playthink

I just returned home after a week of high-altitude livin’ in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Two great runs bookended my trip: On day one of my vacation in Jackson, I went for a light and easy morning jog to stretch my legs. Twenty minutes into my jaunt through the neighboring community of Wilson (population: 1,300; elevation: 6,100 feet), I looked up at Teton Pass, the mountain road that climbs 2,200 vertical feet at grades of up to 10 percent and cuts through the rugged range that divides the Equality State from the Gem State, and was overwhelmed with a curiosity to run to the top. (In summers past I have busted my quads riding to the summit.) A breathtaking view of the valley floor from an elevation of 8,400 feet was my reward. Incredible.

This run was just a warm-up for when I would play King of the Mountain(s) at the end of my vacation. Starting from Teton Village (elevation: 6,300 feet) at Jackson Hole Mountain Resort, I darted up a trail that wraps its way to the top of Apres Vous Mountain (8,500 feet), then crossed over and trekked up to the tippity snow-capped top of Rendezvous Mountain (10,500 feet), and then descended just a wee-bit to Gondola Summit (9,000 feet). This epic trail run sometimes seemed like a Sisyphian challenge (especially the trudge up the steep, slippery, and bowl-shaped Sublette chutte), but was ultimately — because of the difficulty of the trek, the views afforded from the mountain peaks, the wildlife that I found myself surrounded by, and the quiet solitude of such an adventure  — the highlight of my trip.

Having just returned home, I want to share some noteworthy news items from the past week that I am just now having a chance to catch-up on:

** Philosophy Talk, one of my favorite local radio programs, gets some much deserved recognition, courtesy of the L.A. Times article, Yeah, these philosophy professors will give it some thought. “Thank you for thinking.”

** Gretchen Reynolds of the NYT highlights an important and oft overlooked concern about the health of endurance athletes: The sometimes obsessive weight iusses of male and female athletes:

In [a] study published earlier this year in the Clinical Journal of Sport Medicine, 223 Swedish Olympians (125 men and 98 women) were weighed, measured and asked about their eating habits. The thinner athletes, many of them from endurance sports, reported more episodes of wild weight swings and eating disorders than other athletes. Even more startling was that the eating and weight problems were most common among the thin male athletes. The women didn’t worry about their weight nearly as much. In fact, according to Dr. Hagmar Magnus, a physician at Karolinska University Hospital in Stockholm and the study’s lead author, “the female Olympians ate a lot and planned meals well. The men didn’t.”

Magnus says the lessons of the study are broad. For one, “we’ve all been paying a great deal of attention to female athletes, trying to help them avoid eating disorders,” he says. “We need to start doing that for men.”

In addition, “the best female athletes in Sweden eat quite well, which suggests that good eating is a real competitive advantage,” Magnus says. “As a physician, I see many female athletes, not quite so elite, who have eating problems. That may be what has kept them from the top ranks. I’d love to get the message to them, you can eat your way to greatness.”

** Walking book clubs?! Exercise the mind and the body to maximize cognitive and bodily health, says Dr. Arthur Kramer, Professor of Psychology and the Director of the Biomedical Imaging Center at the University of Illinois, in this interview with Alvaro Fernandez of SharpBrains.

** And follow-this up with another fascinating AF/SharpBrains discussion about why and how smart people do really dumb things, like the Harvard students who paid $204 for a $20 bill. Wha?! Ori Brafman, co-author of Sway: The Irresistible Pull of Irrational Behavior, explains “the different hidden forces” and “psychological undercurrents” of our decision making processes here.

Play, think…
J.R. Atwood

This post is republished — and was one of the most popular articles — from a now-defunct blog I used to maintain.

It’s always a bit sad to retire a pair of running shoes, but alas, the time has come to move my Salomon XA Pro 3D trail shoes from my “running shoe” bin to my “general gym shoe” bin, also known as the place where running shoes go to die.

These shoes were my one of my first “real” pair of trail shoes, and after logging near 600+ miles in them on various dirt trails, muddy paths, and through streams in the hills of Mt. Diablo State Park, the Marin Headlands, and Jackson Hole, Wyoming, I want to offer a review of the Salomon XA Pro 3D. (So many shoe reviews on other websites and in magazines talk about the way the shoe feels out of the box or after running a dozen or so miles in them… Hopefully I can provide some further insight after exhausting the life of these shoes.)

First, the pros: Great looking shoe! To be honest, I bought it partly because of its aesthetic appeal and aggressive look. The gray on black color scheme, with multicolored label striping the tongue, reminds me of a well-polished, shiny black Dodge Viper resting quietly, but confidently, among a row of candy apple red and cobalt blue sport cars. It doesn’t need a flashy design, silly gimmick, or obnoxious color scheme to turn heads. Somehow, the understated, yet sporty designed, shoe looks fast and light just sitting in a box. It called to me. (Score one point for the marketing folks at Salomon.)

More pros: This is a light shoe that nicely hugs the foot. It wraps the heel and foot while providing enough room in the toe-box for some breathability. The firm rubber toe-stop is great for preventing stubbed-toes on gnarly root and boulder strewn singletrack.

It is a very fast shoe. I like that it rises a bit towards the back — it fits somewhere between a low-top racing flat and a high-top hiking boot, providing just enough protection and flexibility in the ankle area.

I also like the laceless, pull-tight “lacing” mechanism. I think Salomon uses some type of Kevlar type material for this and it is a neat design that provides an as-snug or as-loose fit as you want along the top of the foot. One never has to worry about a shoelace coming undone.

But one of my training buddies mentioned a potential drawback with this “laceless” system: If, for whatever reason, your lace gets stuck on a branch while running downhill at sub-5:00/mile pace, you are going down and going down hard! A regular shoelace would untie or snap, but because these laces are bulletproof and utilize a unique design system, catching a snag can bring you to an ugly and painful stop. Note, of all the miles and crazy trails I have run in these, this never happened to me. But I suppose the possibility is there.

And on a smaller note, I could not tie my car key to my shoelaces on the Salomon! Instead, I had to carry my key either in my backpack (on long treks) or in the little “key pocket” in the front of some running shorts. (I am a bit paranoid that the key will fall out or make a hole in this pockets and constantly check to make sure I did not lose it somewhere along the trail.)

Moving into the cons… There aren’t many! This was a fantastic shoe that kept me feeling fast and confident on even the most treacherous of courses. (The traction is awesome!)

But once I started upping my mileage, I began to curse the Salomon’s. Invariably, around 12-14 miles into a run, my forefeet would feel incredibly tender, soft, and bruised. The pain would be so bad that I’d find myself silently cursing and sometimes holding back a tear or two as I trudged along on a rocky course 13 miles away from my car. This is because the sole of the XA Pro is pretty soft. Its flexibility in the sole makes it light and fast, but also a poor choice for long-distance trail running. The sole is entirely too squishy.

I know the shoes are the source of this pain because I would sometimes switch shoes mid-run (after looping back to the car) and the pain would immediately subside. Other times I used different pair of shoes on the same course for its entirety without experiencing this incredibly forefoot pain.

A surprisingly large number of my friends and fellow trail runners have said they experienced similar problems with the Salomon XA Pro 3D and sent them into early running shoe retirement, opting instead to try other brands and models.

Bottom line: Would I buy another pair? Definitely maybe. (I am practicing asking my own, and refusing to answer, questions in case I ever run for President.)

These are great shoes for short-course trail running — fast and light with the perfect blend of technology and function. I have run a number of trail races, from 3 to 16 miles, and training runs up to 29 miles in my Salomon’s; I always felt confident with them on my feet. It’s just that at mile 12 or so, the foot needs something stiffer and a bit more protective.

If heading into rocky trails or runs of more than 12 miles, you might want to try something with a stiffer sole. A large number of “serious” trail runners seemed to have once tried, then moved far away from, this model, too, for whatever that’s worth.

The retail price on these shoes are north of $100, but there are many places online or at the SportsBasement in San Francisco where you can get them for around $80. For that price, maybe try a pair and hit some short trails. They make a great light-weight and incredibly comfortable hiking shoe, as well.

RIP, Salomon XA Pro 3D.

Play, think…
J.R. Atwood

Be sure to give yourself 20 minutes to read “No Finish Line” by Alexander Wolff, a Sports Illustrated profile of former marathon world-record holder Alberto Salazar. It’s a fascinating story about a great athlete who, after suffering a heart attack, is forced to come to grips with the fact that “life is the only long run that really matters.”

The opening paragraph paints a vivid picture about the The Agony of Victory:

Death is one of those things Alberto Salazar used to run into. He’d finish a race and all but perish, as likely from fire as from ice. In 1978, at the end of the 7.1-mile Falmouth (Mass.) Road Race, he was read the last rites after collapsing with a body temperature of 108°. After he won the 1982 Boston Marathon, paramedics had to give him six liters of saline solution in an IV drip when his temperature dropped to 88°.

When done reading the SI article, check out Malcolm Gladwell’s blog post about Kenyan runners. Gladwell, citing Salazar’s observations about and experiences with the sport of running, makes a case for “put[ting] the genetic argument about Kenyan running dominance to rest.”

The genetic versus cultural debate does not die, however, as evidence by the string of lively, heated, passionate responses in the comments section of Gladwell’s blog.

Play, think…
J.R. Atwood 

Friday is turning into excerpt-from-Gina-Kolata day. Her Personal Best column in the New York Times consistently produces some of the most thoughtful, interesting, and well-written articles on exercise, health, and fitness. This week’s piece explores the sport of triathlon, generally, and the difficulty of excelling at multiple disciplines — swimming, cycling, running — specifically.

Excerpts and notes from “For Peak Performance, 3 Is Not Better Than 1“, which looks to answer the question, “Is it possible to peak in more than one sport at once?”:

In the article we meet Joel Friel, a triathlon coach and author of 10 books, including the bible of the multi-sport world — literally. I did not feel comfortable calling myself a triathlete, even as an accomplished athlete in the sport, until reading and underlining what turned out to be nearly ever-other-sentence in Friel’s best-selling training guide, The Triathlete’s Training Bible.

Friel says many of his athletes sometimes feel frustrated that they aren’t running as fast as they think they can and should. His advice? “[I talk with them and ask] do you really want to be a triathlete? If you want to run faster you have to give up swimming and cycling.”

There’s a reason it’s hard to excel in three sports at once, physiologists say. The training necessary to do your best in one sport is likely to counteract what is needed to be good at another.

When you are training, said Gary Krahenbuhl, an exercise physiologist and emeritus professor at Arizona State University, improvement depends on physical and biochemical changes in muscle cells and in nerve-firing patterns. And those changes are very sport-specific, he added. The result, Dr. Krahenbuhl said, is that “changes that facilitate performance for one event may actually undermine performance in another event.

“To think that you could train in such a way as to have your greatest performance in all the sports is impossible,” he added.

Even body musculature can trip up triathletes. Swimmers need large muscles in their backs and shoulders. Runners and cyclists want small, light upper bodies. Cyclists need large quadriceps muscles. Runners don’t, and in fact they don’t want any extra muscle weight on their legs.

A woman named Anne Gordon is profiled in the article. She’s a “51-year-old triathlete [who] has never gotten a personal record in each leg of a triathlon on the same day.”

But, she said, that is part of what draws her to triathlons.

“What I love best about this sport is the training, the sense that the goal of hitting a perfect 10 for all three sports will take a lifetime.” And that, she added, “is O.K. by me.”

As noted, I participated in the sport of triathlon for a few years before leaving for a host of issues that I’ll explain in another post. But the elusiveness of perfection that Ms. Gordon refers… This is what intrigued me about triathlon. There are so many variables in a race — the swim, bike, and run, of course, but also the transitions, hydration and nutrition management, and gear and technical issues — that I never executed anything close to a perfect performance.

But it is that frustration — I had a great swim and run, but I got two flats on the bike section, or I didn’t grab my special-needs bag out of T2 and utterly bonked on the run — and that hope — Next time, baby. Next time – that kept me racing. I couldn’t quit until I mastered the sport and conquered at least one race.

It’s an ultimately futile chase for perfection, I realized. But an exciting and inspiring one. Says Ms. Gordon:

“The simple act of working hard at three things requires a diversity and balance in my life that is rewarding in and of itself. It is good for my spirit to know that I have to work hard and be patient to achieve mastery.”

Play, think…
J.R. Atwood

From researchers at Princeton University: Running by yourself could be bad for your brain. Or at least, not as good as running with a group.

According to an article in the journal Nature Neuroscience, as reported by the BBC, exercise can have “negative effects on activity in the brain… Running is known to increase levels of stress hormone corticosterone, which can reduce the creation of new brain cells - a process known as neurogenesis.”

But wait, right?! Isn’t exercise good for the brain? Doesn’t physical activity promote neurogenesis?

Here’s where things can get a bit complicated.

Yes, exercise “has been found to increase spatial awareness and to boost communication between neurons.”

But… Only (or at least, especially) if exercise is done with others. Or if done for a really long time. Here’s the rundown on this study (no pun intended):

The researchers at Princeton looked at rats that ran in groups and rats that ran in social isolation. In both groups, “running caused similar elevations of the stress hormone, which can impair neuron generation.”

However, “running was found to increase neuron generation when rats were housed in groups. In rats that ran in social isolation, neurogenesis was suppressed.”

So even though running increased stress on the brain, which can impair neuron generation, group running “increase[d] spatial awareness and boost[ed] communication between neurons.” Running is stressful for the brain, but the social aspect of group running produced more good things for the brain than it hurts.

The rats that ran in isolation, however, experienced no such gain. “Only animals that ran alone were vulnerable to its negative influence. They also had higher levels of the hormone compared to group runners.”

So running alone could be bad for the brain. Unless…

Unless you go for a really long run. “When isolated rats ran for a long time, they did see the same benefits as their short-term runner peers [who ran in groups] - but only when they had been running for a much longer period.”

The Princeton research team was led by Dr. Elizabeth Gould. In their article, “Social isolation delays the positive effects of running on adult neurogenesis” (aka “The Stress of Running Alone” article), in the journal Nature Neuroscience, she explained, “In the absence of social interaction, a normally beneficial experience can exert a potentially deleterious influence on the brain.”

So what to do? Grab a friend and hit the trails. Or, if going solo, go long. Real long.

Fascinating research. It’s enough to make you…

Play, think…
J.R. Atwood

Another great article by the NYT’s Gina Kolata, this one about the proliferation of cheating — not while running the Boston Marathon a-la Rosie Ruiz, but simply to toe the starting line at Boston. Excerpts from “Cheating Starts Before the Race Does“:

The Boston Marathon requires athletes to have run a marathon in the past year with a time that is adjusted for age and gender. Most find the race’s strict standards all but impossible to meet. All this helps make the Boston Marathon unique and makes running it a dream for many athletes.

It also raises two questions: Why does the Boston Marathon make it so hard to enter? And how often do runners sneak in by trading or buying one another’s entries?

People try to cheat to get into the Boston Marathon every year, said Marc Chalufour, a spokesman for the Boston Athletic Association, which sponsors the race. And this year’s race, which was run on Monday, was no exception. The B.A.A. finds cheaters by checking sites like eBay and Craigslist, and hopes that if it misses some, other runners will turn in any cheaters.

The reason for the qualifying times, Mr. Chalufour said, is the peculiar logistics of that race. The Boston Marathon is the only big-city marathon that starts on a narrow road in a small town, Hopkinton, Mass. There is just not room for a huge field.

Qualifying times emerged in the late 1970’s when the running boom was starting and the Boston Marathon became overwhelmed with applicants.

“The goal wasn’t to challenge runners,” Mr. Chalufour said. “That was a byproduct.”

But soon the byproduct became the goal. There are runners who have spent decades as marathoners trying in vain to qualify for the Boston Marathon. There are marathons that have become popular largely because of their flat or, in the case of Steamtown Marathon in northeastern Pennsylvania, largely downhill courses allow contestants to run fast times, increasing their chances of qualifying for the Boston Marathon.

In order to deduce how many marathoners could have qualified in 2006 and 2007, Jim Fortner, 69, a runner from Pasadena, Md., analyzed published statistics on marathons in the United States (mysite.verizon.net/jim2wr/id202.html). He limited himself to certified marathon courses that enabled runners to qualify for Boston if they ran fast enough.

The analysis included more than 740,000 marathon times and included more than 90 percent of marathon finishers in those two years. Only about 10 percent of those runners had times that were good enough for Boston.

As I noted in my last post about my personal Boston Marathon experience this year, qualifying, for me, was the finish line; running Boston was my victory lap. Hearing of these desperate runners who enter the race illegally, I wonder if they are able to outrun their conscience.

Play, think…
J.R. Atwood

Qualifying for the Boston Marathon was my finish line. Running the Boston Marathon… This is my victory lap.

And a slow victory lap, at that. More on the actual race in a bit. But first…

In it’s entirety, this weekend was nothing short of a life-affirming experience.

Boston is an incredible city. I have never been to a place where people have so much pride in their hometown. Everyone I met or passed on the street – they all love “Baaston, baby! For life.”

With the Red Sox at the top of their division, the Celtics a serious contender for the NBA Championship, and the Bruins winning in the Stanley Cup play-offs, B-Town natives were in especially high spirit.

Which brings me to a second quick note about Boston, or rather, the people of Boston. A couple friends of my friends who attended school in Massachusetts warned me that Boston could be a cold, dark, lonely, urban scene filled with jerks and “Massholes.” Nothing could have been further from the truth!

Maybe a memo went out in the Globe telling people to be on their best behavior, especially with the U.S. Women’s Olympic Marathon Trials held on Sunday and the 112th running of the Boston Marathon earlier today.

Or maybe it was the fact that a three-day weekend brings out the best in people (most of Boston – all of Massachusetts? – had the day off today to celebrate Patriot’s Day).

No matter, the people are some of the friendliest of any city I have visited. Random locals struck-up conversations with me about the marathon, offered to take my picture when I was attempting self-portraits in front of the library at Harvard and inside historic Faneuil Hall, and provided top-notch directions around town when they saw me fumbling with my city map.

In addition to being wooed by the locals, I fell in love with the architecture and history of the city itself. It’s a powerful thing, upon reflection, to sit in the first town hall of America, which is more than 150 years older than the state of California, and where our founders debated the values, ideals, and vision that gave birth to our country.

So my news and notes from the weekend…

I took a direct red-eye from SFO to Boston on Thursday night, arriving way-too-early Friday morning. I rode the T (subway) into town and hung out for a bit at the Boston Hostel until my room was ready.

Quick note on staying in a hostel: wonderful idea! Not only is it a more affordable lodging option than a traditional hotel, but the design of the hostel, and the ethos of hosteling, fosters a wonderful little community of like-minded souls. In the community rooms, I met and talked with backpackers from throughout Europe, self-employed budget business travelers, and a handful of fellow runners who were more than welcome to share their war stories and advice from previous races. (I stayed in a co-ed dorm room for the first two nights and was fortunate to secure a private room for the night before and after the big race.)

After dropping my gear on my bunk bed (another cool thing about hostels — you get to sleep in a bunk bed!), I headed over to the Marathon Expo at the Hynes Convention Center, just a few short city-blocks from my hostel.

For an athlete-geek like me, these expos are awesome: the buzz of the race, all the latest gear and products… It makes for a fun scene. It is also a bit like a casino. There are no clocks anywhere (I easily spent half the day inside), and the mix of fancy-colored shoes, the weirdly intoxicating smell of specifically-engineered food products for athletes, and the swarms of short-shorts clad runners overwhelms the senses.

I splurged on a nifty Boston Marathon zip-up fleece, bought a new pair of race shorts, and then swung by the Nuun booth where I had an opportunity to hang with Eric, one of my regular training buddies from the Endurance Running Club (ERC) last year. Right after our big December race – I did a 50K, Eric doubled-down and tackled the 50 Mile course – he moved from San Francisco to Seattle. It was great to see a familiar face in Boston and after the Expo that evening, I met-up with him and one of his co-workers at one of the uber-trendy and fun bar/bistros on tony Newbury Street. I ordered myself a chocolate milk – with extra chocolate. Mmmm mmmm good.

I slept-in on Saturday morning; there was no where in particular I had to go to and I needed to let my body recharge after a week where I had averaged less than five hours of rest a night. After a quick breakfast with some new friends at the hostel, I jumped on the T again and explored Harvard and Cambridge, an awesome college community that rivals any I have visited. The weather begged for some sun-soaking, so I joined the masses in Harvard Square with my books, alternating between reading and people-watching.

Then it was time to head to the North End of the city of Boston, where I marched down the Freedom Trail, saw Paul Revere’s house, and battled tourists at Quincy Market, a San Francisco-like Fisherman’s Wharf where you can eat a wicked good bowl of chowda while taking in one of the many street performances. I also spent some time at Faneuil Hall, which I referenced above. An absolute must! Be sure to sit-in on one of the free National Park Service lectures, held every half-hour. Boston: The cradle of liberty.

Saturday evening I met-up with a couple more guys from the ERC who were also running the Boston Marathon – Kendall and Elliott, along with Elliott’s wife and sister-in-law. We dined at Limoncello Ristaurante, which offered one of the best Italian food experiences in my life. Mama mia!

Usually, those of us in the ERC never see each other in anything but our sweaty running gear, and while conversations dip in-and-out of life in general, most of our Saturday morning trail runs are filled with chatter about all things running related: upcoming races, shoes and various gear, and hydration and nutrition plans. That night, we had a great conversation and shared many a-laughs about our personal lives: relationships, school, work, hopes and aspirations. We continued our hedonistic feeding adventures by stocking-up on some scrumptious desserts at the famous bakery Mike’s Pastry. I myself brought home $20 of home-baked cookies and pastries that night, all of which were gone within 24-hours. (Part of my carbo-loading process, I told myself.)

Sunday was a whirl-wind of day. I joined the thousands of people on the streets of downtown Boston to cheer-on the top 200 elite women marathoners in the country, all vying for one of three spots on the U.S. Olympic team. The race was a beautiful, powerful, inspiring demonstration of the awesomeness of the human spirit. American-record holder and crowd favorite Deena Kastor, within the last two miles of the 26.2 mile run, chased-down Magdalena Lewy Boulet, who ran a gutsy race and had established a near-two minute lead over the first two-thirds of the race, to win the race. The battle for third-place and fourth (the first-alternate spot on the U.S. team) was epic.

Most special for me, however, was watching the women towards the back of the race – those whom had qualified, perhaps by just-barely satisfying the ‘B’ requirements to get to the trials, but had no chance of winning. They were all incredible athletes; on my best day, I aspire to run like them on their worst day. And most of them were wearing smiles, taking in the experience of being on a national stage with the best runners in the world! What an incredible thrill to participate in the U.S. Olympic Trials. And no matter how far back they might have been from the lead-group, they ran hard, with determination, focus, and intense energy. The entire scene was simply inspiring. I watched the race with Kendall, Elliott, and Sandy, another awesome member of the ERC and veteran runner of the Boston Marathon.

I sought more inspiration by attending the annual Blessing of the Athletes mass at Old South Church, which, along with the Boston Public Library, sandwiches the finish line of the Women’s Trials and the Boston Marathon. The service was beautiful and allowed for some further reflection on the purpose of faith when embarking on a physical or spiritual marathon.

After a quick check-in at the Expo (I wanted to pick-up a singlet as the weather forecast called for clear skies), where I bumped into Steven, another good bud and former training companion who was also running the marathon (what a small world Boston is!), I dashed over to historic Fenway Park to catch the afternoon Red Sox-Tigers game.

Oh, man… What a thrill. The Green Monster. Fenway Franks. And Red Sox fans everywhere! Seeing a game here was the highlight of my Boston weekend and the best way to experience the people, sights, sounds, and pride of B-Town.

Fenway is an old park – 96 years old, if I recall – and its charm, its history gave me goosebumps: Williams; Yastrzemski; Boggs; the heartache of Buckner’s error; the awesomeness of Schilling’s blood-stained sock; the high-flying victory penants for winning the very first, in 1901 over Pittsburgh, and most recent, in 2007, World Series Championships; and of course, the Curse of the Bambino which broke the hearts of all Bostonians for most iof the years in between.

THIS is a baseball town. THIS is a baseball stadium. No flashy scoreboards or ridiculous mid-inning entertainment that distracts from the game at hand. No bottles of wine or sushi are sold at the concession stands… Just baseball, baby. (The scoreboard at the base of the Green Monster that keeps track of other MLB games and scores is managed by a guy who takes a little ladder out to it every three-outs to update it with hand-painted signs.)

Last night, I fielded some calls of good luck and cheer from friends and family and turned-in early.

Today… Marathon morning.

Pre-dawn, I took the T a few stops north to Boston Common where I loaded one of dozens of school buses headed for a high school in Hopkinton, site of Athletes Village and start of the 112th Boston Marathon. On the bus ride out of Boston, I couldn’t help but think, “Dang, this is a long drive. And we have to run this?! Twenty-six miles is… far!”

Eventually we got to Hopkinton “It all starts here!” a welcome sign announced.

At Athletes Village, I visited the Port-o-Johns, strolled the grounds, grabbed a bagel, a banana, and a few PowerBars, and huddled with other cold athletes under the big white tents. We still had a good two-plus hours to kill before the start of the race. (Note for next time: bring something to read and a few extra blankets to sit on while passing time at Athletes Village.)

One hour till go-time, and after one last bathroom break, I shed my sweats and walked/jogged a mile or so to the start of the race. I settled into Coral 4 and was a bit intimidated by the toned bodies around me. Minutes before the gun sounded, the sun came out of hiding from behind the clouds and lifted the temperature a few degrees. I got plenty of rest last night; the weather was perfect this morning. All that was left to do was to run.

Boom. And we were off.

I’ll spare the mile-by-mile rundown of the race, but I do want to share one thought that kept running through my mind: Wow! Wow to the incredible crowd support. Wow to the thousands of talented and awesome runners that stretched in front and behind me as far as I could see. Wow for the hills.

The first few miles are downhill, which to a non-runner seems like a great way to kick things off. It’s not. Coupled with the thousands of people screaming and cheering for you, a downhill start pushes people out of the gate fast – too fast. And the hills take a brutal toll on the quads and hamstrings. I usually bolt from the start, only to fatigue mid-race, and applauded myself for exercising restraint today. My first two miles were right on pace for a 2:59 marathon.

As were the rest of the 11.1 miles of the first-half of the marathon. I was feeling good and strong, clocking sub 6:45 miles. And that crowd… Not enough can be said to capture what it’s like. Every mile is lined with the most supportive bunch of people I have ever seen attend a sporting event. Never, for more than twenty feet, is there an empty stretch of road. They crowd in tight, forming a narrow tunnel on the two-lane country road to Boston for us runners to pass through, many of them passing out water, juice, fruit, and other goodies to us hungry and thirsty athletes. And they scream. Loudly. It’s awesome.

At the half-marathon point, while feeling good, I knew that I had not invested the necessary training to keep-up a sub-three hour pace. And wanting to experience Boston, I slowed waaaaay down. My goal became to high-five as many people as possible, which after a mile of doing, my scrawny arms were no longer to do pain-free.

I walked-through every water and aid station those last 13 miles, thanking the volunteers and taking in the scene. The sky was blue, the sun was out, and it seemed as if every person in Massachusetts had decided to spend their Patriots Day holiday cheering us 25,000 runners to the finish line.

Ashland, Farmingham, Natick, and Wellesley – each community along Route 135 was an idyllic and picture-perfect postcard image of New England. Small and stately brick and wood-sided homes sat on large plots of grass on which kids had set-up free lemonade stands for runners, passed out frozen Otter Pops, and offered us cold-water soaked sponges to dab the sweat and salt from our faces.

Around the 16-mile mark, my body started to crash. Keeping a 9-minute pace was taking way too much effort than it should, and I couldn’t get my grubby hands on enough water and Gatorade to satisfy the deep thirst in my throat and pain in my stomach.

My hammies were screaming for the race to be over – so loudly that they nearly drowned-out the deafening wall of women from Wellesley College, hundreds of whom were screaming their lungs out underneath signs advertising “free kisses for runner.”

Heartbreak Hill didn’t break anything of mine… After all the early downhills and my familiarity with the hills of San Francisco, it was nice to run up for a change, no matter how slowly. At the mid-race mark I had abandoned any hope for a PR and was content to wave and cheer and flash thumb’s up or pump a fist to the incredible crowd, some whom were blaring motivational music from the roofs of their homes.

The last four or five miles of the Boston Marathon are a punishing downhill. Entering Boston, the crowds get wider, deeper, stronger, louder. I had my name on a fabric sticker on my shirt and it seemed every 20 seconds I was being encouraged by spectators: “Let’s go Jay Ar’!” (Love that Boston accent.) It was radically encouraging, but there were a few short moments where I wish there was no crowds: I did not want to, was not able to, go any faster, and I felt as if I was disappointing the cheering crowd with my humble crawl through the neighborhoods.

My legs were hurting. I wanted to stop. Wanted to walk. Wanted to hop the metro rail that rambled past and tooted its horn, leading the mass of runners towards the finish line. But there were thousands of people saying, “You can do it! Almost there! Looking great!” I wasn’t sure I could; I didn’t think I was; I knew I didn’t. But there’s a funny thing that happens in marathon: a suspension of belief. Just. A few. More. Miles. Hurts. So. Bad. Hurts. So. Good. Soldier on! Shuffle on! No matter how — onwards we go!

At the famous Citgo sign, signaling one mile to the finish, most of the runners around me dug deep and left me in their final-stretch dust. I started counting in my head. Anything to take the mind off the pain. Just don’t stop now. Not when so close. Steady, baby. Slow is okay.

Entering Boyleston Avenue, 800 meters till the end of the course, I looked up at the blue skies, over at the throngs of Bostonians, at the thousands of family members and friends of runners lining the homestretch, down at my shuffling feet, and then ahead towards the finish line.

I have two goals in every race: (1) To finish. And (2) to do so with a smile on my face. I was going to do it!

I crossed the line, smiling. I high-fived the people with whom I entered the finisher’s corral. I oh-so-painfully stumbled to gather my sweat bag. I collapsed on the ground, tried to down some food, took out my cell phone, and called home. I talked to my mom. It was so good to hear her voice. When I tried to tell her about my run, I had to stop talking in mid-sentence. I was choked up. Tears came to my eyes.

At first I thought they were tears of disappointment. This was my fourth road marathon in 12 months and my slowest by over 25 minutes. Just a month prior I had run almost half-an-hour faster. I started the day racing, aiming for a PR; I ended with a tired and broken body.

But then I realized no, I wasn’t disappointed. These were tears of awe, of inspiration, of insight. I had swallowed my ego at the half-marathon mark and was forced to run a different type of race than I had ever run before. A race where I was passed by many thousands of runners of all ages and shapes… and this was okay! A race where I was slowed to a humble shuffle… And this was okay!

For it was a race, too, where I got to truly experience all that makes the Boston Marathon such an incredibly awesome event. Never I have I been a part of something so big, in the middle of something so special.

Twenty-six and two-tenths of a mile. Ugh. Wow.

Run with it!
J.R. Atwood

I just arrived in Boston to run the 112th Boston Marathon on Monday, the most historic and famous footrace in the world. With the marathon just a few days around the corner, it seems an appropriate occasion to revisit the opportunity to enlist the Public Broadcasting Service (PBS) as your new marathon coach…

Last year, PBS’ NOVA documentary series aired a fascinating program, aptly titled Marathon Challenge, that “explores what it takes, physically and mentally, for novice runners to make it through a classic test of endurance [a marathon].”

And not just any marathon. Thirteen newbie runners were put through a nine-month regimen designed to prepare them for the 2007 Boston Marathon, the granddaddy of all road races.

Created in cooperation with the Boston Athletic Association, which granted NOVA unprecedented access during the 111th Boston Marathon (April 16, 2007), and Tufts University, the film takes viewers on a unique adventure inside the human body, tracking changes in the runners’ bodies.

NOVA is the highest rated science series on television and the most watched documentary series on public television. It is also one of television’s most acclaimed series, having won every major television award, most of them many times over.

The series originally aired last year, but is sometimes re-aired on your local PBS affiliate. If you can’t catch it on the boob-tube, you can watch NOVA’s Marathon online.

Boston weekend bonus: Bill Simmons’ “Idiot’s Guide to the Boston Marathon.”

Play, think…
J.R. Atwood

Gretchen Reynolds profiles once national 5K road champion, now champion miler, and maybe-one-day champion marathoner Sara Hall in “Changing Speeds to Go the Distance.”

The takeaways: (1) variety is both the spice of life and of running; and (2) even professional athletes practice, practice, practice basic fundamentals of sport.

My favorite quote from the article, in talking about Sara’s weekly training schedule and her twice weekly fast, hard interval sessions on the track: “These hurt because they are supposed to.”

Get outside, run hard, then long, then hard again. Get hurtin’.

Play, think…
J.R. Atwood

Moderate exercise can help us to sleep better at night.

So a harder workout would help us sleep even more soundly, right?

Uh, not exactly.

If you find yourself tossing and turning after vigorous training sessions, you may want to check out Gina Kolata’s NYT article “Sleep After Hard Workouts? You Must be Dreaming.” An excerpt:

It’s one of the mysteries of sleep: Why is it that mild exercise can be invigorating, but strenuous endurance exercise — whether it’s crew practice, long runs as training for a marathon or juggling back-to-back workouts to prepare for a triathlon — makes people groggy?

Sleep specialists often tell people with insomnia to exercise five to six hours before bedtime. The mild exercise raises the body’s core temperature. When the temperature falls again a few hours later, that signals the body to sleep.

But that is a different sort of exercise from what endurance athletes do, and so what happens to marathoners-in-training must have another explanation. One possibility is that cytokines — hormones that signal the immune system — are making these athletes sleep so much.

Exercise, Dr. Chediak said, prompts muscles to release two cytokines, interleukin 6 and tumor necrosis factor alpha, that make people drowsy and prolong the time they remain sleeping. 

It turns out that the single most important factor for increasing the release of those two cytokines is increasing the duration and intensity of exercise, [which is] what happens when endurance athletes train.

The article goes on to explore “whether a sleepless night before the race affects athletic performance.” Give it a read, go fun a run, then take a nap.

Play, think…
J.R. Atwood