Columbus Half

Many of my biggest dreams are tied to running, and chasing those dreams is one of my favorite parts of being a runner.  As with any dream, though, the occasional nightmare sneaks in.  One of my recurring running nightmares starts in the middle of a race, on my way to a huge PR.  This race is unique – I have to dribble a basketball while running or be disqualified.  I’m cruising easily at a faster pace than I’ve ever run, but the ball is repeatedly kicked away by the runners around me, and my race slips away as I have to constantly go chasing the ball. 

Such a ridiculous situation is all but certain to never actually occur, but at some point every runner will face a real world runner’s nightmare – forgetting your shoes, coming down with the flu just days before a championship race, terrible weather during a race you’ve anticipated for months, and of course every runner’s fear, “gastrointestinal distress”.  While I made it through this past weekend’s Columbus ½ Marathon without a porta-john stop, other circumstances didn’t quite go according to plan.

In the past several weeks, my training had turned a corner, and my nagging injury issues seemed to be at bay.  In the beginning of October I recorded a 29.52 10K at the Minster Oktoberfest 10k, only my fourth time under 30 minutes and just nine seconds slower than the previous year.  Columbus would be my first half marathon of 2011, and I had trouble containing my excitement to return to the race where I set my PR in 2010.  Race morning came with favorable fall conditions – breezy but not terribly windy, temperatures in the mid 40’s, and cloudy skies.  The generic hotel room coffee and pre race breakfast – peanut butter and banana toast plus a Clif Bar – never tasted so good, nor had the 5:30 AM infomercials on TV been so interesting.  I eagerly pinned my race number to my favorite red Nike singlet with “Vertical Runner” emblazoned across the chest, then carefully checked the laces of my new, just broken in pair of Nike Lunarspider flats. 

At 6:20 AM I left my hotel room and stepped into the chilly pre-dawn darkness, intending to be early for the 630 AM shuttle that would transport a group of invited runners from the hotel to the start line.  At 6:30, we got word that a short delay would bump the arrival of the shuttle to 6:35.  At this point I wondered if I should have left for the race myself at an earlier time.  Five minutes wouldn’t make a difference, I told myself.  At 6:45, five minutes before I intended to warm up for the 7:30 start, no shuttle had arrived and it became clear that we had a problem.  My mind began racing – the start was less than 3 miles away.  I could easily jog there for a warmup, flats and singlet in hand.  Chill out, I thought – the race employee taking care of us had been shouting into her Blackberry for several minutes – we’d be okay.  My warmup would be abbreviated, but this is a ½ marathon we’re talking about, not a 5k.  I’ll be fine.  When 7 AM came, Stephanie (without whose help we certainly would have missed the race altogether) informed us that the shuttle had gone to the wrong hotel, but the race would be delayed. 

Finally, at almost 7:10 AM, fifteen nervous runners piled into a chartered van and sped away to the race.  Attempts at getting a police escort fell through, making it impossible to get anywhere near the start line once we hit downtown.  At 7:20, we left the van and booked it toward the start.  We were near Corral D, which was a congested mass of bodies that made it difficult to move, let alone cover several street blocks that separated us from the start line.  At this point a small crowd of wispy, slight-bodied distance runners became angry linebackers, plowing through unassuming and innocent marathoners and spectators.  At 7:28 AM, as the national anthem concluded and the wheelchair racers took off, we leapt over the sidewalk barricade into the start area.  Seconds later, I discovered that a race delay was a mere pipe dream.  Volunteers forcibly stripped off my warmup clothes, grabbed my bag from me, and threw my racing flats at my feet.  If I had ever entertained the idea that it might be cool to be aggressively stripped by two women, this was NOT what I had in mind.  With seconds to spare, I jumped behind the starting mat just as the gun fired and sent thousands of runners bolting down Broad Street. 

Normally, my race warmup begins with a 15-20 minute jog, starting at a relaxed pace and building up to several minutes of steady running.  I’ll then change to my racing shoes, do some dynamic stretches and drills, followed by several progressively faster strideouts before the start.  Today, in my most anticipated race of the year thus far, I had no warmup whatsoever.  An imposing challenge stood before me: do not panic.  Forget all the exercise physiology I’ve ever studied, and make the most of it!

The first several miles passed comfortably as I followed my plan of going out conservatively, focusing on a sustainable effort and letting the splits fall where they may.  10K came in 31.23 (roughly 5.04 pace) and I still felt well within myself.  However, instead of picking it up and pressing it to the finish, I now know that I stayed a bit too comfortable in the second half of the race.  In some of my 2010 half marathons, I went out aggressively and just tried to hang on as long as I could.  I set PR’s, but believe I could have run faster with smarter pacing.  This time, I was a bit too cautious.  I never reached a point where I was “redlining”, but simply felt like my legs had taken a beating.  My PR at Columbus 2010 left me utterly spent and needing to be carried away from the finish line, whereas this year I was simply glad to be done and walked away after grabbing my medal. 

This shows that I have plenty to learn about racing the longer distances, and there is plenty of room for improvement.  I’m not excited about the time I ran, but I know that I made the best of a potentially adverse situation.  I still finished 4^th overall, but also finished 4^th last year when I ran 70 seconds faster.  However, not every race will go perfectly and there are always positives to take away.  With this race, as with any other, I'll try to never take a race for granted and be thankful for whatever I am able to do on that day.  There are some things you simply cannot control, and in cases like this one the most we can do is make the most of the situation and give it our best shot.  This is not the first, and will unlikely be the last time I'll sign off with some wisdom from one of the great fictional runners of our time: 

Crazy Guy following Forrest Gump asking for bumper sticker ideas: "Whoa, man, you just stepped in a big pile of dog shit!"

Forrest Gump: "It happens."

Crazy Guy: "What, shit?"

Forrest Gump: "Sometimes."

Goals vs. "I must" tasks

As a runner, having distinct goals is a key to improving and reaching new heights.  A specific goal provides motivation to get out the door to cover the requisite miles and challenges you to become better than before.  Whether it is finishing a marathon, setting a new PR, or making the varsity squad, a goal gives us something to strive for and inspires the dreams that only hard work and belief can make into reality.  In the end, achieving a goal makes all the training and discipline worthwhile, giving us a sense of personal satisfaction and pride.

If we’re not careful, however, becoming preoccupied or stressed by our goals can negatively affect our running and outlook.  Distance runners, with our high prevalence of “Type A” personalities, can sometimes let our goals consume us rather than drive us to be our best.  A goal should not be something that hangs over your head, causing pressure and anxiety.  If achieving a goal becomes your singular focus, you can lose sight of the present and miss out on the process of reaching your goal – the hard fought gains in fitness, overcoming adversity, and enjoying time with fellow runners. 

Since last year, I’ve sought after the goal of qualifying for the US Olympic Marathon Trials.  I’m currently less than one minute away from the half marathon qualifying mark of 1:05:00 and believe myself capable of qualifying.  However, after overcoming months of injury, I’ve realized that I’ve let my pursuit of this goal overshadow my overall outlook as a runner.  Focusing too heavily on qualifying for the Olympic Trials has caused me to think with a sense of urgency and “I must do this” mindset.  Such thinking contradicts the mental outlook that has helped me improve as a runner and drastically increase my enjoyment of the sport.  The finish time of one race time does not come close to defining me as a runner or person.  Whether or not I meet a certain qualifying standard, I can still make huge strides and reach new personal bests. 

Qualifying to toe the line with country’s best distance runners would be an enormous personal accomplishment.  However, viewing this goal as an ultimatum can potentially detract from my progression and growth as an athlete, and letting it hang over my head until I achieve it is not a positive approach.  My return from injury has renewed my sense of joy in challenging myself to be my best and reaching for something within me that I know is there.  Instead of “I must hit that qualifying time,” I think my best bet is to emphasize the attitude that has propelled me forward as a runner – train like an animal, and give my absolute greatest effort each time I toe the line.  If I’ve given my very best, I can always be pleased with the result.

Don’t allow goals to be a deadline or a measurement of you as an athlete.  View them not as something you “have to do,” but as an opportunity to find something new in yourself.  Never be afraid to challenge yourself, but remember to enjoy the pursuit of your goal and the road it takes to get there – not just the end result.  All in all, the biggest accomplishment is the knowledge that you gave your best.  Dream big!

Finishing at this weekend's Canalway Classic 5k in Navarre OH

There's No Place Like Home

Some races hold a certain nostalgic quality that puts an extra pop in your step and adds excitement on top of the pre race butterflies.  This past weekend, I returned to my hometown of Canton, OH to run in the Pro Football Hall of Fame 5 Mile.  The first time I ran this race was in 1998, back when it was still a 10K and 2 mile!  It’s always a joy to run a race where so many people know who you are and shout your name as you run by.  Coming back to the race each year helps me reflect on the past year and my development as a runner, as well as dream of future goals.  Knowing the course by heart and running on such familiar territory makes the HOF race one of personal favorites. 

This year’s race – only my 2^nd since returning from injury this spring – was another success, as I finished 2^nd overall in a time of 24.39.  With just over 2 months of training complete, I’m reassured that I’m on the right track to returning to PR shape.  In both races, I watched from behind as another Northeast OH runner, Ridge Robinson, won decisively.  I’ve known Ridge since high school, and it’s exciting to see him take off this year.

One thing (among many) that I love about running is that that competition is supportive and friendly rather than adversarial.  Running against others helps bring out the best in each of us, pushing us to heights we may not be able to reach alone.  Ridge and I have competed at a similar level during recent years, and seeing his success is very encouraging – it’s a prime example that consistent training and patience will bring results.  His dominating performances recently provide a strong motivation to keep training hard, hoping that we can push each other to the next level. 

Training rolls on and summer continues passing by, adding to the excitement and anticipation of the fall racing season.  Each day at Vertical Runner, I’m inspired by hearing the stories of runners of all ages and abilities.  It’s a huge pleasure connecting with fellow runners and helping them find the right shoes and equipment.  Believe it or not, Northeast OH in the summer is a great place to be for a distance runner!

Feelin' the Heat

It’s hot.  The middle of summer is upon us, bringing its trademark high temperatures and stifling humidity.  Paces that normally flow with ease suddenly require a draining effort, and running after 8AM can quickly turn into a serious mistake.  The heat slows you down and tires you out quicker, but don’t complain just yet.  On your next sweat soaked hot weather run, imagine the dead of winter – piles of snow, biting cold, and freezing wind.  I’ll take the heat and sun any day!

Hot, humid weather can be oppressive, but your running experience doesn’t have to wilt under the sun.  The summer is a great time to make your workouts effort based.  Heat will slow down your pace, but you can still achieve the same training effect by structuring workouts based on your effort or heart rate instead of pace.  Summer is also a time stacked with road races – there are several to choose from virtually every weekend.  You may not set a PR in warmer weather, but a summer road race can still be a blast.  They’ll boost your fitness, break up the monotony of training, and allow you to mix it up with fellow runners.  On top of that, where else can you be carried to the finish line by the shouts of a cheering crowd?

In my experience as a runner, there is simply something satisfying about habitually doing something that attracts the label “crazy”.  There’s also no feeling like finishing a sweltering run, and feeling the cold rush of jumping in a swimming pool or turning cold water from a hose on your head.  Despite its sometimes unbearable hotness, summer brings nostalgic memories of drowsy early mornings, relief at being caught in a thunderstorm, the chirp of crickets, and cruising along in the evening twilight.  The long days and balmy nights hold a sense of freedom and hope of things to come.  Once the cooler temperatures of fall arrive, your toil under the hot sun is rewarded with the sensation of flying on the run. 

The forecast continues to be as hot as ever, so stock up on popsicles, hydrate like a camel, and set the alarm early – you won’t regret it!

Back on the hunt

This Independence Day was very fulfilling and gratifying for me, as I successfully finished my first race since mid January.  After that race, I dropped out of the Rock n’ Roll Mardi Gras ½ Marathon with a hamstring strain, and struggled with injuries until the end of May.  Yesterday, July 4^th, marked an enormous weight being lifted off my shoulders.  There were numerous times in the last few months of injury and setbacks when I became frustrated and downtrodden, wondering if I could ever get healthy enough to run at the level I once had.  Watching the 2011 track season and spring road races go by from my view on an elliptical trainer was a tough situation to live with, and my numerous attempts to return to running were interrupted with constant challenges and obstacles. 

In the last month, my first few steps slowly developed into some faster running and light workouts to “test the water” and hope that my body would remember the task I had trained it to do over so many years and miles.  Last week I decided to run the North Canton YMCA July 4^th 5 mile in order to get an honest assessment of my current fitness.  I knew that I wouldn’t be as competitive as I had during normal training when healthy, but I also saw no better way than racing to determine where I was at.  Besides, I’d have to start somewhere.

The North Canton race is filled with nostalgia and meaning for me.  The 2 mile race (The July 4^th race includes a 2 mile and 5 mile race) was my first ever road race and one of the positive early experiences leading to my passion for running.  North Canton is only a few miles from my hometown, and I had run the July 4^th race many times over the years. Near the start stands North Canton Hoover High School, where I ran many high school track and cross country races and spent countless hours with my lifetime friends and HS cross country teammates.  

One of the first people I saw at the race was my college track coach, Mark Croghan, and his family.  Mark is a 3-time US Olympian and one of the best steeplechase runners our country has ever known, and also a huge influence on me as a runner.  I hadn’t seen him much while injured, and chatting with him and his family brought back fond memories of his encouraging advice before a race, as well as the goofy banter of team cookouts at his house.  As the start drew closer, I saw countless familiar faces and was once again reminded at the overwhelming friendliness of the runners, spectators, and volunteers at any running event.  Surprisingly, I felt more at ease than nervous, lifted up by the encouragement and camaraderie of those around me. 

Racing was completely liberating.  When the familiar discomfort and metabolic protest crept up past the 2 mile mark, I welcomed it as an old friend, with open arms.  Without expectations or recent races to go on, I simply ran out the life in me, and surprised myself in a huge way.  Far beyond my expectations, I finished 2^nd overall in 24.47.  Even after many months absent of racing, my internal metronome worked like a charm, helping me run consistent and even mile splits.  The last mile threw 2 ugly hills at us, slowing things considerably, but my pace drop off wasn’t terrible - without the hills, the last mile may have been my fastest. 

More important than my finishing place or time was the fact that I finished the race undamaged.  This will free me of the fear that during any hard running, a sudden pain will arise, sidelining me once again.  Overcoming this anxiety feels like having a ticket to carry on with training - full steam ahead.

As I crested the last incline of the race and saw the finish line, heard the cheering crowds, and realized that my legs were still carrying me, I was overcome with relief and happiness.  My time was far from a PR or an effort commensurate with my peak fitness, but for less than six weeks of running, I was overjoyed.  Crossing the finish line, I knew that the months of adversity were worth it.  The complete inability to breathe or stand was purifying in a way that could never be reached on an exercise machine – I finally remembered once again that there is no sensation like commanding your body to move itself over a distance at its maximum capacity, expending its last drop of energy at the finish line and knowing you could have gone no further. 

My July 4^th effort was also a major validation of my exhausting weeks of cross training like a hamster on a wheel.  If I ever doubted that the hours I spent each day soaking piles of shirts and towels in sweat were worthwhile, I now know that such a heavy cross training regimen was a massive factor in maintaining my aerobic fitness and losing little ground after a several month layoff. 

In short – things are looking up, I’m hungrier than ever to run wild, and it feels amazing to be back.

It's not you, it's me

Listen...we need to talk.  I've been thinking lately, and...I don't think we should see eachother anymore.

Sure, we get along, and we've been together for some time now, but I can't say I was ever truly happy.  OK, I'll admit it, there's someone else - there's always been someone else.  To be completely honest (and this might hurt) you were really only a substitute for my true love, Running.

I just feel like I work so hard, and we're going nowhere.  I mean that literally; we are actually staying in one single spot without ever moving.  I can't take it anymore - I need freedom!

You're great, Precor Elliptical, but you're just not the one for me.  We may meet again at some point in the future, but I certainly hope that we don't.

Here's to You, Dad

We all have our running “heroes” – individuals that we look up to and who inspire us to strive to be our best.  There are many great runners past and present who I admire and respect, but my true running hero has never run in the Olympics, set any kind of record, or even won a race that I know about.  There are many reasons beyond these that my dad, Jack Carnes, is my ultimate running hero.

Long before there were ten different road races within an hour’s drive from which to choose each weekend, before a local race cost $25 and included a “tech shirt”, “finisher’s medal”, and “goody bag”, in the days that preceded running “gear” like GPS watches and ergonomic hydration belts, my dad ran for simple intrinsic reasons – it kept him fit, made him feel good, and he just liked doing it! 

Like any boy at a young age, I wanted to be just like Dad.  You might say that my running career started with me riding my bike alongside my dad to the end of the street as he began his run.  Soon enough, I would go with him for several miles on rollerblades, which eventually progressed to seeing how long I could keep up with him on foot.  It wasn’t long before the tables had turned and he was the one trying to keep up!  Fittingly, my first pair of running shoes was a beat up pair of my dad’s Reeboks that had been demoted to grass cutting duty.  If it wasn’t for my dad being a runner, I may never have become one. 

I owe my father for teaching me the values and principles that make me the runner that I am, and more importantly the person that I am.  In the first grade, I was sorely disappointed after being beaten by a girl in the gym class mile run.  My dad took me to an open field near our house, fashioned a random loop marked by trees and rocks, and told me that four laps equaled a mile, and the only way I’d get better was through practice.  In doing so he taught me the most valuable lesson I’ve ever learned about running or any other endeavor – hard work and effort are the only way to reach your goals.  Being the best runner you can be is not about showing up at a race and performing well –that’s just the end result of the dedication and preparation you do to get there.  Finding the best within you requires challenging yourself and confronting your fears when nobody is watching, and this is something that my dad instilled in me from the start. 

It was certainly something I took for granted that my parents attended nearly every sporting event of mine, from playing soccer at age five to competing around the country as a collegiate runner.  When I was younger I didn’t quite comprehend their selflessness in driving for hours, sometimes making multi day trips, to watch me run.  In a cross country or road race they might stand for hours in the heat or freezing cold to watch me go by once or twice; during track meets in high school they often sacrificed a whole weekend to watch me run for a mere five minutes.  Recently, the full weight of their love and support has finally hit me.  It wouldn’t have mattered if I won or came in dead last, if I set a record or posted a time that would only pass as mediocre in the girls’ race.  All that mattered to them was that I gave my very best effort in any event.  Sometimes I’d finish a race disappointed and angry, and other times I was elated after setting a new personal best.  Regardless, somewhere beyond that finish line my dad would be waiting for me to tell me “Good job”.  No matter how impressively or poorly I ran, I always felt like I made Dad proud – and that taught me that I should also be proud of myself aside from the result.  What matters more than the numbers on the clock ever will is knowing inside that I gave my absolute best, with no excuses and nothing held back.  If I’ve done that, I know that I’ve succeeded. 

It’s been a long time since those rollerblading ventures, but Jack Carnes is still out there, putting in the miles.  He’s dealt with injuries and the inexorable march of time, but remains incredibly fit and still loves to run.  When I was still in elementary school, my Dad inspired me to run.  In my adolescent years he taught me valuable lessons about hard work, discipline, and what truly matters.  Now, he shows me that consistency and perseverance bring great rewards.  Nothing worthwhile comes easily, and obstacles will be sure to obstruct your path.  All you can do is put your head down and keep moving forward.  Lastly, my dad wouldn’t have been running all these years if his only objective was to win.  The biggest reason he’s stuck with it for so long is that he enjoys it, and that delivers one of the most important but overlooked aspects of running – have fun!

I find plenty of inspiration in the stories and feats of some of the world’s great runners, but none of these have had anything close to the impact that my father has had on me as a runner and individual.  He is and always will be my hero.