In the beginning (where have I heard that phrase before…), just running for any length of time may be a challenge (see Slow and Steady if you’re still at that stage). Sooner or later though, if you’re lucky and persistent enough to keep with it, you’ll probably find yourself setting a distance goal.  It may be to run for a mile without stopping, it may be to run your first 5K (five thousand meters; just over 3 miles) – or your first marathon.  Whatever the distance, one way to stay motivated and on target is to divide the distance into fractions.  Not only does this give you attainable short term goals (“if I can only make it half way…”) it also provides psychic rewards (“Yes! I’m one quarter of the way there”).  On top of that, doing the math in your head can be a useful distraction (trying to figure out 66.6% of 21.6 in my head pushes the blister on my toe out of mind every time).

Example: a recent ‘long run’ was an out and back from home, and since I’d had a couple of disappointing runs recently, I was not feeling confident I could do the distance without bonking badly. Picturing the distance as a succession of milestones really helped it feel more do-able.  About a third of the way out, there’s a right angle turn from road onto a bike path; I made a point not to check my time until I got there, and could say I was a third of the way to the halfway mark, enough to feel like real progress.  Halfway from there to the turn-around is the high school, where I could congratulate myself again, for being more than halfway to the turn-around.  Thinking of it as ‘two thirds of the way out’  – instead of one third of the total distance – created the impression of nearing the completion of a hard piece of work, sufficient incentive to up my level of effort just a bit.  Then the turn-around of an out-and-back is always great, because you tell yourself you’ve come that far, and it’s no farther going back and every step means less mileage to go ahead than is already behind (plus in this case the outward leg runs up-river, so the return leg is literally ‘downhill all the way’).

Same thing works on the way back: “I’ve made it a third of the way back, which is two thirds of the total, heck I’m more than half way there.” Two thirds of the way back means you’ve already done the remaining distance five times over, heck you’re practically there already…”

These are just mind games of course, but so are a lot of the negative thoughts that may crop up unbidden, like “who am I kidding,” or “this isn’t supposed to be this hard,” or “look at how fast that gal passed me…” Creating your own positive mind games can have real benefits, freeing your body to show what it can do and making the workout rewarding instead of an obligation.

Whatever distance you choose to run, my recommendation is to visualize it divided into fractions, describe them in the most positive way possible and congratulate yourself for each fraction you finish – then any distance will seem easier to conquer.

Living at 6400 feet above salt water, I used to think of winter as ski season and hang up my running shoes until at least the end of March, when I’d start desperately seeking the fitness I’d lost since fall. A few years ago though, the commitment of an April event led me to train all winter long and I found…it wasn’t nearly the problem I’d anticipated!  Herewith; a few suggestions on how to make winter training in harsh climates more tolerable.

First off, is to cross-train. If two or three of your weekly workouts are on a treadmill, stationary bike, elliptical or stepper, that’s fewer days a week to run outside. Start there, and maybe sometimes shift those around to days with the most conducive weather, you greatly reduce the number of days you need to run in mother nature’s worst.

When the time does come to run outside, be prepared by having already checked out which routes are going to be most runnable.  Look for pavement that get lots of southern sunlight to burn it to slush or dampness, even if not scraped clean by Mr. Snowplow – a good candidate is park paths that are maintained by staff.  If totally-clear pavement is not available, look at least for some that’s packed down, or has a solid base underneath the light stuff.  Up to about four inches of fresh snow can be good running with Yak tracks or other traction devices – if it’s got hard pavement or packed snow underneath.  Much more than four inches of soft snow is pretty demoralizing to run in, and I’d try to re-schedule. If there are maintained cross-country trails in your area, their margins may be useable, but make sure you’re not messing up the grooved ski tracks, or creating potholes in a width designed for skate-skiers.

Regardless of the route, when the weather is cold ya’ gotta layer-up, to be comfortable at the stat, not too hot once warmed-up, and safe in case you need to stop. A common guide is to dress (the layers you’re not going to strip-off) as if the air is going to be 20 degrees warmer than the thermometer shows, to allow for the heat of exertion,.

Running feet generate their own heat, so I find a pair of light wool socks inside Gore-tex oversocks are enough even in very cold air and snow. Running legs tend to warm themselves too, and even evaporate what little snow falls on them, so one layer of tights works down to maybe twenty degrees.  If it’s colder, a second pair of tights might be in order, or nylon wind pants, saving anything heavy like warmups until the very coldest times.  At any weight, avoid cotton; heavy, saggy sweatpants impede movement and accumulate moisture, holding the cold against your skin.

Hands are the opposite of feet, blood flow goes elsewhere, so they are in real danger of getting uncomfortably (even dangerously) cold. Below 32 f, I wear insulated ski mittens, over light gloves.  Not that cold, maybe ski gloves rather than mittens, but always a over a lighter pair, that give some protection even when (not if) I need to pull off the outer layer to adjust something.  For the most extreme, use or carry those little packet handwarmers; toasty fingers can make the difference between a tortured slog and a cheerful adventure.

Above the waist, choose multiple light wicking layers that can be peeled off one at a time to avoid getting wet from the inside. The fine-temperature-adjustment possible with zip-neck layers is much preferable to turtle-necks, and pit-zips are a real plus for the same reason. I find a breathable rain jacket with open pit-zips is the best surface layer when it’s snowing but not terribly cold, and only when the air gets down around 10 degrees do I consider wearing an insulated jacket – synthetic, not down, and again with pit-zips – always making sure to have a plan to stash it when things get too warm.  (Most ski and boarding gear is actually designed for short bursts of activity interspersed with sedentary periods on chairlifts, in trams or waiting for your friends to pick themselves up off the snow, so it’s not well suited to the constant-heat generation and limber motions of running.  Apply sparingly.)

Knitted hats are good for keeping the ears warm, but can be too hot on the head, and a billed-cap is essential whenever precipitation is expected, to keep the flakes off eyes or glasses. On balance, a Buff or other lightweight scarf-type covering, paired with a visor may be a good choice – lightweight and flexible.  Sunglasses are a must to protect from glaring white snow, and if the white stuff is coming down hard enough to coa them with droplets, goggles are worth trying (by then you’re not likely to meet anyone you know out there, so who cares how dorky you look?).

Night falls early in winter, so if there’s the slightest chance you’ll be out after dark, headlamp, flashlight and reflective clothing are in order as well. In the unlikely event you have to bail from a run, waiting for a ride in good weather is mostly just a drag – but in winter it can become life-threatening, so I recommend bringing your cell as well, and maybe an extra warm hat or pair of gloves.  Between emergency items like those, plus water and goo and the need to stash what layers come off, a lightweight backpack is essential for long winter runs, especially solos.

Beyond comfort and safety comes the challenge of setting realistic goals. Uncertain surfaces and all that gear slow the stride, and periodic stops to add, remove or adjust gear are another reason cold weather running tends to be slow, so plan winter workouts by duration and effort, not distance or pace.  These runs are best suited to maintaining an endurance base – the ability to sustain a moderate level of exertion for periods over an hour (or several, depending on your level).  Look to treadmill workouts to maintain foot speed and max VO2.

If it’s truly too bad outside to run, give in and substitute an indoor workout. My go-to at the local rec. center is alternating half-hour segments on the treadmill and exercise bike for a long high-effort workout with a Special Bonus Feature – it only takes one of those sessions to make me really look forward to my next outdoor run, regardless of weather!

Developing confidence and self-sufficiency is one of the keys to success at distance running – and simultaneously one of its greatest payoffs – and there’s nothing better for the self-image than comfortably completing a long run in conditions that send most of the populace scurrying for the couch and remote.

There are also many truly beautiful experiences to be had on winter routes emptied of walkers, bikes, dogs and cars; where the loudest sound is your own breathing, or footfalls muffled by powder or crunching into yesterday’s crust. Winter light does wonderful things to familiar vistas, as do ice crystals, vaporous breath and swirling gusts of an atmosphere rendered visible by frozen moisture.

Be prepared, be flexible, and think of cold-weather running as an adventure – a chance to access experiences and sensations from which our modern lifestyle often insulates us. It’s rarely boring, and – if nothing else – may make you appreciate next summer’s heat in a whole new way!

Usually this blog is about general observations of the MPR universe, but yesterday I demonstrated something to myself so clearly, I’ve just gotta share it.

I’d been having a good running season, building up for the Salomon Golden Leaf trail hemithon in late September, a favorite event that I’d done seven times before, with gradually improving times. I managed a PR by a few seconds on the last scheduled event beforehand, then had planned six weeks to recover and taper for the GL.

Just about a perfect set up, except that somewhere in between there the local paper mentioned a nearby event I’d heard of but never run, just two weeks before the GL. Another trail run, 25k this time, with an even bigger climb in the early miles than the GL, and reputed to be the most beautiful autumn course around these decidedly beautiful parts  Telling myself it would be a perfect last long run before tapering to the GL, I signed up and headed off for the Lead King Loop.  Baaad ideaaa….

Mistake number one: I have learned over the years that for this MPR and this not-getting any-younger body, it takes three weeks recovery after a big effort to be ready for another biggie. If I make big efforts every two weeks, I end up hitting walls. But I’d been running longer than the LKL all summer so that shouldn’t be an issue; or so I told my nagging left brain.

Mistake number two: If you’re gonna shortchange recovery time, at least do it in a small way, maybe a quick short distance that exercises the muscles and reflexes but doesn’t tap out all your reserves. (Problem: the LKL is longer and has more climb than the GL – which is not the intended meaning of the term ‘reverse-taper.’)

Mistake number three: since I more or less knew those things already, I signed up for the LKL telling myself I was just there for the scenery, and that a slow time would actually be best so I could come back next year and beat it. Then in the first half mile I overheard a couple of folks in my division talking about who was gonna do what to whom, which tweaked my competitive radar, with the result I pushed all the way and ended the morning totally sapped.

Mistake number four: so here I am with a tired body and two weeks to the GL – every bit of advice I’ve ever heard says taper and recover, which for me at my age would mean nothing but short, moderate runs. Which I managed – for six days. Then, on the Saturday in between I decided I needed a little uphill to keep my edge on, so I ran a quick five miles, and because the summer had been going so well, I pushed that training loop faster than ever before.  And then the week before the GL was so busy I couldn’t get out for a mid-day stress-relief quickie, and by Thursday was wondering if I might have completely forgotten how to run, so I squeezed in a gentle evening three-miler only to be shocked me by how tired and slow it felt.  Well duh.

You can guess the rest. GL Saturday dawned sunny and perfect – neither cold nor hot, the trail dry and fast, but even as I ran a few yards to warm up before the start, I could tell what was coming – legs heavy and unresponsive, as if someone had inserted an extra mile of leaky-coax cable between brain and muscles. Still, I’d been having a good summer right, all those other events had gone well, so I must be fit enough to do this, right? Heck. I’d run a tougher 25K just two weeks ago…

Predictably, I hit the wall early, struggled to keep myself motivated enough to even finish, and did so with a time that would have been disappointing five years ago, and was much more so this summer.

Please don’t get me wrong here – Any day I can run is a blessing, for which I am truly grateful. And this year’s GL was pretty fantastic: a beautiful and challenging course, gorgeous weather and fall colors, wonderful people to run with and meet.

 But it could have been even better if I’d stayed with the plan and not gotten greedy.

Recovery is training too, and every bit as important as wind sprints or that ‘75% of the goal distance’ long run two three weeks before a big event.

I may have learned that now.

One of the most common responses when folks hear you’ve run an event, is “wow, I couldn’t run a mile! (or a 5K, or a 10k, or whatever distance is on the table…).”

Now part of that is certainly just being polite and supportive (to which I say “Thank you supportive non-runners, every one”), but many times I get the feeling folks would really like to feel differently about themselves, and based on my own experience, I think a lot of reasonably healthy people would be surprised at how they could run – if they’d just slow down.  Here’s what I would say to one of those folks:

Running is not defined by how fast you go (despite the snooty comments you may read or hear, to the effect that anything slower than such-and-such a pace is just ‘jogging’ – a word which qualifies as slander among runners).  The truth is, any time you transport yourself by picking one foot off the ground before the other one touches down, you are running. It’s that simple.

The mistake I’ve seen ‘I’m-not-a-runner’ folks make is trying to go too fast, too soon.  They blast off like Usain Bolt for a few yards, then the lungs begin to heave, the heart to pound, the legs to burn and next thing you know, a runner is a walker, or maybe even a curb-sitter.

This MPR’s advice to anyone who wants to try running – or has taken a stab and feels defeated – is first to warm up by moderate walking.  Only after five minute of that has gotten your body into gear should you start running, and when you do, focus on running as slow as you can.  Really.  Instead of the way you think it should be done – the way you feel you cannot do – shorten your strides so one foot is landing barely in front of the other, and slow them down till one foot just barely comes up before the other touches down.  The object is to cover the least bit of ground you can with each stride, while still lifting one foot before the other hits.  See how long you can keep that up, then walk a while to cool down, and get some good rest.

A day or two later, try it again, and see if you can keep it up for 5% or 10% longer.  Only when you can keep up that barely-running pace for a moderate work out – something over twenty minutes – should you start thinking about going faster.   When you do, the goal is to speed up only as much as you can sustain for the length of workout you’re ready to do ( twenty to twenty-five minutes is what I’ve seen described as the providing the basic aerobic and health benefits, longer than that is really about attaining some other specific goal).

I know that some authorities recommend run-walking – run a set period of time (could be a number of minutes, could be seconds) then walk a set period (again, minutes or seconds), repeat for the length of your workout, or event.  I’ve never done that so have no recommendation one way or the other, except to listen to your own body, and do what feels helpful to it.  My guess is even if you’re a run/walk person, you’ll be able to make your run intervals longer and your walk intervals shorter – and maybe get to continuous running sooner, if that’ s your goal – by making the effort to slow it down.

It all boils down to this: go as slow as you need to, in order to maintain a running stride, and you may well be surprised by what you can achieve.  Like the old fable of the tortoise and the hare, slow and steady is the key to finding out whether you too may have a runner hidden inside!

To cross-train or not to cross-train; that is the question many runners ask themselves, judging by letters and columns I read in magazines.  For this MPR, there are several good reasons to embrace the concept:

• Cross-training can help maintain high motivation for your runs.
  • Few of us are blessed with an endless supply of new routes, new goals, new strategies to keep every mile of every run engaging. When interest flags, so does motivation, leading to mediocre efforts, or even missed runs. Employing cross-training for some of your exercise days can keep your running workouts fresh and exciting. A long stationary bike workout often leaves me more hungry to get outside and run, where I get to create my own breeze and move thru a constantly-changing environment.
• Cross-training can exercise muscles or reflexes that aren’t emphasized in basic running, but that will still improve your running.
  • Swimming is great to build core–body strength (which becomes more and more important the longer your runs are) and also upper body (which is essential for uphill running, but doesn’t get built on the flats). For me, skiing steep terrain and moguls in the winter builds quickness of foot – which translates into higher running cadence – and also dynamic balance – which is absolutely critical for fast, technical trail running (especially bombing down-hill!).
• Cross-training in a less–intensive form of exercise may be a step in transitioning to a runner’s lifestyle.
  • It can be pretty intimidating for a beginning runner to hear about people who run every day, tallying thirty-, forty-, fifty- or more-mile weeks. Starting out by running once a week, and walking three times, can be a lot more approachable. Over time that balance can shift to two runs and two walks, then three (or four) and two, as running comes to feel more natural and satisfying.
• Cross-training can fit in where running doesn’t.
  • Like that quick overnight stay in an airport hotel, where running around the parking lot and access roads may not be appealing enough to get you out of bed on six hours of sleep, but half an hour of bike or elliptical in the exercise room may be just the thing to clear out cobwebs and stimulate muscles so they do not regress.
  • Here in Colorado, where winter days are awfully cold and dark at both ends (and fall and spring mornings contain roaming bears!); getting on a stationary bike at 6 AM is a lot more reliable than trying to carve out an hour in the middle of a busy work day.
• Cross-training allows you to build/maintain cardio-vascular and muscular capacity with less risk of running-related injury.
  • Almost by definition, most running related injuries come from some specific physical strain inherent in the particular actions of running, so exercising in almost any other form is less-likely to cause or worsen them. CT may actually provide a rest and healing opportunity that helps you recover from the injury. Swimming is often cited for this, as are yoga and the seemingly infinite variety of health club workout programs. For me, it can be as simple as a half-hour of stretching and calisthenics on the bedroom floor, that leaves everything feeling limber and refreshed while allowing that hamstring that made itself known during Saturday’s big run to fall back into blessed silence.)

Like nearly everything about running, cross-training is an individual choice, but to me it seems a no-brainer.  CT has the potential to increase most any MPR’s enjoyment and success at running, so I say, go for it!

I was talking with a young lady recently who had a strange running problem – after a few miles her right foot would start to go numb – always her right foot and never her left.  She’d tried lots of different shoes, socks, and other ideas, but nothing helped, and it was severely limiting her running. Pondering her dilemma reminded me that even though running may seem like a totally symmetrical phenomenon (it’s pretty hard to get away from left, right, left, right, left….) the reality can be more complex.

Some years ago I was plagued with a wonky left knee.  Every time I ran it got sore and sometimes swollen – not enough to keep me from running, but enough to hold down my enjoyment and therefore my mileage and progress. Since I’m flat-footed, I tried arch-supports and they helped somewhat, but it wasn’t until I ran with the arch support in my left shoe only that the problem seemed to lessen. (Eventually, after a couple of years running and cross-training, I got to where I don’t seem to need that support any more, but it took a one-sided solution to get me there.)

Anatomists tell us that human bodies are never perfectly symmetrical; many people have one leg slightly longer than the other, bones more or less curved, or one knee may angle differently. Lots of us have bunions, callouses or other features that differ between our two feet – some even fit a different size or width from side to side!

Perfect symmetry is just as hard to find outside the body too:  if you happen to run on roads, you may have noticed the pavement is usually ‘crowned,’ higher in the center of the road, so water drains to the shoulder.  That means if you run against traffic, your right foot is treading a slightly higher surface than your left. It’s not much of a difference, but miles of running means tens of thousands of steps, each one of which puts slightly different loads and stresses on the two sides of your body, maybe even translating up into how you hold your torso or head.  Pound your body asymmetrically like that for hour after hour and day after day and you may well generate a chronic pain that seems to come from nowhere.

Run on a track instead, and you may be curving to one side a lot more than the other, which could cause its own issues.  An Indy race car’s chassis is specifically designed for counter-clockwise turning, a runner’s is not!

The point of all this is:  If you have a running condition that affects one side of your body differently than the other, it may help to look for asymmetrical causes, and consider asymmetrical solutions.

p.s. – in the case of that young lady, I offered two suggestions:

– experiment with different types of insoles and inserts, but in one foot only; try something in one side one day, then another day try the same device in the other…

– check out asymmetrical breathing. Instead of an equal number of steps on every inhale and exhale, make it three steps inhale and two out, or two and three, or any other pattern that totals to an odd number.  Our core muscles do different things inhaling and exhaling, and create different stresses and tensions.  If you breathe symmetrically, you’re always putting those stresses on the same side of your body.  Asymmetrical breathing distributes them more equally – at least it’s worth a try!

Uphill running is tough.  It’s like… well… like running uphill. It’d be hard to get much argument there.

But downhill?

Some folks love it (put me in that camp – I’m happy to take gravity’s help any time I can), and some folks hate it; say it’s hard on the legs, busts up their toes, scary to go fast if it’s steep.

If you’re in that latter group, here are a few things that seem to work for me.

• When things start going downhill, resist the impulse to stretch out your stride and bound along; that increases impact (read: potential pain and injury), which is already exacerbated by the fact that the ground is slanting down in front of you, so your foot (and your entire body mass) is going to travel farther (and therefore faster, since gravity is an accelerating force) on every footfall, just to reach the ground.
• Stretching your stride can also lull you into reducing your level of effort and relying on gravity to maintain your normal pace.  Instead, lengthen your stride only moderately (if at all) from what it was on the preceding terrain.  Keep your footfalls under your body, not way out in front of you (a foot landing out ahead of you has a braking effect!) and take advantage of the downhill by increasing cadence as much as you can, keeping your breathing rate and level of exertion as high as they are on level ground.  This will   allow you to exceed your normal pace, maybe making up time lost on any uphills.
• A good way to achieve this is to picture yourself as Road Runner (the one in the cartoon, not the real feathered one).  Imagine your feet whirling around in tight circles like wheels, beneath a body that is rolling downhill, pulled by the force of gravity which, for once, is on your side.

Oh yeah, about that ‘scary when it’s steep’ feeling, two suggestions: one, think of your upper body being just a little back of vertical, your hips out front a touch.  That way your mass doesn’t get ahead of your feet and make you more vulnerable to tripping.  And on rugged or really steep descents, turn your toes up, pressing their tips against the tops of your shoes, and let your feet strike more to the heel than usual – it’s no fun to catch a toe and trip on level ground, but on the downhill, when you’re going fast and the ground is falling away from you – meaning you have farther to fall – it’s even less desirable (voice of experience again…). Since the ground is angling down toward the front of your foot, heel striking is almost a necessity on downhill, which may be part of the reason many folks find downhill so painful if they haven’t trained for it, working gradually up to longer and steeper grades.

Chances are, you earned your downhill – most come with at least some amount of climbing – so take advantage of Mother Nature and father Newton’s laws:  tip back, spin your feet, maybe hook your toes, and enjoy the pull of gravity.