, sensitize and activate pain receptors. As these chemicals leak into surrounding tissue, the entire area becomes more sensitive to pain, a phenomenon termed hyperalgesia. Substance P, a chemical used by nerve cells for the transmission of pain signals, helps further the inflammatory process.

The initial inflammatory response may be beneficial, but chronic inflammation becomes the cause of many athletic injuries. Local ice application is a

safe, inexpensive, and effective way to attentuate the inflammatory process, particularly directly after exercise or injury. By constricting blood vessels and inhibiting inflammation at multiple levels, pain and further inflammatory injury are blocked.

The primary medications for pain and inflammation, particularly for athletic injuries, are nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs (NSAIDs), including aspirin, ibuprofen, naproxen, and many others. The fundamental interconnection between inflammation and pain is the basis for the analgesic effects of these drugs. NSAIDs block the enzyme cyclo-oxygenase that produces prostaglandin E2 and other inflammatory chemicals.

NSAIDs also inhibit enzymes in the stomach that lead to protection against damage from acid. Thus, long-term use of NSAIDs can lead to ulcers and irritation of the stomach. Despite this caveat, NSAIDs are the effective and safe predominant pharmaceutical for all runners. Taking NSAIDs with meals helps avoid damage to the stomach’s lining. Avoiding NSAIDs during periods of dehydration helps prevent damage to the kidneys. High doses or long-term use of these medications should be taken under the guidance of a physician.

Cortisol is a steroid hormone produced in the adrenal glands. Drugs with similar properties, such as cortisone, powerfully shut down inflammatory processes. Injections of cortisone into a joint can extinguish inflammation and pain so effectively that an athlete can continue to use and (further) injure a severely damaged joint without feeling pain.

Acetaminophen (such as Tylenol), in contrast to NSAIDs or steroids, has analgesic but not anti-imflammatory properties. Mild pain may be alleviated, but the source of the pain, the underlying inflammation, is not affected.

Recognition that a nagging pain reflects underlying inflammation allows a runner to respond with rest, ice, or medication. Pain is a necessary alert to the presence of tissue damage, but inflammation can rapidly progress from a healing process to the source of ongoing injury.

USE AND ABUSE OF OPIATES AND OTHER PAIN MEDICATIONS

Morphine is named for Morpheus, the Greek god of dreams. Indeed, morphine was used in ancient Greece, Rome, and Egypt. For thousands of years before the advent of modern medical treatments, morphine was an effective treatment for pain, anxiety, insomnia, diarrhea, and coughing. Today, morphine and other members of the opiate family remain invaluable drugs, alleviating pain and suffering caused by injuries, surgery, and many terminal diseases.

Morphine is the prototype of the class of drugs called opiate agonists, compounds that bind to opiate receptors to inhibit the perception of pain. Other

Benjamin Ebert PAIN, ENDORPHINS, AND RUNNER’S HIGH M57

opiate agonists include codeine, fentanyl, oxycodone, methadone, and heroin. Opiate antagonists, such as naloxone, have the reverse effect: They block and reverse the effects of agonists such as morphine. Within minutes of receiving naloxone, an unconscious patient who overdosed on heroin or another opiate will be awake, alert, and often quite displeased with the sudden sensation of withdrawal. Still other drugs have properties that lie part of the way between agonists and antagonists.

Use of opiates is limited because of concerns of addiction to these drugs, but this potential problem is often misunderstood by both the general public and physicians. Tolerance, physical dependence, and psychological addiction are three distinct concepts that are often confused. Tolerance means that gradually escalating doses of medication are required to achieve the same effect. Physical dependence refers to the syndrome of withdrawal from opiates that occurs when the medication is discontinued after prolonged treatment.

Psychological addiction is the compulsive use of a drug, usually caused by the sensations of euphoria, indifference, and sedation induced by the opiates. Addiction encompasses behaviors such as increasing opiate doses without the authorization of a physician or continued use despite negative consequences. While tolerance and physical dependence are inevitable consequences of opiate use, addiction is not.

Athletes who undergo surgery or who suffer serious injuries, such as a broken bone, will often be prescribed opiate medications. For this type of acute, severe, and reversible pain, opiates are excellent medications. For chronic injuries or chronic pain, opiates should be avoided due to tolerance, physical dependence, and the physiology of chronic pain syndromes.

ENDORPHINS AND THE RUNNER’S HIGH

Athletes willingly endure hardships that are strange and incomprehensible to nonathletes. Persevering through extremes of exhaustion and weather, longdistance runners seem partially anesthetized to physical discomfort. Studies show that when resting, athletes and more sedentary individuals have the same sensitivity to pain. Exercise itself powerfully raises the threshold of pain, mitigating soreness and pain during the intensity of exertion.

One of the most fascinating discoveries in the field of pain research was the identification of endogenous opioids, otherwise known as endorphins. Endorphins are small proteins produced by the body with effects similar to those of the opioid drugs. Three classes of endorphins have been identified, all with a similar structure, and they all act by binding to opiate receptors on the surface of cells. This discovery elucidates the tremendous efficacy of morphine and other opiate drugs: the drugs work because they mimic endogenous opioids.

Exercise increases the production of endorphins in certain areas of the brain. Naloxone, a drug that blocks opiate receptors and is often used to reverse the effects of morphine and heroin, also blocks exercise-induced analgesia. An incomplete response to naloxone in some studies has raised the possibility of endorphin and non-endorphin mechanisms contributing to exercise-induced analgesia.

The psychological and physiological effects of endorphins have not been fully characterized, but they are likely to be integral to countless sensations familiar to athletes. On some memorable occasions, perhaps after a burst of endorphin release, a runner is said to hit a stride, to experience a “second wind” or arunner’s high. The sensation of pain is diminished. The body glides with fluid efficiency, feet seeming barely to touch the ground. The runner becomes a detached observer, monitoring painful stimuli as a racecar driver follows gauges indicating engine performance. Perhaps endorphins are also partially responsible for the feeling of profound relaxation after a strenuous run, a state of calm satisfaction and equanimity.

Observation of patients in an emergency room or runners at a race provides ample evidence of disparate responses to pain. Differences in the activity of endorphins may explain part of this variation. The genes encoding the human endorphins and their receptors vary subtly among individuals. These genetic differences, or polymorphisms, may partially explain variability in pain thresholds among individuals.

Stoicism may be founded in biology and genetics in addition to being a psychological and philosophical perspective. For perseverance, runners owe at least some credit to endorphins that effectively buffer much of their potential suffering.

THE ATHLETE’S RESPONSE TO PAIN: NO PAIN, NO GAIN

Running is the source of innumerable noxious stimuli and bodily complaints. Most are harmless twinges, reminders of physical exhaustion. A catalog of the multitude of sports injuries is far beyond the scope of this article. Accurate diagnosis often requires a detailed history, physical examination, and radiographic imaging. The experienced marathoner compiles an extensive mental database correlating particular sensations of sore joints and aching muscles with specific injuries or benign soreness. The pain of impending injury is recognized and heeded while the pangs of severe exertion are calmly ignored.

Recognition of the connection between pain and inflammation is essential for appropriate treatment. Rest, ice, and anti-inflammatory medications are the mainstay of therapy for overuse injuries. A more sophisticated analysis of risks

Benjamin Ebert PAIN, ENDORPHINS, AND RUNNER’S HIGH # 59

and benefits is required before using more serious medications, from cortisol to opiates. Overtreatment of pain, muting the critical systems that warn of ongoing damage, can unwittingly cause athletes to suffer severe or permanent damage.

Endorphins are extraordinarily valuable for making running tolerable and enjoyable. Without the release of endorphins during exercise, marathons and ultramarathons would be exceedingly unpleasant and unpopular. Release of endorphins in a controlled fashion in particular areas of the brain is a fascinating process with countless manifestations.

An interesting and ironic phenomenon develops as some people become serious athletes. Some athletes grow to anticipate, strive for, and even relish the sensation of pain. “No pain, no gain” is the oft-repeated maxim of competitive athletes. Those who “yearn for the burn” seek the accumulation of lactic acid in the muscles. The pain signifies an effort worthy of self-congratulation. Perhaps for some the painful effort may become associated, through Pavlovian conditioning, with the reward of an endorphin rush. To feel pain indicates the achievement of a level of intensity that athletes crave.

Even for those who deny frank masochism, perseverance through aversive stimuli may be requisite for the rewards of running. As physiological compensation, high levels of exertion are met with a release of endorphins and their attendant effects on pain and mood. Exploration of the limits of physical exhaustion and pain gives athletes access to a broad spectrum of human experience.

For some, triumph over the pain of exertion in a marathon or ultra provides a simple allegory for the trials and complex difficulties in everyday life.

Pain is the most subjective of sensations. A broad range of other sensations, thoughts, and emotions alter the perception of pain. The complex web of interacting pathways that govern the sensation of pain provides endless sites of regulation. Dozens of chemicals are involved, from those that mediate inflammation at the site of tissue damage to the endogenous opiates that modulate the perception of pain in the brain.

The complexity of pain makes it frustratingly difficult to describe, comprehend, and diagnose. Yet perhaps running requires just such a system. Only such a system can alert an athlete to the slightest tissue injury, yet not be a hindrance at the peak of exertion. Amidst the stress and pain of a marathon or ultra, endorphins provide both relief and reward. est

In My Father’s Footsteps

When My Dad Calls, | Sometimes End Up Doing Very Strange Things—Like Running Six-Day Desert Races.

O NE SUNDAY morning as I sat at my kitchen table in Los Angeles nursing a hangover and smoking a cigarette, my father called me on the phone: “I’ve registered you for next year’s Marathon des Sables,” he said.

Gulp. I nearly choked. “Dad, you did what?”

For those of you who don’t know, the Marathon des Sables (MDS) is a seven-day, 145-mile race through the Sahara Desert in Morocco in nearly full self-sufficiency—the race organizers provide only Berber tents at night and nine liters of water a day.

Since my father had competed in the MDS six times, I had seen the videotapes and heard the horror stories of blisters and exhaustion in this outdoor torture chamber for masochists. I had also seen the fierce gleam of near-madness in the competitors’ eyes at the finish line. They looked like men and women in the throes of epiphany. During a brief episode of imprudence, I had told my father I’d like to see what that felt like. Apparently, he had taken me at my word.

As soon as I hung up the phone, my sense of adventure and determination took over—not to mention my desire to get back in shape. Since my first and only year of college tennis, nine years earlier, I had laced up my running shoes only a few sporadic times. The desire had been there, but my willpower was never strong enough for me to follow through. Now I had a whole 10 months to prepare for one of the world’s worst endurance nightmares.

So, four times a week, I headed off to the Hollywood Hills or Venice Beach. The first day, Iran 30 minutes and woke up the next morning aching from waist to toes. A month later, I passed the 13-mile mark, and in November, after five months of training, I competed in my first marathon, in Long Beach.

With a pinched sciatic nerve, I hobbled across the finish line in 4:40. I couldn’t run for six weeks afterward, and even long walks aggravated the

nerve. As the new year rolled in, I was growing apprehensive. The Marathon des Sables was in early April, just a little over three months off. By February, I was downright terrified.

My father calmed my fears by telling me that only the most experienced ultramarathoners would be running all the way. Most participants gruel it out and walk more than half the race. He told me to fill an old backpack with 25 pounds of water and walk, walk, walk.

So I walked everywhere with my backpack. On weekends, I would go hiking all day and even start jogging for short periods from lack of patience and growing confidence. I averaged about 70 miles a week, and a month before the race I did an approximate simulation of 110 miles over six days. I was beginning to feel confident that I was physi- Buoyed by excitement, exuberance, and cally and mentally strong anticipation, Eric packs his bag on the first enough. day in Morocco.

MOMENTS OF DOUBT

Two days before my father and I were to leave for Morocco, the fear gripped me that I had not prepared well enough to enjoy the thrill of an ultramarathon. Just a year before, I’d been smoking a pack of cigarettes a day and partying as if I were still in college. When I joined up with the runners in Ouarzazate, I felt like a fresh recruit on his first tour of duty, surrounded by hardened veterans on the front line of battle.

During the two days at the main encampment, we had our bags checked and weighed, submitted medical info, relaxed, trained, or meditated. I met more people like myself: men and women who were in it mainly for the challenge of surpassing themselves and with a goal of simply finishing.

My anxiety dissipated; I felt buoyed by excitement, exuberance, and anticipation.

At the starting line Sunday morning, I prepared to leave my father to amble at his own pace while I readied myself to tear off north and tackle the jagged

ashen hills that lay across our path. “Don’t forget—it’s a long way to the finish line!” my father yelled after me.

I soon fell into a fast walk with short-time travel companion Rory, who convinced me to take it slow at first. He had competed in several Marathon des Sables and had placed ninth in the test run of the Desert Cup last November: a 104-mile race that Patrick Bauer, the organizer of the MDS, had set up in Jordan. “The first two days are a cinch. Save your energy,” Rory said. “You’ll be passing a bunch of these guys by day four.”

Rory was right. The first two days—17 and 21 miles, respectively, with relatively flat, rocky terrain and only a few minor sand dunes—were strolls in the park compared to the devastating third day, dubbed “Dune Day.”

The morning of the third day, we were told that 11 of the day’s 23 miles were large sand dunes. We would be supplied with only three liters of water, so proper water rationing was essential. This was the 15th annual and Year 2000 edition of the MDS, and Bauer was intent on stamping it with particular difficulty.

The elements conspired in Bauer’s favor. Night winds had been our constant companion since the day we’d arrived. We awoke every morning with crusty sand clots in our eyes, mouths, and noses—and in our freeze-dried meals. During the day, the temperature soared, peaking at 120 degrees on the third day. Everyone except the top runners slowed to a walk; many stumbled like zombies through the furnace of the dunes. A few had removed their shoes, unable to bear the intense buildup of heat. If I didn’t yet doubt that I would reach the end of this stage, I did wonder whether heatstroke would prevent me from continuing the following day.

(L to R): Eric’s father Cedric, Eric, and a tentmate, before the starting line on the first day.

Within two hours I was caught against the backdrop of some nightmarish film. I sipped the water, which now tasted like melted plastic, and every half hour or so would come across yet another person lying on the flank of a sand dune, huddled under a survival blanket. The sky soon lit up with explosions of emergency flares, and eight people had to be evacuated by the end of the day.

IN SEARCH OF A TENT

There seemed no end in sight, as it was impossible to know what our pace was in the dunes or how much distance we had covered. We had been told that a small tent would be set up at the end of the dunes to supply us with a half liter of water before we tackled the last two-mile stretch to the encampment. At the top of every dune, we scanned the sea of sand for some semblance of salvation but found none.

I fell in with two other runners from Switzerland. We scrambled up the dunes with frustration, slid down the other side, and emptied our shoes every 15 minutes. Eventually, we saw the spire of a tent, and we cheered. I poured my remaining water over my swollen hands, and the three of us jogged the next mile to reach the tent—only to discover that it belonged to a group of Parisian tourists who had come to the desert for a spiritual retreat of silence. The irony! Instead of silence, they hosted over 650 parched competitors who filed through their camp begging for water. Eventually, the tourists broke their vows and allowed several competitors to collapse in the shade of their tent. Later, the race organizers flew in a small medical team to hook up an IV unit to treat the more severe cases of dehydration and exhaustion.

My Swiss companions and I pushed on, fueled by frustration and the grim determination not to be beat. Forty minutes later, we reached the merciful end of the dunes and ran the last two miles to the finish line, completing the stage in 5-1/2 hours.

I felt that I had emerged from a deep hypnosis that had alternated between dream and nightmare. Suddenly, I felt etched on my face the same manic expression I had seen in the videotapes back in Los Angeles. I’d rarely felt happier.

An hour later, I was ambling around the camp, waiting for my father. Everywhere I looked, the gleams in my comrades’ eyes reflected a mixture of exhilaration and exhaustion. I began to understand why my father returned year after year; I felt thankful he had given me the opportunity to share this highly spiced slice of life with him. Unfortunately, this year his adventure would be cut short, as on the third day he failed to make the cutoff time.

He had been tramping through the sand at a slow though constant pace, stopping from time to time to bolster those who were lapsing into a state of

depression, where the mind is unable to comprehend why it’s pushing the body to such extremes, and where the idea of finishing seems a ridiculous concept. My father and a small group of stragglers just plain didn’t make it in time. He faced his forced abandonment with a smile that disguised his disappointment, leaving me with congratulations at surviving the day and words of encouragement for the next long stage of 48 miles.

The start on the fourth day was delayed by a morning sandstorm. Huddled under our sleeping bags, we waited for the storm to abate. Finally, the race resumed at 9:45. My morale was low as we faced the first miles of more low sand dunes. My legs were stiff, and my hip hurt. I thought of the pinched sciatic nerve and dismally foresaw the end. But when the dunes gave way to some rough rocky terrain, I started jogging to try to regain some confidence.

A sandstorm delayed the start on the fourth day.

After the first checkpoint, my stomach started to act up, and my nose began to bleed. I ran out of toilet paper and had to tear out pages of a small paperback I carried for evening reading. My head was spinning, and the back of my calves felt as if they were being branded with hot coals. The temperature had climbed above 110, and it was difficult to keep water down.

TAKING STOCK

I tried to concentrate on small things: sipping water every five minutes, putting one foot in front of the other. I tried to avoid thinking of the next control point and the total distance to be covered. When I arrived at the second control point at one o’clock in the afternoon, I sat down in the shade of a Land Rover and assessed my situation. My stomach had calmed, my legs felt like blocks of concrete but didn’t really hurt, and I was blessed with an absence of blisters.

Eric Grant IN MY FATHER’S FOOTSTEPS @® 65

My father had told me how he believed he had avoided blisters in the past: carrying three pairs of socks and changing every few hours, hanging the wet ones outside his backpack to dry. It had worked for him, and so far it was working for me. I realized that with only aching muscles as the extent of my pains, I was very lucky indeed.

I forgot my ailments, and they stopped plaguing me. One of the doctors taped up my calves, and I started out for the next checkpoint in high spirits, singing songs, though my mind felt like a barbecued marshmallow.

I arrived at checkpoint 4 (mile 29) and rested for an hour at the official sleeping post for those who could not push on through the night. I basked for a while in the convivial atmosphere that reigned there among the participants, with myriad languages and smells floating in the air. Night was falling, rendering the desert landscape even more magical.

I affixed my headlamp and pushed on through the night for the remaining 19 miles in company of another Swiss competitor, Mark. Although I had wanted to face much of the race alone, it was good to have company at night and after so many miles.

We passed through amazing surroundings of palm trees, villages, patches of irrigated land, and a mystical Kasbah that seemed to have appeared out of the Middle Ages, with its candlelit alleys and towering clay walls. Figures huddled in the shadows, or they waved and cheered us on. We emerged from the Kasbah into another long stretch of sand dunes, and I took a few moments to sit atop a dune swathed by the bluish moonlight that shone on the desert like a Hollywood spotlight.

Mark and I finished the stage at just past one in the morning. At the end of the first three days, I had ranked in the lower 500s out of 680 competitors. We’d finished this stage somewhere around 250. Rory and my father had been right, and although my initial goal had been to forget about “racing” and just finish, Icouldn’t suppress a feeling of pride that I would in all likelihood finish relatively well.

The smile of relief on my father’s face was a warm welcome and great source of happiness. We had a definite connection. I was finally experiencing the camaraderie inherent to this race and testing my limits of endurance: which was the reason he returned each year. He just looked in my face, and I smiled back—and we knew.

MORE DROPOUTS

I was unable to fall asleep until five in the morning, but I rested all the next day as the remaining participants arrived throughout the day. Fifty more people dropped out during the fourth stage, and on the morning of the sixth day—the

marathon stage—those who’d survived did not doubt that they would now finish the race, even though we faced another 26 miles in the relentless heat.

I walked and jogged with another tentmate, Serge, who was suffering from severely inflamed tendons. He felt frustrated to be forced to shuffle along for seven hours when the marathon was his favorite distance, but he faced the day without complaining, his body pumping out endorphins in high doses. I’d begun to feel a slight onset of exhaustive depression and was happy to have his company for mutual moral support.

Camp that night was almost a party because no one was particularly worried about the last stage: 11 miles through two villages nestled in the Draa Wadi. Aside from the front-runners, the departure that day resembled the retreat of Napoleon’s wounded troops from Moscow. Yet everyone was cheering and smiling. Patrick Bauer greeted us all at the finish line with a hug, a word of thanks, and congratulations—and also a medal.

I finished the race somewhere in the middle of the pack, with only a dead toenail and minor blisters. I felt empty and drained, grasping at emotional straws. It would take several days for my accomplishment to sink in, and for several weeks afterward I was floating on a cloud, feeling obnoxiously proud and confident. All I could think was, “When can I run again?”

NEXT UP: JORDAN

The answer came easily. My next race would be the inaugural Desert Cup

run, and although he had dropped out after 40 miles, he was eager to return. I was excited but intimidated. The longest stage of the MDS had been just under 50 miles; this would be more than twice as long, and we wouldn’t have the luxury of a night’s rest between stages.

I gave myself very little time to recuperate, and soon after the MDS I fell ill for 10 days. When I started running several weeks later, I immediately felt a pain in my knee that I attributed to that poorly healed pinched nerve. I tried yoga and magnetism, saw physiotherapists and chiropractors, and something worked. But I was finding it difficult to feel inspired to exercise. My jagged year of preparation for the MDS weighed light in the balance against 10 years of dedicated laziness. I had little experience with consistent training, and I kept postponing the start of a rigorous training program.

At the end of August, fear finally motivated me. Once again, I loaded up a backpack with several gallons of bottled water, endured weekend hikes and occasional runs, and tried to walk as much as possible during the week. By the end of October, I was feeling in decent shape again, yet I was afraid it would not be enough. As my father said: “It’s like we’ re heading off to the guillotine.”

Eric Grant IN MY FATHER’S FOOTSTEPS 67

My success at completing the MDS gave me a degree of confidence in my mental reserves, however, and I tried not to think of the distance too much.

TO THE START LINE

The main encampment—and the start of the race—was nestled in Wadi Rum, a large dried-up riverbed, the largest of its kind in Jordan. We would then head south for 20 miles, veer east for about 10, then head north for the remaining 75 miles to arrive in the ancient Nabatean city of Petra, carved into the desert rock.

The Jordanian desert is as magical and serene as the rolling dunes of the Sahara. We could feel the weight of history among the sea of petrified rose-tinted rifts and large mountainous formations of limestone that spotted the landscape.

The 176 competitors arrived at the encampment late Sunday night. We spent the next day checking bags, submitting medical info, relaxing, warming up, and enjoying our last real meals served by the race organizers.

Here the stress was not on weight but on calories. Each competitor had to judge his or her approximate arrival time and submit an estimate of caloric needs. In addition, we had to carry an emergency reserve of 2,000 calories and 2-1/2 bottles of water, as well as the required emergency flare, flashlight, compass, whistle, sleeping bag, sweater, and windbreaker.

Once again, the weather was a factor, but this time it wouldn’t be the heat. Although temperatures reached 85 degrees during the day, they would drop to 40 at night. The seasonal high winds and the climb to 5,000 feet after mile 65 meant that the windchill factor could force temperatures below freezing.

The first edition of the Desert Cup began at 8:30 on a Tuesday morning with high-spirited cries. Very soon, the small stream of runners thinned out. My initial goal was to maintain a four-mph pace, change socks regularly, and rest for 15 minutes at every checkpoint. The checkpoints were set up every seven to nine miles.

The difficulty in maintaining that pace, however, was that each mile in the soft desert sand seemed equivalent in effort to two miles on hard terrain. We knew from our road books that the first 65 miles of the race consisted of this uneven, sandy terrain.

I managed to maintain my pace, at times jogging out of frustration or on the few occasions where the sand was hard enough to maintain stable footing. By mile 30, I was already starting to feel my legs, but my mind would not allow me to think of the total distance. When I became too fixated on elements of the race—distance, pain, fatigue—I’d take a moment to breathe in the panorama and snap some pictures with a disposable camera.

Atcheckpoint 3, as I was going through my regular ritual of changing socks, stretching, and eating my salt and magnesium, I overheard a conversation

among several race representatives regarding the whereabouts of a certain Cedric Grant. Apparently my father had reached and left the first checkpoint within the time limits, but he had not yet appeared at checkpoint 2. They had crisscrossed between the checkpoints by Land Rover but had found no sign of him.

WHERE’S DAD?

They told me not to worry, which of course was pointless. It was almost 4 o’clock in the afternoon, and night fell at 5 o’clock in Jordan in November. It was true, however, that there was nothing Icould do but continue the race and trust that my father’s good sense and good humor would see him through.

When night fell, I forgot my aches and pains. The moon was almost full, and it was easy to follow the trail withoutaheadlamp. The landscape became a sea of shadows and bluish light.

I joined a French chemist named Sala who had finished the test run the previous year in just over 30 hours but was now plagued with gastroenteritis. He shared a lot of advice with me during the three hours we spent together, warning me of the long climb up to 5,000 feet after mile 65. “Whatever you do, try to do the climb during the day,” he said. “At night it can become numbingly cold.”

We reached checkpoint 5 (mile 37) at 8 o’clock, and we parted ways. Sala decided to rest and try to eat something, whereas I wanted to push on until at least the halfway mark while my energy was still strong. Another reason was that I had nothing in my backpack that I was tempted to eat.

Ihad completely miscalculated my food rations. I had not wanted to bring along anything that required boiling water and had therefore lapsed into the other extreme, packing mainly energy gels and powders. When I saw another competitor take out some bread and cheese from his bag, I charged off into the night to avoid feeling like a dog watching another chew ona very large and tasty bone.

Ericand his dad before the start of the inaugural Desert Cup in Jordan in November 2000.

When I reached checkpoint 7, my spirits soared. I was five miles from the halfway mark and only 17 hours into the race. Even more comforting was that I was greeted at the checkpoint by Patrick Bauer, who told me they had found my father at 7 o’clock that evening. He had had to drop out of the race, but he was fine and had been asking anxiously for news of me. Apparently, he had been marching along to the sounds of ABBA on his Walkman and had completely lost track of the trail markers. They found him several hours later, sitting on a small hill, signaling with his lamp and mirror.

Irested for 20 minutes, brushed my teeth, changed my socks, and felt like anew man. I reached checkpoint 8 at 4 o’clock in the morning. I’d kept telling myself that I would catch some sleep here, but with dawn approaching, it felt so cold that I had no desire to lie down. Also, I was now sick and tired of having my feet sink in the soft sand and desperately wanted to reach the 65-mile mark and the beginning of solid ground.

The terrain had leveled out, and the sand was harder than before. I couldn’t see anyone ahead of or behind me, which somehow filled me with nervous energy. I ran for occasional bouts because running didn’t hurt much more than walking. At 100K, I watched the sun rise over the mountains in the distance and once again felt happy to be part of this adventure.

TODAY’S PHILOSOPHY

Irested for 45 minutes at checkpoint 9 before taking off with a Swiss competitor, Baudoin Dunand. I asked him how he felt, and he mirrored my thoughts on the effects of this race: “I no longer think about anything in particular. I’m both empty and fulfilled.” After 65 miles of uneven sand, he no longer had the energy to run.

He charged on ahead of me at a faster walk, however, as my morale slowly sunk out of my shoes. The relief of leaving behind the sand and hitting a gravel path did not last for long. It was a steady uphill climb in increasing heat. Icould already see the next checkpoint in the distance, but reaching it would take two hours of winding up and down and around what seemed like an immense quarry. The desert had given way to uninspiring surroundings.

Every 500 yards or so, I stopped and sat down. I knew that this couldn’t be a good idea, but my legs hurt at every step. For the first time I wasn’t sure I would finish the race; I wasn’t sure I wanted to keep on going. During the MDS, Thad had difficult moments, but I’d never considered the race to be cruel. This was how I viewed the Desert Cup on that Wednesday morning. I knew that I wasn’t going much faster than two mph, which caused a severe drop in my morale. I tried telling myself, “Wait until the next checkpoint to see how you feel.” But I couldn’t face taking four hours to get there.

At that moment I was passed by a whistling Italian doctor, and I joined him. It was a struggle to maintain his pace, but realized I could doit, and as we spoke of desultory subjects, the miles slipped away, and at 11:00 that morning, we finally reached the end of this interminable winding road.

Exhaustion had nearly put me into a trance. I collapsed at checkpoint 10, and for two hours I could not get myself up and moving. Slowly, however, the feeling of despair and disillusion ebbed. Officially, I still had over 40 hours to finish and only 30 miles to cover. There were no doubts in my mind now that I could and would finish; I only wondered what mental and physical state I would be in.

I was joined by Thierry Milliere, a Frenchman whose path I had crossed at various times during the race. As with most other participants at this point in the race, we had no desire to keep running or walking alone. He finally got me motivated to head out and face the longest stretch of the uphill climb to 5,000 feet, which Sala had warned me about.

Thierry pretty much talked me through to the end of the race. Even if I couldn’t always focus on what he was saying, his words kept my mind busy. As an experienced mountaineer—he has summitted the highest peaks on five of the seven continents—he was enjoying this “uphill stroll,” and his good spirits lifted mine.

—~_ 36″ LAS VEGAS AA MARATHON

Ct ee

Intemational “Friendship” 5k on Saturday from in front of Venetian Hotel OPEN 24 HOURS *Cool and Dry Running Weather “Fun Capital” of the World *Sunday Evening Post Race Party in Tropicana’s Grand Ballroom * Saturday Pasta Party in Tropicana Hotel Ballroom; Site of Pre-race Expo 2002 Runners from 50 States and 35+ Countries . . * More than 9,000 participants expected Register Online or *Fast and Flat Courses Download Entry Form from Peps Person Gm Teams in Full Marathon

Web Page or Write To: Las Vegas Marathon ven PO, Box 81262 Se wm Gm VENETI

Las Vegas, NV 89180 tne city oF ENTERTAINMENT. — tas VEGAS Resr-Hotel-Casno~Las egos

Rae alee :/www.lvmarathon.com

lvmarathon@aol.com

As we reached checkpoint 11 at the peak of the climb, the sun was setting over the Wadi Araba, which extends into Israel, and for several hours an amazing blood-like haze settled over the distant mountains, as if grenadine syrup had been spilled on the horizon and mixed with the inky blackness of night.

STILL AT HIGH RPMs

I hadn’t slept in 36 hours, but my body was so revved up that I couldn’t even contemplate sleep. I just had to keep moving, despite the appearance of tendonitis in my right ankle that made my foot feel detached from my leg.

Thierry and I followed a gravel path lined with large boulders, through rolling hills spotted with villages and disparate lights. My tired mind played tricks on me—instead of boulders, I saw a large group of people reaching out like zombies over the gravel path. I even imagined a cable car stretching across the valley. Thierry poked fun at me until he mistook our hobbling shadows for two massive scorpions.

We soon had to put on sweaters and windbreakers, as the wind gusted up to 40 mph. I almost welcomed the cold, however, as it kept my mind off the pain in my legs and the tendonitis. At the last checkpoint, six miles before the finish, I collapsed in a Land Rover for a rest I couldn’t put off. The wind had blown away the tent a few hours earlier. Six miles was still six miles, and I needed the mental relief. Thierry pushed on.

I downed a painkiller for the last leg and jogged to make the miles pass faster. I felt manic. I slowed down as I reached the beginning of the 570 candlelit steps that lead down into the mystical ancient city of Petra. As I reached the last steps and made my way past the Treasury Temple (the setting for the final scene of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade), all the bad memories of the race lifted. I shuffled alone through Petra, feeling like the last person on earth. These moments were the highlight of the race for me and an experience I’ll never forget.

I crossed the finish line in just under 42 hours, placing 65th out of 176 competitors. More than 40 had dropped out. My timing and rank, however, were just icing on the cake. They might mean more to me later, but just then I felt ecstatic at finishing, at overcoming what now seemed like a trek through heaven and hell. Unlike the Marathon des Sables, I had no immediate thought of returning the following year, but I knew this would not be my last ultramarathon.

melts Sia

MARATHON DES DEUX RIVES Lévis/Québec

Marathon – Half-Marathon – 10K Race – Team Challenge Chip Timing – Expo – Pasta Dinner

A scenic course along the majestic St. Lawrence River in a ae

renowned for its world heritage treasures and European touc

August 25, 2002 ~ kueust 24, 2008

sports aaa experts newbalance =

Bureau de la ale Nationale

Run New Orleans FEBRUARY 17, 2002

; Nokia Sugar Bowl Mardi Gras Marathon

MARATHON – RELAY“ HALF MARATHON + 5k

(504) 454-8687

www.mardigrasmarathon.com

Time to Run

Way Too Many People Cite Lack of Time As a Reason for Not Running Marathons.

Te HISTORIC theologian and reformer Martin Luther once observed that he could not possibly accomplish all his many tasks without at least four hours of prayer each day.

Similarly, many busy runners are almost religious about their workouts. They realize they could not possibly lift their heavy workloads and handle all their responsibilities without running.

“How can that be?” almost all nonrunners and many would-be runners ask. “Doesn’t running take too much time for busy people to do it?”

Following are ideas on how busy people can find that (1) running does not have to take time but can actually make time and (2) they can use their running time efficiently.

RUNNING CAN GIVE YOU TIME

Running can actually make time for you, giving you extra productive time. Do I sound like I’ve gone beyond my aerobic threshold? Probably. But consider the following example from my own experience.

In the fall of 2000, I worked full-time on Al Gore’s presidential campaign. And I do mean full-time. One hundred hour weeks were the norm for many of us, and anything less was the exception. For example, in one two-week stretch, a colleague and I both went to and spoke at meetings in 95 counties. Sundays were kept Sabbath for church and family, but the other six days a week we were “From can until can’t.”

Quite simply, I could not have done it were I not a runner and had I not kept running. To be sure, I missed running many days, and the runs I did get often were shorter than usual. But I could not have worked the hours or been as

efficient without the mileage base I had going into the campaign and without the energy that came from continuing to run some during the campaign.

Running gave me endurance and helped me squeeze more hours worth of work out of each day.

RUNNING MAKES US MORE PRODUCTIVE

For several years I worked on one book manuscript and gathered material for another. But neither saw publication. Finally, a publisher contracted for my first book. Then I decided to train for my first marathon during the same months I had to complete the revisions and new chapters. My wife thought I had lost my mind.

Despite the doubts of both my bride and my editor, the marathon training helped enormously as I struggled to write and rewrite. It was no coincidence that I finished the book at the same time as I completed my marathon training.

My most productive writing has come during the time of my most productive running. Elizabeth Arnold, correspondent for National Public Radio, was quoted in Runner’s World as saying, “Running is like the pause before writing. Without it, the words don’t flow.” She is absolutely right.

Mind you, my editor occasionally scolded me for marathon training when she wanted me to complete chapters. But it was the combination of writing and running that worked most effectively for me.

This is true not just for writers.

I am an attorney and recently I wrestled with a lawsuit others and I are bringing on behalf of a client who has been terribly wronged. Something about the suit concerned me, but I could not figure out what it was. Then, near the end of a 22-mile run, the answer dawned on me. I realized what we needed to do before we filed the lawsuit. The answer just floated into my consciousness, perhaps as I was close to losing consciousness! But there it was. I returned to my office after the run and told my law partner what we needed to research before filing suit.

Creativity experts teach that creative moments often come after intense concentration and effort but only when ceasing that effort and relaxing by doing something else. That something else that is most productive for many of us is running.

THE HEALTHIER WE ARE, THE LESS TIME WE WASTE BEING SICK

It is not terribly profound, but it is something worth figuring into our costbenefit analysis: the healthier we are, the less time we waste being sick.

Sure, most runners have injuries. But runners generally are healthier and have fewer illnesses than nonrunners and fewer illnesses than if we did not run. If we listen to our bodies and take time off, cut back, or cross train when our bodies warn of impending injury, then we can become healthier still. Just a few avoided illnesses frees up more time than running requires.

RUNNING MAY TAKE HOURS, BUT IT GIVES YOU YEARS

The man I grew up calling Granddaddy loved to sail. Someone cross-stitched these words for him:

“God does not take from one’s allotted years the hours spent sailing.”

So it is with running. In fact, as distance runners know best, life is not a sprint. It is a marathon. One should train—and run—accordingly. The time taken to drink, refuel, or hit a pace not too fast, is time you get back by the finish line, along with much more.

Over the long haul, running a few hours a week can add many more hours, indeed years, to life.

Furthermore, the years you are allowed are much more productive when you’re healthfully conditioned.

RUNNING CAN TAKE LESS TIME

Philosophers and physicists can opine on the nature and essence of time. My simple goal is to share with you how we can runas time-effectively as possible. To that end, here are some simple but practical suggestions.

Run Regularly

I have spent many hours planning, replanning, arranging, and rearranging to run. It can take as much time and energy trying to schedule and reschedule runs as it does to do them. So, structure your days around a regular time when you can almost always run. And then stick to that time and arrangement. If something comes up or there is no way you can be regular, then plan for and arrange the next run while still running. That way, when you finish the run, the next one is already in place, and it takes no more of your time to schedule it.

I don’t remember whether it was Casey Stengel or Yogi Berra who once observed that it was not what trouble ballplayers got into at night that hurt their performance but rather the staying up all night looking for trouble. Similarly, the less time spent looking for or arranging running, the better.

Nashville’s Downtown YMCA “wake-up crew” runs together every weekday at 5:30 A.M. Most of this bunch is training for, recovering from, or planning their next marathon.

Just Do It

With respect to Nike (I’m a New Balance guy myself), they are correct: Just do it.

Many of us waste more time figuring out when and where and with whom we will run than actually running. We spend countless hours worrying about running, procrastinating, contemplating weather forecasts and windchills and heat indexes. So, “Just do it.” And while you are doing it, plan your next run.

Run Where You Are

At home, I regularly run a little over a mile to a friend’s house. This slow run loosens me soI stretch at his house. When we are through running, Irun home. This way I use the extra couple of miles to loosen up, cool down, and get a bit stronger.

Shower Once

As the father of three young sons, I do not argue against cleanliness, even if and especially because I do not see a lot of it. So, if you enjoy showers and have the time to bathe more than once a day, by all means, let it flow. But we can save time (and water) by running right before the daily shower, thus avoiding the necessity of a second shower later in the day.

Work on the Run

During the 2000 election, fellow campaign staffers and I would skip lunch or dinner to run. As we ran, we talked about the issues confronting us. Time and again we got new information from each other and moved the work forward— without having to have a separate meeting.

Stockholm Marathon

June 8, 2002

Named as the #1 destination marathon in the world by the Ultimate |] Guide to International Marathons. Stockholm has also been named |] the “best city in the world for running”. Run into the 1912 Olympic

Stadium. This event should be on the top of every marathoner’s list.

Don’t forget our other fine trips to: Antarctica * Berlin * Bermuda * Boston * Chicago * Paris * Athens * Dublin * Paris + Prague * Rome ¢ Stockholm ¢ Beijing * London * Venice * Medoc * & Others www. maretiontods com °¢ marathon Gshore! net

te: MAT

AMERICAN RUNNING

ASSOCIATION

Running doctors and health professionals! Run Boston or Marine Corps and earn CME and CEUs. Guest

numbers! Visit

www.americanrunning.org.

Roy Herron

| Ax MARATHON Towrs & TRAVEL IE Call Toll-Free

wy 261 Main Street, Boston, MA 02129 Fax 617-242-7686

800-444-4097 |

Do It Right… You’ll Do it For Life!

What do Bill Rodgers, Jeff Galloway, Priscilla Welch, and hundreds of thousands of runners have in common? They turn to The American Running Association for the FACTS to keep them running..-for the rest of their life!

No fads. No fallacies. Just the facts.

Similarly, I especially enjoy running with and learning from other attorneys. Often their insights help me better serve my clients—and we don’t have to make time for a conference call or meeting. In other words, meetings can take place on the run and add to the work day instead of taking from it.

Run With Friends

Most of us need time to talk and socialize. Running with friends can meet that need and thus free other time for work or family. My most frequent running companion says of me, “Roy’s feet are connected to his mouth. If he couldn’t talk, he couldn’t run.” He’s probably right.

I know if I could not listen and talk, I could not run nearly as much.

On the most hectic work days, my only social time may be running time. So, I take that time, and enjoy it. Run with your friends, or make friends with whom you can run.

Run With Family

My wife and I sometimes run together, different gaits and paces notwithstanding. (She would also fit into the “running with friends” category.) With three young sons, our runs give us time to talk, share information on the boys, and catch up with each other while we move along together.

Thus, running really takes no additional time. We just use the time while running instead of while in the den or kitchen. The conversations are more efficient, too, because we are not constantly interrupted by requests for parental assistance or attention.

When the children were smaller, I pushed them in a running stroller. The increased resistance built up my strength, and the kids generally enjoyed it or

: slept through it.

Recently, the twins accompanied me on a 17miler on their bikes. They rode about three times fartherthan they had ever gone

The author’s sons, (left to right) Benjamin (age 7), and twins Rick and John (age 11), do hill repeats. They have begun running 5Ks with their dad and mom.

& E g

at one time, and I got in a long run that otherwise would have gone undone. Despite the rainstorms that made it a bit interesting, when it was over they were impressed with what they had done—and so was I. It was a special run and ride that none of us will ever forget. We got extraordinary time together, and I got the run in without it taking extra time.

Run Alone—Regardless of Whether You Are Alone

Brother Roger of the Taizé Community in France wrote a book called Struggle and Contemplation. He pointed out that those of us who work hard and struggle need time for contemplation and solitude—perhaps more than others.

Running can provide that time alone for contemplation and prayer, for reflection and renewal.

When you realize that running can mean prayer or reflection, you gain extra motivation to run. Running then becomes not one more thing to do but perhaps the most important thing.

Also, you do not have to run alone to be alone. Often, particularly on long tuns, I isolate from the group or even from a single companion to reflect and pray. Sometimes I pull ahead, drop back, or simply move over from other runners. Other times, I just fall silent and let my mind drift away.

Inever will forget my first ultra, the Mountain Mist 50K outside Huntsville, Alabama. This flatlander from West Tennessee’s gentle slopes and flat fields had no idea what mountains and rock climbing I was getting into until I was already committed to doing the event with friends. Perhaps it was the altitude as well as the distance, but in the midst of dozens of other runners, scrambling over the rockiest course I have ever seen, I often found myself alone, contemplating the beauty and giving thanks. It was one of the most worshipful experiences I had known in quite some time.

Save the Talking for Running

Ilike to run, then visit afterward with friends. But if you clock not only runs but also the visits before and after, then you can see this visiting can take as long or longer than the run itself. It is wonderful if you have the time. But if you do not have that much time and something has to go, make sure it is the visiting before and after the run and not the run itself.

When I was in high school, I worked for my congressman and the United States House of Representatives. I would often eat in the cafeteria in the Longworth House Office Building where a server would call out to those of us in line, “Walk and talk. Walk and talk.” She kept us moving and steady progress was made.

Roy Herron TIME TO RUN ® 83

Runners should also “walk and talk”—or perhaps “run and fun.” The key isto keep moving. One gains little fitness “sitting and quitting” or “standing and planning.”

Run Instead of Eat

Instead of going out for a meal, what about going out for a run? Many of us could miss a meal. Burning calories, instead of piling them in and piling on fat, would help most of us. By substituting miles for meals, you can burn fat. Furthermore, we can return to work invigorated instead of sleepy and increase our productivity in the afternoon.

Wear the Right Shoes

The right shoes help you avoid injuries. To make your investment of time productive, the time needs to be invested running, not licking wounds. Have at least two pairs of good shoes so one pair can dry and you don’t have to waste time trying to dry the other pair. Also, when one pair gets some wear, go ahead and invest in a third pair to begin working it into your running cycle. This way you won’t have to go looking for shoes at an inconvenient time or place.

Relatedly, find shoes that work for you, and then stay with that brand and model. The less time you spend shopping for and switching shoes, the higher percentage of your running time you will actually spend running. When the company changes the model you wear, try the new model, or stockpile the ones you are used to wearing that are going out of stock.

Have Enough Clothes

I grew up hearing about the Great Depression when my grandparents almost lost their farm because they could not pay the taxes. And I read Augustine’s admonition that there are two ways to be rich, one being to have the world’s goods and the other to need few of them.

Still, I finally decided to buy enough running clothing so that I no longer have to waste time trying to find something clean.

Investing in extra shorts, socks, and singlets for summer and extra tights, gloves, and headbands for winter means I have what I need when and where I need it. And sooner or later I will use or lose them anyway.

HAPPINESS IS RUNNING STRONG

What difference does it make if you are not only healthy physically but also emotionally and spiritually? Our experiences reveal and scientific studies

confirm that runners are happier than the general public. Happier than the general public, you say? Yes. But most important, happier than we would be if we did not work out regularly.

I started running for my physical health. Today, I know running is just as important for my mental, emotional, and spiritual health. My wife can testify to the difference it makes when I do not run.

If we are happier and more productive, then we also tend to elevate others so that not only we but those around us can benefit, too. But even if running took more time and did not expand our time, should not our brief time on Earth be happier?

Quick Tips on Running Fast

Most articles about running fast focus on running at a faster pace. These tips, however, are on how to get your running in, whatever your pace, in less time.

4. Run regularly. It saves time (and energy) when you don’t have to try to decide and arrange when and where to run. Plan a regular schedule with regular starting points and companions you can count on being there.

2. Hard/easy. It’s best for your body, and also saves time, to alternate hard/ long runs with easy/short runs or cross training or even “active rest.”

3. Run, not ride. Run from where you are to where you want to be rather than driving more than you have to drive. The time you invest running instead of commuting will build you up instead of take time away.

4. Change quickly, Rather than changing and chatting, get ready and get running. Then you can talk on the run when it does not take more of your time.

5. Fun and run. If you can have fun while running, time will really fly by—and even if you run longer, itwon‘tseemas though you Pg have. e

Running on the Moon

Rick Schaefer Had It All and Lost It All—and Then Found More Than Ever.

By WOODY GREEN

6 ‘| N MY early 30s, I had just about everything anyone could ask for or

dream about,” Rick Schaefer relates. “I had the lavish lifestyle, a wildly successful business that I had built from $300 to $30 million in three years, a couple of wonderful children, and the list goes on and on. By the time I was 37, Thad lost everything. I had sustained a heart attack, I was bankrupt, hounded by the IRS, recovering from addictions to cocaine and alcohol, and out of touch with my children. I had just returned to Boulder at age 39 to start over… and then I realized the folks I was working with weren’t good people.

“My longtime girlfriend had had enough of my trials and relocated out west. My weight was back up to a dangerous level for a post—heart attack victim. I hadn’t made many new friends since I returned to Colorado. The magazine stress tests where points are totaled for life events showed me maxed off the charts. Try as I might, I couldn’t get back on my feet. I’m a fighter, but I just kept getting knocked down. It took every ounce of positive energy just to make it from day to day. It was hard to battle so many major forces on so many fronts that I couldn’t control, and I was as close to helpless as I’ve ever been.”

Looking at Rick now, you’d never guess his past problems. Watching him run easily, bantering with his running friends in the middle of a three-hour workout, it’s particularly difficult to believe that he suffered a heart attack 10 years ago at the age of 35. What’s weird is that the heart attack came at a time when Rick had begun to clean up his act.

Rick relates, “The first 33 years of my life could be characterized by bad genetics, drug use, alcohol abuse, high-stress work, elevated blood pressure, bad diet, a weight problem, and smoking.” Before the attack, Rick had lost 65 pounds by swimming 4,000 meters a day and eating a healthy diet. “I had stopped doing cocaine cold turkey two years before. My cholesterol was almost normal, and my blood pressure was way down. I had cut back but not quit drinking alcohol.”

Woody Green RUNNING ON THE MOON ® 87

After recovering from his heart attack, Rick began doing two-mile runs with employees of his high-tech firm before work. He worked his way up to six miles, but then he moved several times and found it difficult to keep running when his established routine was disrupted. He also couldn’t find a convenient place to swim.

WEIGHTY MATTERS

“On Thanksgiving Day one year later, after we had stuffed ourselves with every kind of food imaginable, I realized I had ballooned back up to 245 pounds. I was desperate to do something that would make me trim down. [had already dodged the Grim Reaper once, and I didn’t want him knocking on my door again.”

Armed with a new resolve, rather than a knife and fork, Rick managed to will himself out the door for a couple of runs a week. It wasn’t easy for him at the beginning, though. “It was lonely,” he recalls. “It was just me, myself, and I. [had no idea what I was doing. I was too embarrassed to try to find ‘real’ runners and ask for their advice. I thought they would laugh at me. But I would try to run regularly. I knew, out of desperation, that the only key to getting into shape was to run regularly.

“Without a doubt, the most important body part for a beginning runner resides between the ears. I still remember my fears as if it were yesterday. I didn’t think I looked like a runner. I sure didn’t think guys built like me were runners. It is particularly intimidating in Boulder, where everyone seems to have the body mass of a zipper, and my build was more like a Sherman tank. SoIcouldn’timagine myself as a runner. I spent the first five months of running in quiet and desperate isolation.”

An Internet group Rick stumbled upon called the Clydesdale Virtual Racing Team helped him to break his isolation and give him inspiration. He had considered trying to run in a race but was hesitant. “A slow woman in the Clydesdale Internet group did her first 5K race and wrote about it to everyone. She ran a 40-minute 5K, and she was surprised that she wasn’t dead last. Even more important was her enthusiasm. She was thrilled, and she wanted to do another race as soon as possible.”

Rick’s interest in the Clydesdale group led to his decision to sign up for his first race, the Bolder Boulder 10K. His cardiologist warned him about getting caught up in the excitement and overdoing it, and his girlfriend at that time didn’t like the idea of his running the race. He promised he would make the race a “fun run” and coasted through in 70 minutes. “That was 1995; it was about 55 degrees and raining, so I just kind of dorked around the course in 1:10. It was a blast!”

Guaranteed Prevention.

The Olympic Marathon brings the high drama and rich details of the past 24 Olympic marathon races to life in a way no other book ever has. Generously illustrated, often with rare and neverbefore-published photos, this book provides a detailed narrative of how the race was run, fascinating biographical details of the top finishers, the political climate surrounding the race, and a map with street descriptions of the actual race course.

Woody Green RUNNING ON THE MOON 89

After that, Rick entered several other local races, each time running faster and finding more enjoyment. In celebration of his achievements, he wrote an essay for the Clydesdale group called “From Drafthorse to Thoroughbred.” Little did he know that this piece of Internet verse would be the key to his meeting his current wife, Karen. “She sent me an ‘Ah shucks’ e-mail, and the rest is history.”

At this point, running and his running friends had become a big part of Rick’s life. Running was more than just a way to stay fit—it was part of his lifestyle. Accordingly, the natural next step for Rick was training for a marathon. He set his sights on the Long Beach Marathon.

DOCTOR KNOWS BEST

“This was when fate took a seemingly cruel turn,” Rick reveals. “I had decided to share my new-found love of running with my cardiologist. I wanted him to give me a medical blessing. So I scheduled an appointment for a full treadmill test. I hammered the treadmill, and the doc asked me a lot of questions about why I wanted to run a marathon. Did I know about hydration and how to avoid overexertion? I thought, ‘This is a slam dunk! I’m a heart rate monitor maven, and I’Il carry my own water.’ But the doc dropped a bomb. Red light and no blessing. He had concerns about the effects of accumulated fatigue. He said, ‘If anything ever happened to you, and another doctor saw your chart, they would have my head!’ The world caved in. I stumbled from his office, as disappointed as I have ever felt. I knew I could run the distance, and here it was being taken from me. My dream was shattered.”

Sometimes a setback can be a great motivator, though, and in this case all it took was finding a loophole in the doctor’s warnings. “Karen took me to watch a 50-kilometer [32-mile] ultrarace, and I discovered that people walk lots during ultras. Hey, guess what? My doctor told me he didn’t want me running continuously for four hours, but if I rested, he didn’t care if Iran eight hours in a day.”

The solution was simple. Rick figured he could do his marathon if he took walk breaks. Following a strangely bent sort of logic, he signed up for a very difficult, hilly trail marathon on Catalina Island. His reasoning? “Of course, I’d walk the uphills. Of course, I’d listen to my heart rate monitor. Heck, I’ll even set it low! See the doctor? Why? I’Il be doing what he told me was okay .. . kind of,” Rick laughs.

The Catalina race started a chain reaction. “That was my first,” he relates. “Once I had that under my belt, I thought I’d try running a road marathon slow. The key to all my long runs is heart rate. If it goes up, I slow the pace down, even if it means walking.”

The Clydesdale Internet group has remained a big motivator for Rick. He estimates he has run with members of that group in 25 different states. Another group that keeps him going is known as the “Satruns”: a group of Boulder runners who get up early every Saturday morning to put in a long run in preparation for their next long run. The camaraderie of this group extends beyond running, and they are a close social group, much like an extended family. A member of the Satruns had been » . experiencing chronic injury prob- | lems, but despite the advice of all in the group, he was not seeking professional help. To help, Rick decided to stage an “intervention”—a term he knew well from the “bad old days.” He set up (and paid for) his friend’s appointments with a physical therapist and massage therapist. Everyone in the group insisted firmly, but lovingly, that their injured mate take advantage of these appointments, and he naturally accepted.

Rick’s association with his running groups has helped him succeed in the marathon beyond his wildest dreams. He has now run in the Chicago, Twin Cities, Big Sur, Boston, New York, Marine Corps, and Boulder Backroads marathons, along with Rick celebrates completing the 2000 Bostwo return trips to Catalina. ton Marathon.

MAKING TIME TO RUN

Rebuilding his business career, Rick is now vice president of a successful computer-related business firm. He has homes in Colorado and California and travels a great deal for his company. His time is precious. When asked how he has time to run, he laughs and says, “I don’t have time to run. I do it anyway!

“T fly between 75,000 and 100,000 miles a year, and the only way to run is to schedule runs into my Daytimer in advance. I have changed many appointments around to accommodate my daily run. I run in all sorts of weather, and when necessary, I run in airports, sometimes in the wee hours of the morning.”

In five years of training, Rick has missed only 7 days of running and once had a streak of 1,178 consecutive days without a miss. The streak came to an end when he and his Boulder running buddies decided to take a short cut on a Sunday run. Everyone was especially tired that day, so they jumped a fence to cut the distance. Rick came down hard on his foot, and the streak and his foot snapped at the same time.

“Running daily is a commitment,” Rick advises, “and it doesn’t happen all by itself. Sometimes, I’ ve started the run only for a streak’s sake, but I’ve rarely been let down by arun. Usually, it turns out to be the best ‘play time’ of the day for me.”

Is Rick’s running really “play,” or is it a new addiction to replace the selfdestructive addictions of his past? When pressed on this question by his running friends, Rick can only laugh about his compulsive personality. “I’ll take this addiction over my old ones any time!”

Right after his first Catalina Marathon, Rick summed up his total change in lifestyle and outlook on life. “Ten years ago, if you asked me if it was more likely that I would run a marathon or walk on the moon, I would have said ’’d walk on the moon.” Remembering those comments, he now adds, “I realized how farfetched it was for me to even consider I’d ever run a marathon. I was a football player, a jock, a moose. Guys like me huffed and puffed our way through our 600-yard time trial at the beginning of each season.”

But a sober, healthy, and fit Rick Schaefer is living proof that dreams as wild as walking on the moon can come true.

“When I started running, I couldn’t control what I was going to do for work,” Rick reflects. “Icouldn’t control the next shot the IRS was going to take. I couldn’t control my girlfriend’s actions. Icouldn’t control lots of things. The one thing I could take total con- Rick with his wife Karen, whom he met through trol of was dragging my fat the Clydesdale group. body out of bed and running over to Waneka Lake. So, if you ask me what running has given me, I would truly have to answer everything!” Bs

VECTRABANK COLORADO’S PREMIER RUNNING EVENT

COLORADO

“Best Kept Marathon Secret” —_ Race info: Boulder Backroads Marathon

RUNNER’S 303.939.9661 Boulder, CO 80306 WORD or register on-line at (activecon

Why Do We

Run Marathons, | Anyway?

We Frequently Discuss How Well or How Poorly

We Ran One, But We Seldom Ask Ourselves Why We Run Them in the First Place.

BY GARY FRANCHI

F ROM WHAT I’ve seen so far, it’s a pretty strange world. Some people repeatedly drink ’til they puke. A few actually believe what politicians have to say. Hundreds of thousands read the National Enquirer. Then there are those in my state of Colorado who still have Denver Nuggets season tickets— and they aren’t corporate ticket holders, either.

Yes, people can be darn weird. But if you think about it, maybe the strangest people ofall are those of us who run marathons. Are you thinking about it? Well, let me help: First off, we get hornswoggled into running our initial marathon because our training buddy, whom we’ ve always known to be alittle off center, wants to try one and convinces us that all runners should run at least one.

We attempt the first marathon with the hope of “just finishing.” Then we run a second one so we can shoot for a better time. Then we want to take our first trip to Seattle and… well, whatta ya know, they just happen to have a marathon there at a convenient time of the year: Thanksgiving. Then we want to qualify for Boston because it’s “the big one.” So we run Vegas because we’ ve heard it’s a fast course that might help us qualify for that trip to Beantown. Then we start thinking about running a marathon in all 50 states. And so on and so forth. The pain means nothing and is usually quickly forgotten—like as soon as the soreness wears off. Out of pain, out of mind.

WHY DO WE DO IT?

It’s funny—if you’ ve ever fallen into a cactus, you sure are going to be careful not to let that happen again. If you’ ve ever been bitten by a dog, you become wary of petting strange dogs. If you play a sport on skates where you lose teeth

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

and routinely get hip-checked face first into the boards . . . well, okay, I guess the money’s pretty good, so there are some exceptions to the pain rule.

But unlike having to go to the dentist, we don’t have to keep running marathons. We could easily, and rationally, stick with shorter distances that don’t require such sacrifice, commitment, and, yes, pain. So why do we?

I ask this question because the following conversation really occurred, although I’m not sure if it was in real life. It might have been in a dream. Or maybe I heard it when I was alone typing this. Whatever the case, this was the conversation:

Susie: “Hey, Jim, why do you run marathons, anyway?”

Jim: “I don’t know, Susie. I think because they’ re there.”

Susie: “What’s there?”

Jim: “The roads. If they build them, I will run.”

There’s Reason #1 why we run marathons: Because there are roads. The suckers are everywhere. It follows—logically, I’m sure—that if there are lots of roads and we arerunners, then we have to pack on the miles just to try to cover all the roads in our respective towns. It’s probably a territorial thing. If we live in a big metropolitan area, this can get just a tad difficult and require running tons of miles. And since we’ re running tons of miles anyway, why not just train for and run marathons? Especially if we have a training partner who thinks it would be a good idea.

Reason #2: Our training partners are persuasive. Here’s a typical scenario:

John (during a 10-mile training run with Fred): “What would you think about running St. George? I hear it’s downhill all the way and a PR is virtually guaranteed.”

Fred: “Where’s St. George?”

John: “I think it’s real close to Big Sur, and you know how gorgeous that course looks in the magazine ads.”

Fred: “Cool! Let’s do it.”

Who could resist the chance to run a marathon along the ocean coast in St. George, Utah?

Reason #3: We get to buy new running shoes. It stands to reason that when we’ rerunning tons of miles, we quickly wear out our running shoes. This means we get to experience possibly the greatest, yet little-mentioned, pleasure of being a runner—buying new running shoes. Does anything compare with the pleasure we get from seeing, feeling, and smelling a new pair of running shoes? Okay, so maybe there are one or two things. But a new pair of running shoes has substance. New shoes motivate and inspire us, while evoking a flood of treasured memories from our innocent childhood years. Go ahead and try it— take a big whiff of a brand-new shoe and see what memories come. Why, it’s almost enough to make you run on concrete to wear your shoes out faster.

Gary Franchi WHY DO WE RUN MARATHONS, ANYWAY? B95

Reason #4: You get to see the world. Running marathons all over the country or world can be a real kick. You get to enjoy new experiences and take in a kaleidoscope of visually dynamic sights. Run the prairie, the woods, the beach, the desert—each experience takes you toa place you’ ve never been. And it sure doesn’t hurt that all the travel gets you away from work and helps you forget the chores piling up at home.

Reason #5: You get to wear those cool T-shirts. Yeah, the travel’s great, but what’s coolest is all those marathon T-shirts you stockpile. Not only are these shirts not-so-subtle ads for your achievements, but some of the designs are just plain pretty. Remember Amy Parker’s shirt after she’d run the Grandma’s Marathon? What a conversation piece. Hey, so what if she did wear the shirt for 15 straight days? Is there any such thing as too much cool?

Reason #6: It gives you time alone to think. By nature, we runners are inward-leaning people, often uncomfortable in social situations. Perhaps that’s why we appreciate the solitude of our long training runs. It gives us the opportunity for introspection, to contemplate life and mankind’s evolutionary processes. We burn off our hostilities, escape all the bozos, and get a chance to think clearly in a period of calm without the daily interruptions of the workaday world. For many people, this has got to be the best reason for running.

Reason #7: Completing a marathon gives life new meaning. The achievement is a badge of courage, a seal of accomplishment that draws us out of our shells. Besides making us healthier (we hope), improving our self-esteem, and giving us direction, running a marathon also helps make us more comfortable in social settings. Which brings us to. . .

Reason #8: Marathons give us something to talk about. Alas, most of our socializing continues to be with fellow runners who share our passion—but, then, would we really want it any other way? Our marathon war stories fall pretty flat among a gathering of nonrunners who think Nikes are the only brand of sneakers.

Nonrunner at a party back home: “What do you mean you got bused out 26 miles from the Las Vegas Strip at five in the morning in pitch dark? Are you nuts?”

Runner: “Hey, I ran my marathon PR there.”

Nonrunner: “T didn’t know you were into public relations.”

Runner: “Um, I’ll see ya…”

So, are these eight reasons enough? Do we really need any more motivation to travel the country year after year to run marathons, experience pain, and bring home another cool T-shirt along with those nice finisher medals? Must we have more incentive to carry us through those training periods that include three-hour Sunday-morning jaunts in the middle of summer and mile repeats during the week?