Training June 28 - July 4

Monday: AM 2 miles PM 1ooo-meter outdoor swim. Core/lifting

Tuesday: AM 2 miles lots of pain. PM 1500+ yards indoor no wetsuit. 30:09

Wednesday: PM 1650 yards swimming 32:30 Felt great

Thursday:

Friday:

Saturday:

Sunday:

Total: 4 miles on land almost 3 on water

So it goes...

"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to always tell the difference."

-Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five

It seems as though the time has come to make some serious adjustment to my goals for the remainder of the year. A month into this "injury" with no end in sight has left me incredibly frustrated and sad. Usually the injury bug at least has the decency to kick me during the winter. Being unable to train during this glorious summer is leaving me a little rough around the edges.

As far as treatment and training news there are a few new details from the previous weeks. I am still icing and taking prescription anti-inflammatory medication. I have constructed a massive heel lift to try and completely limit my range of motion on the left side. And I have gotten a referral to see Dr. Heather Schafer at the sports medicine office here in Keene. I have also decided to start running again, although what I am doing right now hardly resembles running. I have run two miles two days in a row with limited success, lets just leave it at that. I have also done a few 1000 plus meter swims that are telling me that my fitness is still hiding just below the surface. I am going to try my best to make this a daily routine until I know what direction Dr. Schafer will point me in.

As far as the major adjustment to goals is concerned I have been forced to make some major changes. (grant me serenity to accept the things I cannot change) At this point in time I have decided that a fall marathon is completely out of the question. I don't see the point in trying to force the issue at this point in time. This decision makes me very sad but it feels like the right thing to do. I have decided to readjust my focus to the New England fall cross-county season. I would like to make a few strong showings and place in the top ten at Mayors Cup again. I am going to wait and see how things play out over the next few weeks before closing the door on my other goals for the summer.

Hopefully things will turn around soon and I will be able to get back after it with the Keene training crew. There is a big portion of my current anguish that has arisen from the gap I am feeling from the group. Within that group I felt like something special could happen during any given moment. Whether it was an inspiring interval or an unbelievable joke on the cool down the recipe was always spot on for running at its best. As we all get older and more detached from our days on a real team this togetherness seems critical to our mental health. Hopefully there is a distant ship bringing relief that is just over the next horizon.

Cheers,

Mark

Bowling for Dollars...

"Gentlemen," Cassidy would say, rising at dinner and tapping his glass for silence, "we have got to have a plan. We must have a plan even if it is wrong." Once A Runner

Three weeks have past since the sweet misery and mystical delight of the Vermont City Marathon. Three weeks in the hurt locker with an absurd achilles issue has left me clutching the final shards of my athletic sanity. As the solstice arrives with its usual heat and humidity so comes the arrival of a new training plan.

After three weeks of thought I have decided to structure my training into three distinct periods. Periodization is an important concept of training that I feel adds an individual element to my personal training plans. Looking back on the structure of my last training cycle I feel as though the first two periods were nearly flawless. Coming off the IT band issue in November I did not feel very fit. I felt as thought the majority of the year was spent regaining fitness and confidence following the stress fracture in my sacrum. Things changed on December first with the 800-meter time trial. That morning sparked my training and started the drive to VCM. Along with the faster interval training I was also swimming two or three nights a week at the Keene State pool. I felt that added component jump started my fitness and led to a 8:29, 4:20 double by the end of the year. This first month of cross training with running got me fit fast and led to a great indoor track season. In all honesty January could not have gone better. I was thrilled to run 4:08 on seven weeks of training. My only regret throughout the past six months was that I jumped up my training far to quickly. I went from cranking 200's in 27 to running 5:00 miles and doing long tempos. My body did not seem to respond all that well and this had a detrimental effect on my confidence. Clearly this was an important lesson to learn for next time around.

This leads to the plan for this cycle of training. Right now the tentative plan is to try and get into a fast fall marathon. I don't want to put my name on anything yet as I hope this achilles issue will vanish into thin air. What I will focus on outlining right now is the details of this next month of training. The goal for the first week is to run three or four miles every day and get my legs back under myself. I am also going to try and do three open water swims of over a mile at Goose Pond. The addition that I am going to make for this cycle is the addition of some difficult mountain bike rides. By the second week of July I would like to be running 60-65 a week with the addition of some light workouts. It is my hope that this block of overall base work will lead me refreshed and ready to get back into my traditional training. I have already decided that the second phase of this block is going to be based around the Daniels half marathon plan that I had so much success with a couple of seasons ago.

I have a few tricks up my sleeve that I am wrapping my mind around for the latter period of this block. Right now all I am focused on is getting in work ever day over a couple of different disciplines. There is a lot to fun to be had with period of training and I am looking forward to ever step, rep, stroke and cycle.

Cheers,

Mark

Demons...

With the emergence of this post marathon injury the demons have begun to seep out of the tiny crevices of my mind. The chemical balance that I worked so painstakingly hard on establishing during the past six months has begun to slip in the wrong direction. The obvious slew of "what ifs" and "when wills" have begun to show their nasty faces.

As many of you know the Keene Wednesday workout has become bigger than any of us could have ever imagined. What is less known about Wednesdays is the post run music session at my place. Inevitably the topic will shift to running at some point in the evening. Lately I have been talking with Greg about the torture we put our bodies through on a regular basis. Following a close call on my mountain bike this week Mary added a perspective that although I had heard many times before took on a whole new meaning. Basically Mary said, "How long do you think you can keep doing this? I don't want you to be an old man when your fifty."

As we delved into this topic I found myself asking a lot of why questions that always led back to the same answer, the demons. What happens if I never qualify for the trials in the marathon? Am I a failure? I never broke four minutes, am I a failure? What is the standard with which we measure ourselves as runners? Would I be just as happy if I took some time away from the roads and focused on trail running or Xterra? Inevitably I find myself saying no because I understand the menacing cruelty of my harshest critic, my demons. The obvious irony is that those very menacing and cruel demons are responsible for all of the joyfulness running has brought me. Clearly I am sitting around way to much and putting far to much energy into thinking about reasons to run. If I don't get some miles in my legs soon I am worried that I am going to turn into Dennis Hopper's character from Apocalypse Now.

On a more positive note I had an important day in my recovery. I had an outstanding chiropractor appointment this morning with Dr. League. Rob thinks that with the way my left calf cramped in the waning miles of the marathon that my bodies super compensation put the screws to my left side, top to bottom. Additionally I had a fantastic fifty minute massage at Devine Back and Body that left my calfs feeling like wads of cookie dough. The plan is to keep off my feet through the weekend and then giving some light running a go on Monday.

Mark

Achilles Last Stand...

Into the sun the south the north, at last the birds have flown
The shackles of commitment fell, in pieces on the ground...

Maybe as the massive weight of the commitment of the marathon left my shoulders my bio-mechanics did not fully adjust. Somewhere in the misguided madness of the marathon my left achilles tendon got extremely inflamed and sore to the touch. I have been taking ungodly amount of ibuprofen and icing every second of my free time with no discernible results. My inability to run over the past ten days has led to a rather maddening and pathetic sort of cabin fever. Scrubbing the bathtub with a toothbrush burns a lot of energy but I would rather be laying down some serious base for the fall. Last night I attempted a rather difficult mountain bike excursion that left me ailing today. Granted I probably should not have raced to the "top of Keene" and back but I can't ride a bike any other way.

So I guess I am asking for an all hands on deck with this one. Please comment with any helpful advice to get me over the hump and back on the road.

Mark

Vermont City Marathon:

Sunday morning I ended my current training cycle with my first serious attempt at the marathon distance. Fyffe and I got to Battery Park a little bit after seven and hung out under a tree and waited for various familiar faces to show up for support. At around seven-thirty I decided to do a short jog around the starting line while listening to some Pearl Jam. I had been trying to steer clear of the PJ all weekend to avoid getting over amped. I was pretty chilled out so I was confident that a little Corduroy with a short Eddie dance session would have me set for twenty-six point two miles of madness.

The starting line experience was one of the most beautiful and brilliant moments of my entire life. With a minute to go until the gun the press box started blasting the intro to Where the Streets Have No Name. As the Edge came in I looked down at my legs and realized that every square centimeter was completely covered in goose-bumps. I looked at my arms and every tiny hair was standing on end. The most incredible wave of emotion consumed my entire body. The realization that I was perched not only on the end of an incredible journey, but on the edge of soul wrenching experience that would have a profound effect on the rest of my life. Tha

t song will never be the same for me after this moment.

Off the line I fought every instinct I had in my body and immediately tucked into the second pack with Fyffe and Curtis Wheeler. Jon, Gavin, Juan Carlos, and Trent took it out like men on a mission. We were controlled during the first mile (5:38) before getting into a serious rhythm. Looping back around to town to run past the start again was the most intense race feeling I have ever gotten before. I can only imagine the energy and excitement that traces a route like Boston or New York. As we headed out on the high way section I was totally locked in and focused like never before. I will list my full line of splits later but throughout the first half of the race I was either right on pace or a few ticks fast. Coming back into town Fyffe and Wheeler gaped my and I ran five to ten seconds off their pace. Mile nine to ten was the fastest of the race with the long downhill from Church Street to the bottom of Main Street. I was a little alarmed to see 5:10 on my watch but was

comforted by seeing 54:00 on the clock as I passed ten. A shaded quick but noting to panic about.

My next three miles were a blessing and a curse at the same time. I was

locked in on pace and as a result closed the gap on Justin and Curtis. Just before thirteen I had the frustrating experience of missing one of my bottles but I did not let it rattle my rhythm. I passed the half in 70:49 and thought I was in business to take a crack at 2:21. When we hit the base of Battery Hill my rhythm broke for the first time. I was having my first tiny bad patch of the race and this short steep hill punched me right in the gut. Justin and Curtis easily gaped my and I knew that I had to let them go. The mile split for the Battery Hill segment was 5:51 which was not all that bad. I took a few more minutes to re-establish my rhythm and start my quest to make it to the fire house at the twenty mile mark. Justin and Curtis were still in sight but I knew my chances of beating them now relied on them blowing up.

Just before seventeen my fortunes changed and I was able to go on the hunt which helped trigger some much needed adrenaline. Juan-Carlos was within sight and I could tell that he was in trouble. As we approached the first neighborhood loop I had overtaken the Colombian and moved into seventh place. More importantly I had found my way back to mid 5:20 pace for these critical miles. As I left the first neighborhood I noticed Trent a few minutes up the road. His bold proclamation of a sub 2:17 clocking was obviously evaporating with every stride. As we turned into the park just before the nineteen mile mark I decided that I should not even acknowledge Trent as I passed him. I wanted the move to be like the old Seinfeld band-aid adage. Be a man, just rip it off!

Between nineteen and twenty alarms started going off in the control room. My calf muscles were in serious trouble and getting worse with every stride. I achieved my goal of making it to the fire house and was ready to attack the last 10k. Twenty passed in 1:49.10 and that's when I had to change my plans on the fly. My calfs were toast! Every step was taking tremendous effort and now I was all alone. Jon Fasulo was nearly a half mile ahead and I was beginning to blow-up. Just then something amazing happened, I didn't panic. I let my training take over and carry me the remainder of the race. As I headed down the steep hill just before the bike path I knew that the next thirty-minutes of my life were going to be incredibly difficult and test every dark recess of my inner strength.

As I turned onto the bike path I realized that Fasulo was less than a minute ahead. I stated to visualize every step making up an inch at a time on Jon. With nearly two thousand miles of preparation for this marathon in my legs it seemed a positively brilliant twist of irony that I was now thinking in terms of inches. Every passing step, every inch made was met with terrible suffering in my legs. At twenty-three miles I fought off the urge to stop and stretch for a second. Once this train stopped it was stopping for good. Jon was twenty meters ahead and I told myself that I just needed to be tough for another fifteen minutes. Just before twenty-four I picked up my last bottle. I tossed my GU and just blasted myself in the face with water. Somehow this worked and I was able to overtake Jon shortly there after. It must have been an incredible sight for the spectators on the bike path. Two beat-up, crashing, desperate marathoners battling each other and their emanate collapse for fifth place.

Once Jon disappeared I locked into my own world for the remaining eight minutes of the race. Every fiber of my existence was begging for relief. My mind shifted to the finish and what the swan song of this journey would look like. As I continued to battle every step I decided that the finish was not going to get the best of me. No falling over, no medical tent, just walk it off with whatever shred of will I had left. Approaching the park I saw Mary ahead on the side of the trail. I knew that she knew what was happening. She was such a welcome sight that all I could think about was meeting her at the finish. Running into the park I realized that trouble was really starting to set in in a most terrifying way. Suddenly may face was completely numb like I was having a major stroke in front of thousands of witnesses. Passing twenty-six miles I could hear them announcing my name at the finish. At that point I did what was natural, I kicked. That last quarter mile was filled with unreal euphoria and terror. Suddenly I was in an alien body that was not my own. My legs bent and wobbled like they were made out of rubber, and then it was over.

I stayed true to my pact that I made earlier. I stayed upright and walked it off as all the emotions that I had been suppressing the past two hours came rushing back in like a tsunami. My escort did his best to get me to go to the medical tent but I refused. At that point in my chaotic emotional state all I wanted was Mary's soothing touch. I managed to find Mary at the barrier and just let go. There is something so simple and beautiful about the feeling of being completely broken down to your most elemental level like this. As we left Mary, my escort led me to the vip tent to collect myself and my belongings. In the tent I reconnected with Justin who was on his own emotional high after his massive breakthrough. It was the ultimate Trial of miles, miles of trials moments in my athletic life.

The clock stopped at 2:25.43. A little slower than I was hoping but I am not disappointed in the slightest. I did everything the best I could have done it on Sunday and that is what I got. I am already looking forward to restarting my training in preparation for a fall marathon.

More than anything I need to thank Mary and all of my friends that have supported me with energy and encouragement throughout this process. Here's to many more great days from the Keene training group!

Splits: 5:38, 5:21, 5:25, 5:18, 5:25, 5:20, 5:27, 5:29, 5:23, 5:10 (Downhill 54:00 @10) 5:23, 5:30, 5:20, 5:22, 5:30, 5:51 (Battery Hill), 5:41, 5:32, 5:28, 5:37 (20 @ 1:49.15), 5:48, 5:46, 5:58, 5:55, 5:53, 5:49, 73. 2:25.43.

Mark