The Quack's take on the Newton Gravitas vs. the Saucony Kinvara

About 6 months ago, I made the decision to switch from my old, lumbering, heel-strike to a more forefoot/midfoot style of running. In the process of doing that, I not only switched my gait, but switched my shoes as well. I started off with Newton Gravitas and recently also acquired a pair of Saucony Kinvara. What follows, in no particular order, is my brief, non-scientific comparison of the two based on a good number of runs and a lot of races in the Newtons and somewhat fewer in the Saucony.

Upper: One thing I have to say about both of these shoes is it takes a fair amount of what would have been referred to in the 1930s as moxie to wear either one of them. My Newtons are a bright red-orange (the new ones are a bright aqua). Mrs. RQ laughed at me the first half dozen times I put on the Newtons. That said, I now find the usual drab-white-and-some-other-random-color running shoes pedestrian (no pun intended), and as a result elected to go with bright red soled Kinvara. The Newtons have a very open mesh upper - in fact, if you look just right, you can see our friend Sir Isaac (who is printed on the insole) staring back at you. They feel like you are putting on a slipper and let all sorts of breezes blow through while your running - or slush and grime if you happen to run in such things. Personally, I think it is worth the trade off.

The Kinavara are a little different, and to describe the structure, I'll have to progress from the inside out. The inner most layer is about the same diameter mesh as the Gravitas, it, in turn, is surrounded by some sort of stability webbing. This webbing is then covered, for some reason, with a sort of light weight, open-weave cloth that feels like it's almost made out of really thin monofilament line. The shoe comes off light, but a bit more closed in. It will still breath, but it offers more protection. Both the Gravitas and the Kinvara fit well and are quite comfortable. My feet tend to run hot, so I prefer the Gravitas mesh to the more closed weave Kinvara. I've honestly been tempted to cut the monofilament mesh off of the Kinvara, but more because it seems extraneous than because it is something I really notice. Edge: Gravitas, but not by much.

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Sole: This is where the shoes diverge quite a bit. The Gravitas have a full rubber outersole and incorporate Newton's famous lugs in the forefoot. In theory, these lugs return energy as you run (Newton calls this Action/Reaction Technology). In practice, they probably do, but what they also do is provide great feedback on how you are running. When you are correctly running in a midfoot manner, there's a certain feel to every step. It was invaluable to me when I first started midfoot running, and it still tells me when my gait is off. There's a learning curve associated with it, but not a huge one. I've read reviews in which folks have complained about the lugs hurting their feet. I've never experienced this - my suspicion is that either these folks are not engaging in a good midfoot/forefoot strike or are too light to fully deform the lungs. I run about 190lbs, so I haven't had an issue with the latter. The shoes seem to wear well. I've got several hundred miles on mine, and they're still in great working order. The heel is a bit of an after thought on the Gravitas, but it doesn't really matter - it won't bear the brunt of the impact. I've also read that it's been beefed up a bit recently. The Saucony, on the other hand, doesn't really claim to be a midfoot/forefoot shoe. It claims more to be a minimalist shoe - which I think most people interpret to mean something like barefoot running and therefore midfoot/forefoot running. It still has a bit thicker heel than forefoot - that said it's only a few millimeters. It really feels like a flat shoe. That said, it incorporates Saucony's Progrid into the heel - which is odd unless the company intends for people to heel strike in it. I have no trouble with a midfoot strike in it, though. The Kinvara saves weight by only placing carbon rubber in strategic places on the sole. The first run I did caused some wear in the EVA portion of the sole, but a good number of subsequent runs hasn't seemed to put more on the shoe. It provides good cushioning on asphalt and concrete. I like it, but I like the Newton better. Edge: Gravitas

Weight: Technically, the Newtons weigh 9.4 oz. The Kinvara weigh 7.7 oz. I really can't tell a difference on my feet. Edge: Kinvara (but if you can tell a difference in less than 2 oz with your feet, I'm sure that pea under your mattress was awful)

Off Road Running: The Newton's lugs don't really lend themselves to running on dirt or sand. I find myself sliding all around. That said, Newton's supposed to have a trail shoe out this fall. The Kinvara have neither the traction nor the cushioning to be successful off road. Even running briefly on the side of the road last weekend I could feel every stick and rock. Which has led to me to this conclusion- for trail stuff use another shoe. Edge: New Balance N100

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Random Stuff: This is going to sound a bit odd, and it isn't a big deal, but I don't always take my shoes off immediately after a race. I've also gotten into the habit of making my old, used up, running shoes my casual shoes I use for walking around, lifting weights, ultimately mowing the lawn, etc. The Gravitas is, without question, a single use shoe. You run in them, period. They feel odd walking around after a race (my perception is that I'm leaning backward, not really sure if I am, or if this even makes sense), and I'd never consider a day in Disney in them. For lack of a better way of putting it, the Kinvara can have a life after you can't run in them anymore. If this is important to you... Edge: Kinvara

Cost: No comparison here. Kinvara $90. Gravitas $175 Edge: Kinvara

Bottom line: I like both shoes a lot. That said, I prefer the Gravitas. I think both shoes are comfortable. Both are conducive to midfoot/forefoot running. Both are well made. The Gravitas run better. That said, they're quite expensive, and for training runs, I'm not sure they run $85 dollars better. For now, I'm going to continue to use both. I put the Kinvara through the paces and they're great shoes. I'm very comfortable using them for long runs and speed work - and pruning my hedges when their no good for running anymore. But I'll be racing mostly in Newtons - be they red, teal, chartreuse, purple or fuchsia. Mu.

In praise of my partners

This is a bit of a departure for me. I'm writing this post that's partially rant and partially high praise. We're going to start with the later. I'd like to talk about a friend of mine, who just happens to be one of my Internal Medicine residents. I'm writing this because I'm proud of him, and because I think he's setting a great example for others. The story started a few years ago, when his brother had an untimely myocardial infarction at the age of 35. Luckily, his brother survived, and is doing well. At that time, though, it made this resident start thinking about his own life. He decided to get in shape, and I he's done a great job of doing it.

Several months ago, I told him that we'd run a 5k together, and he took me up on it. He started running. To date, he's lost about 30 lbs, and he tells me he feels better than he has in quite some time. I got a text from him a few weeks ago telling me that his resting heart rate was in the high 40s and that he was running 6 minute miles, but that at that pace, he had to rest for a few seconds after about a mile and a half. I immediately sent him a text back that said he had eclipsed me, I can't run six minute miles, but that I'd still run in the same 5k with him. A couple of days later, we happened to be on call together the same night. I ran in to him about 1AM, and we started talking about running. I mentioned that he was going a good bit faster than I am right now, and he said that he didn't think that 6 miles per hour was all that fast. At that point, I realized that something had gotten lost in translation...

We haven't run a 5k yet, but he can do it. We're in the process of figuring out exactly which one were going to do. He also doesn't know it yet, but he's going to run a half marathon next spring, because I'm going to badger him into doing it (and he'll be my junior partner by then, which means I'll have some influence). And my hat's off to him. By the same token, my senior partner (who's only my senior by three years) started running a few years ago. He's now got a half marathon under his belt, and he's getting ready to have a second one this fall (he's running the inaugural Disney Wine and Dine Half). I'm very proud of him, too. That means that of my five partners, 3 of us will have at least run a half marathon by the spring of 2011. And I fully realize that I'm putting a lot of pressure on my most junior partner. These two guys, who are much better doctors than I am, have recognized the importance of taking control of their lives and their health. I wouldn't call either of them health nuts, but they are real people with very busy schedules who have made time to exercise and have been very successful. They are role models. No questions asked.

Now, for the rant part of my post. I want to contrast my two partners with something I've witnessed too many times to count. Far too many people are out of shape. I'm not talking about people who have a poor body image, or people who have an increased body mass index. I'm talking about people who are unhealthy. I've run marathons with folks of all sizes and shapes. I remember vividly walking to the start of the Disney Marathon three years ago with a 50 year old man who easily weighed three hundred pounds. Prior to that Sunday event, he had run a 5k on Friday, run the half marathon on Saturday, and was back for the marathon on Sunday. It doesn't matter what anybody says, that man was an athlete. I have the utmost respect for folks who don't have the traditional size or shape of a runner, or weight lifter, or triathlete, but are out there giving it their all. They are the true heroes of any 5k, 10k, half marathon or marathon. I'm talking about the folks who are out of shape, doing nothing to change it, and expect the rest of us to adapt to it.

This point was driven home for me by my trip to the grocery store this evening. One of the unfortunate side effects of being an internist is the fact that you can make medical diagnosis in elevators, on buses, or waiting in line at the bank. The women in front of me in line was riding on a scooter. She had lower extremity edema - likely from congestive heart failure. She had a midline scar on her chest, likely a result of bypass surgery. She was complaining of her knee and back pain to the clerk. I'd estimate that she weighed 350lbs. What did she have in her cart? Twinkies, Doritos, full sugar soft drinks, and frozen pizza. And a lot of them. I know it can be very difficult to lose weight and/or get in to shape. I know it isn't easy, but you have to take some responsibility for your own health.

I see a similar phenomenon every time I go to Disney World. Disney has a very appropriate policy of allowing folks with special needs to go to the front of the line for attractions. This policy also extends to the buses to and from hotels. Of course, I have no issue with an individual who has a special need being accommodated on Disney transportation. I support it fully. Far too often, however, I have seen someone who is in a motorized scooter simply because they have too high of a body mass index to actually walk around the park. I've actually seen people misalign their scooters on a ramp, climb off of them, physically pick up a several hundred pound scooter and manipulate it onto a ramp or lift, and then climb back on, all the while smoking a cigarette. A lot of these people jump in front of dozens of others in line because they are supposedly have a special need. Really? This person needs to be moved to the front of the line because they are impaired? Their knees hurt because they weigh too much, so they get special treatment?
On the other hand, I see the 80 year old grandmother wait in line with everybody else. I see the veteran with an artificial limb stand so a young mother holding an infant can sit. I see folks who weigh more and have every bit as much osteoarthritis not get a seat on a bus because a 30 year old with an increased body mass index has decided that they deserve special treatment.

Frankly, I'm tired of it. If you are too heavy to walk around comfortably, I'm fine with you using some sort of a device with a motor to get around a park, but don't expect to be moved to the front of the line because you don't exercise and eat poorly. And by the way, I'm a physician, I understand that some folks have medical problems that prevent them from being able to control their weight. I'm also here to tell you that those folks are the exception and not the rule - and they also tend to be the folks who eat well and exercise to the best of their ability, but just can't make any head way. I'm not talking about these folks. I'm talking about the folks who have a hot pocket in one hand, and ice cream cone in the other, and are driving their Jazzy with their knees.
I'm sympathetic. I know it isn't easy. But get up off the couch. Walk. Take the stairs. Lift weights. Run. Swim. Do something active. Eat better. Sometimes, I'd rather have the Krispy Kreme too, but I conciously try to choose the apple more often than not. Switch to diet drinks. Drink more water. That said, I'm all for personal freedom. If that's the way you want to live your life, fine, but don't expect the rest of us to adapt to your self-caused disabilities. If you change your ways, you'll feel better. You'll live longer. And you'll have a better time. Mu.

Making a confession

I have to come clean. I feel like I've been hiding something for a while now. I have no motivation for fitness at the moment. For some odd reason, I seem to be in the doldrums when it comes to running or just working out in general. I had great plans about how I was going to do things this year. I was going to start off with the Goofy (done), PR the Shamrock (didn't happen, but only because I PRed the Mercedes Half a month earlier), run 6 half marathons in 6 months (done), and keep up my running over the summer so I'd be in great shape for the several races I plan to run in the fall (FAIL). I don't quite know why I've become a slug, but I have.

It really started about two months ago. The time I usually took to run, or cross train, or work out in general started to evaporate. And so did my level of fitness. It was a gradual thing. I started going slower, and slower, and shorter distances and shorter distances. I started lifting fewer weights, doing fewer sit ups, fewer push ups, even walking up fewer stairs at work. I'd love to blame it on the heat, but frankly it started long before the mercury started hovering in the high nineties like it is now. I'd love to be able to say that I over trained or injured myself. But I didn't. I'm fine.

I'm not exactly in awful shape - I ran a half marathon three weeks ago (the Charity Chase Half in Hickory, NC, which, by the way, I recommend heartily). I ran it slooowwly, but that was in no small part because Mrs. Running Quack was tapering for a marathon the next weekend, and we wanted to run together. That said, I did a night run a few days ago and, frankly, it was an embarrassment. I'm also still sore from a relatively light dumbbell circuit 48 hours ago.

So now I'm writing this post as a confession. I'm basically calling myself out. I'm hoping it will serve to get me motivated. I'm also going to apply the same tactic I tell patients to use when they're trying to stop smoking. I tell them to tell everyone they know to light in to them if they see them smoking. So if you know me, badger me mercilessly about working out. Embarrass me. Shame me. I'll thank you for it later. Any other motivational tricks are appreciated, too. Mu.

The Last Hurrah for a Biltmore Race

On May 16th, Mrs. Running Quack and I had the good fortune to run the 15th Annual Biltmore/Kiwanis 15k in Asheville, NC. Unfortunately for all of us, it was also apparently the last Biltmore/Kiwanis 15k, as the two organizations are apparently parting ways after this year. It’s too bad; this was one of the prettiest races I’ve ever run.
Not exactly knowing our transit time, we arrived a good hour or so before race time. We took the time to wander about in the new Antler Hill Village. Nothing was open at 6AM, of course (with the exception of the restrooms, which were great), but we still were able to get a sense of the place. Friendly runners milled about the place in no particular hurry. As the start time approached, we made our way towards the starting line. We hung out at the back, because we figured we’d just jog and enjoy the scenery. The first mile or so was a very slight uphill run through a cool fog. With the temperature in the low 50s, it made for perfect running. The whole area smelled like the earth and moss conglomeration that I’ve come to associate with the North Carolina Mountains. Before long, we rounded a bend, and came upon a sheep barn. The flock of freshly shorn sheep was just being released to graze upon a hill. The chorus of baas and the moving, white, ovine mass lent a bucolic, idyllic flair to the race that I don’t often get to experience (luckily smell was still earth and moss, not wet wool). Not long after, a herd of cattle showed up on the left side of the road.
Then we started climbing. And went up. And up. The smell slowly changed to rhododendron blossom as we neared the top of the hill – which happened to be very near to the Deerpark Restaurant (which is excellent by the way). During this time, I realized that we were passing a lot of people. We hadn’t sped up much, but a whole lot of people slowed down. I also noted that the sepals of the spend Rhododendron blossoms tend to splay out on the ground in very cool patterns. They’re a bright orange sherbet color juxtaposed with lime sherbet green, and they’re sticky as hell. That said, they don’t provide much traction.
After a brief respite from climbing, we started on the hill to the main house. It was quite similar to the first climb – really just fairly enjoyable. After twisting and turning for a while, somewhere around mile 6.5, we made our way through two stag topped gates and ran towards the Biltmore’s famous French Chateau style main house. We still had a lot of fog, so we didn’t get the best view, but it was very cool none the less. The front lawn is set up so that we could run towards the house, cross in front of it, then run away from it so that it was in the background. Photographers were set up to take advantage of this back drop, and though I usually don’t care about race photos, I’m kind of anxious to see what this one looks like.
After leaving the house, we took a right and headed into the rose garden. Here the smell turned more like, well, roses. There were a remarkable number blooming. Coming of the garden, we crossed back to the main road. What had been a mostly uphill run rapidly turned into a downhill sprint. We passed by the bass pond, and gradually leveled out to run by the French Broad River. Here the smell became that of fresh cut hay. This last leg was fairly flat, and before too long, we rounded a bend and were back at the Biltmore Winery and the finish line. Sadly, there was no wine at the finish.


This race is best described as elegant. It wasn’t the biggest race, it didn’t have a ton of swag associated with it, hell I didn’t even have a goal time in mind, because I’ve never run a 15k before. Weird distance aside, what it did have was charm, great weather, and friendly people. I really hate that I’ll never get a chance to run it again. A half marathon incorporating elements of this course would be even better. One can only hope. Mu.

A Pearl Wisdom from the Runningquack's Pen

One of my favorite things about my tenure as a student at the medical school in which I now teach was the annual spring "String of Pearls" lectures. These lectures are a series of brief speeches given by faculty members chosen by the medical students. They're supposed to impart a "pearl of wisdom" to all four classes of medical students. I've had the honor of being selected to give a "Pearl" the last four years, and last year's speech had to do with both medical school and running, so I thought it might be of interest. Here it is, with some minor modifications:

When I got asked to speak this year, I wasn’t quite sure what I was going to do. I thought about putting together a bunch of amusing pearls. I was going to start out with my colleague John Brice’s rules of critical care – air goes in and out, blood goes round and round, oxygen is good, always pee before you do a procedure and move on to the cardinal rules of surgery. If you're curious those are #1 never stand when you can sit. #2 never sit when you can eat. #3 never eat when you can lie down. #4 never lie down when you can sleep #5 don’t “f” with the pancreas, but after those two I really couldn’t come up with anything else. At that point, I decided to fall back on the universal rules of public speaking the first of which is supposedly “know your audience, which is a bit problematic here. Some of you are M0s who are a combination of really excited and absolutely terrified because you are about to start medical school. Some of you are first years, who are feeling pretty good at this point because you are getting ready to have a whole summer off after a year of hell. Some of you are second years who are a whole lot more similar to the M0, because right now all you can think of is that you have boards in a few weeks and then after that you are going to the wards and you are actually going to be expected to know something. There also might be a few third years who have nearly developed a permanent grin because they are getting ready to be fourth years, and a few fourth years who are starting to lose that perma-grin because the are now realizing that they have forgotten everything they learned as a third year right before they become real doctors. Since I have a fairly diverse audience, I thought I‘d rely on a really cheap tactic and talk about hobbies.

So as a lot of you who have spouses or significant other have already found out, or are getting ready to find out, they are going to have a fair amount of time at home on their hands that you aren't going to have. When I started my third year of medical school, my wife took up long distance running. She started with a marathon that she ran my fourth year of medical school, and has kept going since then (since last November, she's run three marathons plus a couple of half marathons). She talked me into finishing one (note I don't say running one) my third year of residency, and at that point, I pretty much figured my running career for anything but an occasional 5K was over. So you can imagine my surprise when about eighteen months ago I came home from work and she told me that she had signed me up for a marathon. The catch was that particular marathon also happened to be in about ten days. I hadn't run at all in the better part of a year. I was out of shape and this was her not so subtle way of telling me I needed to get back in to it. I somehow managed to finish in a really, really bad time. What I took away form it was that I really hate running, but I really like racing – those of you that do it probably know what I am talking about. It doesn’t really make any sense, but for reasons that are completely unclear to me I'll get up at 3 AM and go stand in a freezing dark drizzle for an hour and a half to run double digit miles with no hope of winning just so I can get a tech shirt and a cheap medallion. That said, the entire time, I'm actually running, I'm thinking "why the hell am I doing this". I've done several marathons and a bunch of half marathons at this point. That is going to strike all of you in different ways. Some of you have probably done more, faster and better than I have, in which case you really aren’t too impressed (and let me be clear, I'm absolutely not impressed with it, my major claim to fame in the last marathon that I ran was that I drank a Pabst Blue Ribbon a bunch of fraternity guys offered me at about mile 23 and kept running). My wife kind of thinks it is cute that I have done it, but doesn't really consider me a runner – which I think is legitimate. Worse than that, my almost 7 year old recently ran a first 5k, and I don’t think really considers me a runner either. But I have learned a lot from running, and I think some of it applies to medical school, so I thought I’d spell a couple out here.

Point number 1 – do your personal best, and don’t worry about how everybody else is doing. The first thing that I figured out is I'm not going to win. Things have to go terribly wrong for a lot of other people for me to be competitive in an athletic event. I have on a single occasion won my age group in a small 5k, but I was the only 34 year old male in it. In a race of several thousand people, most have no illusions about coming in first. So why do you race if you aren’t going to win? Most people actually end up racing themselves and going for personal records. What you are really trying to do is run the best race you can on that particular day. Hopefully that will be the fastest you have ever run that distance. The personal record approach is well applied to medicine as well. I think this is very important, particularly for those of you just starting out. All of you are used to being at the head of the class or you wouldn't be here. For some of you, you will remain at the head of the class and it will be status quo. By definition though, half of you will end up in the bottom of the class. Furthermore, all of you are coming with different backgrounds, and that will give some of you an advantage over the others. The point I am making is don't worry about what your colleagues are doing, do the best you can do. The same thing will happen when you start your clinical rotations. Some of you who excelled in the classroom will become very mediocre clinically; some of you who were middle of the road in class will become superb clinicians. What you really need to do is do your best. I would argue that you should continue down that path the rest of your career as well. If you always do your best for your patients, you shouldn't have any trouble looking at yourself in the mirror or sleeping at night.

Point number 2 – Develop a peer group you can rely on. Something else I've noticed about people who run is that they tend to really try to help each other out, largely out the goodness of their hearts. There really isn’t a whole lot in it for them. Most runners worth their salt have figured out that it doesn't take away from their run to help you out with yours. People train together, plan strategies together, and encourage each other on the course. They also get excited when their friends do well. I think this is exceedingly important for medical school and residency as well. What you are learning is difficult. Help each other out. It is in your best interest to have strong colleagues around you, so work to move everybody up to the same level. Don’t be a gunner at any point in your career. Furthermore, your peer group is going to be one of your best sources of support. Knowing that other people are going through exactly what you are going through is a very powerful and very helpful thing. I tell the interns that they are all going to have at least one bad month that year. The thing is, it isn't going to be the same month for everybody. If you talk to each other, you support each other, and you realize you are not alone. Isolation is a very bad thing in medical school, residency, and your medical career.

Point number 3 – choose a path for the right reasons. I've figured out that I am too slow to run a really good 5k or 10k, and I don't have enough time to train to run a really good marathon, but I've settled in running what I would consider solid, but not great half marathon times. How did I figure that out? I tried all of them and stuck with the ones I like. Choosing a medical specialty is much the same. Try everything and enjoy everything: for those of you sitting in the audience who are just starting your medical careers, I would bet that most of you have an idea of what you want to do. (Rural Medicine in South Carolina, right?). I would also bet that most of you will change your mind. I came in sure I was going to be an orthopod, and I'm an Internal Medicine Doctor. Make career decisions for the right reason. You are most likely going to find people that you would like to emulate in all of the specialties you rotate through. When you are in your residency, you are going to be dazzled by certain dynamic subspecialists, and think you might want to go in to that field. What I would really encourage you to do is sit back and look at the disease processes you are treating, and decide if you like treating them, or not. Don’t get me wrong, I think it is very important to model on people, but your colleagues will change over the years and your patients will change, the medicine will remain the medicine. What will keep you interested and challenged is choosing a specialty that you like, not one that is easy or pays a lot, or has a great lifestyle, because things can change very rapidly. Cardiothoracic surgeons for years were the king of the hill, then stenting came along and they cannot find enough cases to CABG these days. It’s very hard to get in to interventional cardiology, but one really good development in clot busting drugs and that could dry up as well. Make sure you like what you are doing.

Point number 4 I’ve learned from running - stretch after the race. I’ve run races an immediately gotten in to cars and traveled five or six hours. The next day I can’t move. It took a little while for me to realize that I was much better off taking some time to enjoy the post run festivities that usually accompany a race of any decent size. If I do that I usually feel pretty good the next day. This is the prototypical "stop and smell the roses", take time for you comment. While you are in medical school, while you are in residency, while you are a physician, take time to relax. Enjoy your friends and family. Have hobbies. Go out to dinner. It is important, otherwise, you are going to hurt yourself.

Before I leave you today, I’d like to tell a story that reiterates one of the most important points I have made today. Around the turn of the 19th century a man named Henry Wellcome started a company that eventually became Burroughs Wellcome and subsequently the pharmaceutical giant GlaxoSmithKline. One of Mr. Wellcome’s hobbies was collecting medical artifacts and literature from around the world. Much of this is now housed at the Wellcome Collection in London, where it is simply known as “The Wellcome”. On the wall near one of the water closets in the Wellcome Collection there is a plaque that bears this imperious, but wise advice from King George V of England, “Always go to the bathroom when you have a chance”, which if you think about it, sounds a whole lot like “always pee before you do a procedure.”

Palmetto Half Marathon

For the second time this spring, I decided to run a local inaugural event. This time, if they hadn't put the word "inaugural" on it, I'd never have known that this was the first time it had been done. This race was great from start to finish. I, however, was not.

Let me start out by saying that I did not run at all between the Shamrock Half and this race. Not a lick. I had basically just been a lazy slug for the last few weeks. I really don't have an excuse - for the first two weeks, I was busy, but I'm always busy. The week before the race, I was actually on vacation. My wife managed to get in a few miles while we were out of town, but me? Nada. I realized this just after I cruised into the very nice (especially for a freshman effort) expo about the time it opened. As I perused the vendors, it occurred to me just how little physical activity I had partaken in recently. At that point, it dawned on me that I actually had a race to run the next day.

By the same token, I also didn't even really think much about the logistics of the race until about 8 o'clock that night. I luckily was able to scrounge up a few Roctane and had the remnants of a jar of peanut butter left. When I started looking at the course description ("challenging but fast", which in Columbia basically means "hilly, but some of it is down hill"), I started getting a bit nervous. Though I'm usually a solo running guy, I also began to wish that I had a running partner for this one (Mrs. Running Quack elected to sit this one out). Preferably, a slower one. The motivation simply wasn't there. But hell, I paid for it, so why not.

I actually slept pretty well and remembered to wake up and eat my middle of the night sandwich. The next morning was a cool 45 degrees with a very slight breeze. After rolling out of my own bed, I got to the starting line about 6:30. Almost immediately I ran in to two guys I've known since high school. Naturally, I thought, hey maybe I can run with Alex and Tyler. Alex asked me if I had a goal time for this one. Nope. His goal time was about 1:30. So was Tyler's. Let's just say that that's comfortably faster than my PR. Not running with them, at least for long.

About that time, the runners were asked to line up, and before I knew it, I was off. This is a bit of an odd race in that it starts in the parking lot of The Village at Sandhills, a kind of combined living area/outdoor mall (which, despite the way it sounds, is actually a rather pretty spot), circles around the parking lot for the first several miles, heads up a highway overpass, and makes a turn into residential neighborhoods for an out-and-back with a short loop at its distal end. On a map, it looks a bit like a bent q-tip.

For whatever reason, this was a really fast out-of-the-gate crowd. Just running with the pack, I looked down at my watch and found myself running at a substantially faster pace than I needed to be. I had to make a conscious effort to slow down, despite the fact that people were flying by me. I slowed to my usual cruising speed about three quarters of a mile in. By mile one I was starting to pass most of the people who had flown by me earlier.

I settled into a pace that put me right at a PR time, and actually felt great, especially considering my lack of preparation. We turned out of the mall parking lot and had a brief run up an overpass, and then down a off ramp. I usually hate running off ramps, but the bank on this one wasn't so bad. After a quick run down a major thoroughfare, we made a left turn into a residential neighborhood full of rolling hills. I knew that I was going to have to come back this same way, so I kept telling myself that all the uphills would be downhills on the way back. I also tried to avoid thinking of the downhills as reverse uphills. Around mile five, the hills leveled out and we had a relatively flat run for a mile or so before turning into another hilly neighborhood for a short two mile loop. About mile eight, I realized that my lack of preparation was starting to hurt me. I also knew that in some perverse version of a bear hunt, I was going to have to run right back up all the hills I had just run down.

Miles 8 and 9 weren't too bad, because they were largely flat to slightly down hill. The sinusoidal topography of the first neighborhood showed up again around mile 10, and stayed with me until mile 12 or so. Mile 12.5 found me running up the off ramp I had run down about an hour and a half prior, albeit at a much faster speed on that go round. I could see the finish line at that point, and decided to push it. I did speed up for the last half mile or so, but simply didn't have the juice that day for a great effort. My time wasn't terrible - I was little less than 5 minutes off my PR - but I've certainly run better this year.

The post race finish was only missing one thing - beer. Otherwise, it was great. Lots of beverages and food, many local vendors, and live music. I ran in to my friend Alex, who happened to have finished second in our age group. I finished substantially later, but still managed to be in the top third. And it took me a whole 13 minutes to get home from the race.

I can't say enough good things about this race. For a race this size and a first effort, the organization was excellent, the crowd support superb, the involvement of local charities and merchants appropriate. And, importantly for superficial runners like me, the tech shirt and medal were well designed and crafted. The course was pleasant as it was, and had I actually laced up a shoe in the prior 21 days, would have been incredibly enjoyable - as it was, it wasn't bad. There wasn't a lot to see, but it had a good, almost leisurely stroll feel to it. I'll definitely run the race again. Mu.

Shamrock Half Marathon 2010: What Does a Running Quack Wear Beneath His Kilt?

I have to say, with all due respect to Disney and Kill Devil Hills, Virginia Beach may be my favorite town in which to run a race. I've run the Shamrock in one form or another twice (marathon 2009, half 2010) and the RockNRoll Half there as well, and it's always done right all the way around. This year was no different.

As I've mentioned before, if I don't have a race to train for, I get, well, lazy and fat, so my spring schedule has been loaded up. After the Goofy, Mrs. Running Quack and I decided that we'd just do half marathons for a while, and we had such a good time running this race last year that it was a no-brainer to include it again this year. It's flat, fast, scenic, well run, has great community support, and has excellent swag. What's not to like?

After the Goofy, I had two goals for the late winter and early spring: transition to midfoot running and PR a half. I thought this race would be the one to in which I would most likely be successful in both endeavors, but the since I PRed the Mercedes while running midfoot, I seemed to have accomplished my goals way ahead of schedule. It took a lot of self imposed pressure off, and I decided to just have fun. Early on, I figured, with the Celtic theme of the weekend, it would be a great time to wear my Sport Kilt. So what if it doesn't really match the color scheme of my Sugoi Brand Champion Ready Shirt or my Newtons, was this a half marathon or a fashion show? Honestly, as bad as I look after some races, who cares whether my color scheme works. I did have a little bit of a concern that it might slow me down, but I had run for a while with a guy in the Disney Marathon who was wearing a kilt, and picked his brain on the effect on his running. His assessment? He didn't even know it was there. I wanted to PR in my kilt.

The Shamrock Half starts at a civilized 7 AM, but Mrs. Running Quack and I stayed a hotel right at the finish line, so we had a half mile or so walk to the starting line. Even so, we left our room around 6:30. We walked outside that morning to the first race that we've run in 2010 that didn't have a sub-freezing start temperature. Arriving at the starting line in what we perceived as plenty of time, we decided to take one last visit to the porta-potties. After waiting in line for quit some time, we emerged to the Star Spangled Banner, and then immediately after, a starting gun, which was somewhat problematic, because we should have been off with the first corral...

We dashed through the crowd of spectators , trying to get into a corral, to no avail. We finally ended up running through the landscaping of several local businesses, hurtling recently sheared pampus grass and narrowly avoiding Spanish Bayonets, but managed to slide into the shoot just as the second wave started. An inauspicious start, but we were both laughing about it.

I took off running at a good pace, and felt great. I was actually running part of the Saturday Night Live Cowbell/Blue Oyster Cult skit through my mind in the early stages for some reason, but instead of Bruce Dickenson/Christopher Walken saying "I put on my pants one leg at a time, and then I make gold records" I was going with the mantra "I put on my pants one leg at a time, and then I run PRs".

I cruised through downtown Virginia Beach towards Fort Story, and discovered a curious thing. I've never run in a kilt before, but apparently, if you do, it's instant street cred with anybody else wearing a kilt. I ran into such a guy around mile 3. He asked me if I had done any practice runs in my kilt (I hadn't). He apparently had done exactly one, but on that run had happened to intercept his son's school bus. There was much discussion on said bus as to why a lunatic was running around the neighborhood in a kilt. No word on whether his son claimed him or not. He was running a good bit slower than I was, so I bade him farewell - he told me to look out for his buddy who was somewhere up ahead of us, and also wearing a kilt.

Miles three, four, and five of this race are on a tree-lined, shady, well-maintained road called Shore Drive. While it's pleasant, there's not a lot of entrainment value. The race folks know this, and station cheering volunteers as well as local DJs and Band along this part of the route. It makes for an enjoyable part of the half. It serves a dual purpose as as miles 16 through 19 of the full marathon, and I don't remember liking it quite so much at that point during that race.

Just before mile 6, you enter Fort Story. You can do funny things with your mind if your try hard enough. Looking at the elevation profile of this race, there's a slow up slope, with peak around mile 6, followed by a long gradual down slope to the finish. The peak is pretty close to the half way point. It's frankly absurd to think of it as a peak. If actually look at the scale, you gain maybe 6 feet over six miles, and then lose those same 6 over the next 7. This ain't Grandfather Mountain. That said, I somehow managed to convince myself that I could tell I was running up hill for the first half, and that the second half was downhill and would be easier. When I reached to half way point, and the "apex" of the climb, I was still easily on pace to break my PR from the Mercedes half by a good 2 minutes. And I felt good. A crazy idea about having a negative split crept in to my mind. And why not, I was running downhill.

In Fort Story, you get the feeling you are running just inside of a cluster of sand dunes that are hiding one of the most pristine beaches in North America. You can hear waves crashing on the shore, and you can feel a sea breeze, but you can't see any water. For all I know it, the shore line could be paved right down to the water, but I envisioned it as a white billowing sand beach, strewn with large whelk shells and scavenging crabs. You even pass between two picturesque light houses. That's on your right side. On your left side is a fence with signs every few feet declaring "Danger, Laser Range". The juxtaposition always made me laugh.

Somewhere around mile 8, I caught the first kilted guy's friend. We chatted for a few minutes, but we weren't running the same pace, and I ran on ahead. About mile nine, you squirt out of Fort Story into a residential neighborhood. At this point, I was still feeling quite good. I had slowed down a few seconds per mile, but was still easily maintaining a PR pace. Things were looking good. Around mile 10, some local, unofficial good Samaritan's were offering beer. While it is usually my policy to take at least a sip of a beer offered to me during a race over 10 miles in length, if not drink it outright, I elected to forgo it on this particular race. After all, I was flying (for me). And then, it all came apart.

For reasons that are unclear to me, somewhere around mile 11.5, I bonked. I lost all my energy, and my right hip started killing me all at the same time. I slowed waaayyy down to what felt like a crawl. I somewhat angrily stumbled through the next mile, which took me out of the residential area and back into downtown Virginia Beach's main drag - Atlantic Avenue. Over this short mile, my sure thing PR seemed to just melt away. I honestly can say that I was giving it all I had at that moment, though.

Around mile 12.5, you zig zag off of Atlantic and onto the Boardwalk. I checked my Garmin against my pacetat, and realized that I still had a chance to PR. I knew I'd be mad at myself if I didn't suck it up and try to burn it on in, so I dropped back nearly to my mile 1 pace, and covered the distance. I knew that if I focused on the now visible, but distant finish line, I'd run out of oopmh before I got there, so I just elected to focus on individual boardwalk lamp posts and run to them, then I'd choose another lamp post to which to run. Doing that, I managed to maintain a pretty good pace all the way to the finish line. But it wasn't quite enough.

I didn't PR, but I was within 31 seconds of doing so. It still goes on record as my second fastest half ever, and had I not PRed the Mercedes, it would have been a minute and four second PR. I grabbed a water and leaned up against the railing to wait for Mrs. Running Quack to cross the finish line. Pretty soon, the second kilted guy showed up, and we started chatting like old buddies. Not too much after that, my wife crossed the finish line, with a 1 second, but well earned, PR.

With all that in mind, I couldn't be too upset when I received my Shamrock Medal, my Shamrock Half Marathon Hat, and my "Surprise Gift", which turned out to be a finisher's t-shirt. I was even less upset when a few minutes later I was enjoying complimentary cold beer and an Irish Stew on Virginia Beach. Mrs. Running Quack and I climbed up on a dune, and watched the waves roll in on a warm, totally beautiful, spring day. Couldn't have hoped for a better ending to a race.

So what does a Running Quack wear beneath his kilt? Sugoi Piston Compression Shorts, if he is running the Shamrock Half Marathon. Mu.

Dissecting a bad run

Last weekend, I had an epiphany. I'm a running moron. I decided to do a short run on a 3.5 mile dirt loop in a local state park. And it was terrible. And I'm really glad. It made me realize that I've slowly transitioned in the way I approach my running. And the transition is good. I'm an idiot for not figuring this out earlier.

As I've explained, I'm not somebody who loves running. Runner's highs elude me, I don't use it as a social outlet, and it doesn't clear my head. I usually run because I have an objective somewhere down the line. I'm your basic medal and tech shirt junky (I swear, I can quit any time I want). I always have to have my next race scheduled so I am training for something. If I don't, it becomes all too easy to just to just tank a run and do something else.

For most of my running career, I've purposely distracted myself from what I was doing. I've day dreamed, I've listened to music, I've listened to books on tape, I've composed my own novel in my mind (it was excellent, until about mile 20, when I realized that it was the plot of several Faulkner books mashed together), I've done anything I can to entertain myself. What I haven't done is give much thought to the mechanics of what I was actually doing. But on this awful run, I actually paid attention.

About half way through the run, I realized that I was actually actively making an attempt to vivisect my dying training session. Unconsciously, I had turned off my Ipod, ceased my mental wanderings, and started taking inventory of how my body felt and what it was doing. I realized a few things. First, I've become much more of a mid-foot runner than a heel striker. My Newton Gravitas aren't conducive to dirt trail running, so i had switched back to my old Mizuno's. They may offer better traction on the dirt, but they feel awful now. The heel is waaayy too high. Second, I was over striding a lot. Third, I have a lot more control when going downhill with the above mentioned midfoot strike then with a heel strike. Fourth, there is a limit to how much fiber one should eat prior to a run. I could go on, but the important point is that rather than just bagging it, and deciding to run another day, I actually tried to figure out what was going wrong.

In retrospect, it actually began when I bought my Newtons and started running off a part of my foot other than my heel. It continued on through the Mercedes Half, and is probably why I PRed that race. I'd be willing to bet that most people figure this stuff out while they're training for their first marathon. Not being an athlete, it's taken me five marys and double digit halfs to actually monitor what I was doing. I probably just doubled my running IQ, and I'm still the equivalent of a running cro magnon. Mu.

The Quack Knocks Out a Hundred

It's nice when a product does what it says it does. Some time back in December, I stumbled upon an app on my Ipod Touch called 100 push ups that promised to get you to the point where you could do just that. I find that I do a better job of exercising when I have a goal in mind - that's why I'm always signed up for at least one race past the one I'm training for at the moment. Given that, it sounded like an pretty ideal exercise program - quick, simple, underrated exercise (push up), specific, concrete objective one is trying to reach (100 reps), prescribed time period (about 7 weeks). I downloaded the app for a nominal fee, and got started (don't have an iphone/ipod touch, don't worry - it's also available online at www.hundredpushups.com)

I started the week of Christmas. The app is fairly simple. You are first given an initial test to determine you baseline (nothing fancy, just the number of push ups you can do in a row with good form) and then you are given a set number of reps and sets to perform 3 days a week based on your initial performance. The Ipod version keeps track of these for you and even graphs them if you like. It will also let you broadcast your progress on twitter and facebook, if you are so inclined.

I did well enough on the initial exam to get placed in the highest of the three categories. I found the first couple of weeks challenging, but easily doable. Then came the Goofy. Given that I was a bit concerned about just being able to finish this race, I decided to take a hiatus from any form of cross training for a few weeks. It seems I was able to do this fairly easily, but it did end up stretching me beyond the seven week goal.

Over the next several weeks, I saw a really profound increase in the number of push ups I could do. You actually hit one hundred total push ups by week three, though that includes all the sets. I also found out around that time, that this program was the brainchild of an acquaintance, Steve Speirs, aka @britishbulldog.

The end of week 4 requires another test to exhaustion. While I was able to crank out the maximum level of reps required stay in the highest category, I did make the mistake of then trying to get my sets in after the test. At that point, I decided that it was probably better not to test and work out on the same day.

For the next month or so, I kept plugging along. Unfortunately, I didn't quite keep to the three work outs a week, more like a three every ten days, and while think I would have made better progress had I kept to the rigid schedule, I don't think it ultimately hurt me. A few days ago, I cranked out a total of 274 push ups. I woke up this morning, expecting the daily tally to be in the 300 range, and was surprised to learn that I had completed the program - I just needed to do my final test.

Somewhat nervously, I started at 100 counted down. I didn't even really feel anything until I hit 40 (after 60 push ups). About 25, things started getting hard, and I have to admit, I had to pause a few times and collect myself during the last 20, but I made it, in what I would consider one set. And tomorrow, I'm going to do 105. Mu.

An ailing quack runs a new half.

You know, I don't think I've ever run an inaugural half marathon before. I've run a few inaugural 5K, maybe even a 10k, but never something as long as a half. That said, when the inaugural Columbia Half Marathon was announced about 6 months ago, I figured I had to run it. So what if it was sandwiched half way between Mercedes and Shamrock, I'm just running the halfs, so why should it matter? At least that's what I told myself at the time. And then Mrs. Running Quack caught some sort of upper respiratory tract plague, and I soon followed suit.

Most of the week, I felt like a medium sized sea urchin was slowly and erinaceously crawling over the back of my throat, every once in a while pulling out a miniature flame thrower and letting fly with thermite. I also had phenomenal fatigue and a something akin to fever and chills that had me curled up in bed for several hours on Wednesday afternoon. By Thursday night, though, the echinoderm had morphed into some sort of jellyfish, oozed its way up into my sinuses, and dug in like the Maginot Line (had it not been manned by the French). When I awoke Saturday morning, my throat actually felt good, but my head was completely socked in. Coupled with the fact that it was hovering around the freezing mark, I thought about tanking the race, but talked myself in to it.

I arrived at Columbia, SC's Finley Park on a beautiful and rapidly warming late winter day. The sky was blue and there was no discernible breeze. There was also no discernible starting line - just a group of runners waiting to pick up their champion chips. I retrieved mine and threaded it on to my shoe. Not long after, a loud speaker asked us all to "move to the top of the hill". A few minutes later, somebody yelled "go" and we were off. I waited a few seconds expecting to cross over a timing chip mat, but I never did. I just arbitrarily started my gps a few paces down the hill.

I have to admit, when I saw the course on the www.columbiahalfmarathon.com website, I wasn't really too excited about running it. In my mind, it took a strange rout through town, and about half of it wasn't even really in town. I thought it was a bad course. I was completely wrong.

The course was effectively a big lemniscate, which will become important later. The first leg took us north into an area of town in which I had never set foot. It turned out to be a very pleasant little neighborhood with lots of old trees and unique houses. We quickly looped back in to downtown proper and looped around through the historic district, passing between the Mills House and the Hampton-Preston Mansion - two of the small handful of remaining antebellum homes in South Carolina's capital. We then took a left and headed up towards the University of South Carolina's campus.

USC is always pleasant to run through, and this was no exception. It almost made me forget that I was sick. By this time in the race, I was starting to realize something about myself. Apparently, when I run, I usually breath in through my nose and out through my mouth. My nose hadn't been an option earlier in the race, but it had opened up by mile four. The only problem was, every time I took a deep breath through it, the could air caused a searing pain. I was also starting to get what felt a lot like a dehydration-type headache. I had to remind myself to breathe through my mouth, but every few minutes I forgot and took a big gulp of air through my nose. I also had to walk through water stations because the breathing mechanics were too complicated. It was fun.

As i mentioned before, the route was basically a big figure 8- not a double loop, but you did pass right by the finish right at mile 6. In all honesty, I felt so bad by that time, that I actually stopped and walked off the course. I fully intended to tank the race, head off to my car, and go home and get in bed. I looked down at my Garmin, realized I was running at a pretty good pace, and knew I'd be mad at myself if I didn't finish. At that point, having wasted a minute or two with my internal debate, I hopped back on the course and took off again at a slower pace. In the mean time, I made a small tactical error, but more on that later.

The second half of this run takes you out of the city of Columbia, over the Congaree River, through the town of West Columbia, back across the Congaree on the Gervais Street bridge, and back up a fairly nasty hill to Finley Park. It was on this loop I realized my screw up.

I usually use a gel some time around mile 5, and then again sometime around mile 9. It's probably overkill, but it works for me. I've also figured out that the first sign of glycogen depletion for me is not feeling weak or slow, but a change in attitude about the run. I start despairing. About half way across the Taylor Street bridge, running over the Congaree, I realized that I was dropping into my low glycogen funk. I had forgotten my gel at mile six due to my mental machinations. In most of the races I've run recently, this wouldn't have been a big deal. I was closing in on 7.5 miles, and with water stops every two miles or so, I could just pop the gel and grab some liquid a few minutes later at the 8 mile station. In this race, though, the water stops were spread out to about 3.5 miles, and were sporadic at best. Not so far away from each other as to cause a danger for anyone, but extremely inconvenient for my situation. I figured I needed the sugar, so I used the gel, but it left me with a few miles to run before I had anything with which to wash it down.

The West Columbia part of the race was very pleasant. I don't know what I was expecting, but we twisted through little 1950's-looking neighborhoods, full of tree lined streets and the occasional curious on lookers, who apparently weren't aware that a half marathon was going on that day. Mile 12 hit right at the Gervais Street bridge, and and also right at the base of the only substantial hill on the course. To be frank, I had been running out of gas, and far from passing people like I had at Mercedes, I had been the passee for the last several miles. My head still hurt, as did my sinuses, and my throat was starting to get into the act. I figured I only had a mile left, though, and charged up the hill, overtaking quite a few people. A left turn and a few blocks later, I hit the finishing line, six minutes slower than my last race, but still in a respectable time for me.

A volunteer placed a medal on my neck, and I headed for the post race food - which turned out to be poweraide, fruit, pastries, and oddly, a wide variety of some sort of boneless, sauce-laden chicken wings. The later looked really good to me, but another runner walked up behind me and said "Yuck, you can tell I'm not an ultrarunner, I can't eat that kind of stuff right after a race". Oddly, though Michelob Ultra was a race sponsor, there was no beer. South Carolina has some odd laws regarding alcohol, and this may have been the issue. The chicken partially made up for it, and I downed my share,though some of the sauces did burn my somewhat raw, plague-infested throat. Ah, well.

I have to say, for a first effort, I think this was a great race. The course, which I initially questioned while looking at a map, turned out to be excellent - it gave plenty to look at, took you over the river twice, and wasn't too hilly, which is a feat in Columbia. The crowd, while really small and widely dispersed along the race course, was really enthusiastic. The city of Columbia Police department did a nice job of directing traffic.

I liked this race, and I'll run it again next year. In the the spirit of constructive criticism, however, I'd like to offer some suggestions for the future. First, I may be splitting hairs, but in a race as long as a half marathon, you need timing mats at the start and finish - and for that matter, you need a discernible starting line. Second, the last half-dozen races I have run have had water stops every two miles. While, again, this may not be physiologically necessary, I think folks have come to expect it and plan on it. Third, get some local high schools bands and cheerleaders to come out. Have a contest between local charities to see who can have the best cheering section, etc. Get people involved along the route. Lastly, this is part of a series of races put on by the USRA, but neither the shirt nor the medal make any mention of it. If you are going to have a franchise of races - a la the RocknRoll Series or the 13.1 Marathon Series - flaunt it.

All in all, I was happy I ran the race. It was pleasant, even though I felt terrible, and I'll be glad to do it again next year. It was a very different route from Columbia's other two half marathons - the Governor's Cup and the Palmetto Half Marathon (http://www.palmettohalfmarathon.com/ , also new this year), and I think safely avoided the same race-different name issue. At the end of the day, I may have been ailing, but I'll still finished in the top third, which makes this quack happy. Mu

Mercedes Half Marathon

In the Running Quack household, we've started a tradition. Mrs. Running Quack and I have decided that Valentine's Day weekend is an excellent time for a race. It's long enough after Disney for recovery, but not so long that one gets tremendously out of shape. Last year we made a short as-the-crow-flies, but infuriatingly long-as-the-car-rolls trip to Myrtle Beach, where I proceeded to run the single worst half marathon of my running career, but we still had a nice weekend. This year, we decided to make the longer trip to Birmingham, Alabama for the Mercedes Half Marathon.

Why this particular half marathon? It was well within driving distance, and the swag seemed really cool - I mean, come on, a medal shaped like a Mercedes hood ornament? Who wouldn't want that? It's like combining Flava Flav and Ryan Hall (in a good way). Little did we know that this particular weekend would host the largest snow storm the South has seen in years. We drove through the heart of it on Friday, and other than having a small SUV hit a patch of ice and turn a full 720 in front of us on I-20 (Mrs. Running Quack deftly avoiding T-boning them with my Honda Ridgeline, which would have been bad), we saw few ill effects from the weather.

The city of Birmingham proved an excellent host for a running event. We stayed at the official hotel, which was immediately adjacent to the expo, which was a few blocks from the race start and finish. We parked the car Friday night, and didn't move it until we left Sunday after the race. It was the single best set up I have seen as far as convenience goes. The expo was fairly small, but the volunteers were enthusiastic, as were the exhibitors, and we actually stayed for a fairly long period of time. We then took a little reconnaissance trip around Birmingham and easily found the start line a block away (we also found out that most of the restaurants in downtown Birmingham cater the the weekday business luncher rather than the weekend tourist, the exception being the Roly Poly Sandwich shop, which opened this weekend solely because it was Marathon Weekend. Try the number #38). On a side note, the delightfully quirky Birmingham Museum of Art is located right next to the expo and worth a trip.

We elected to eat in the hotel restaurant that night for our pre-race meal because they were having a special pasta night pre-marathon. The food was good, and because the Black Eyed Peas also happened to be having a concert in Birmingham that evening, the people watching was too (for the record, tech shirt=runner, sequins=concert goer, nice retired couple with 3 year old grandchild = confused). Also for the record, if you want to psyche out a race crowd, put on a red and green jacket with "Kenya" stencilled on the back in big letters- the guy wearing it may have been from Tuscaloosa for all I know, but everyone was staring at him. My wife wants to have one made before her next race.

Checking the weather for Sunday morning, at race time it was supposed to be partially cloudy and about 30 degrees. Thinking back to the Goofy, we garbed ourselves in long sleeve shirts, short sleeve shirts, zap jackets, throwaway clothes, and space blankets. At the last minute, I left my throwaway clothes in the room. Thirty minutes before race time, we hopped on the elevator and exited into a lobby full of shivering runners. We steeled ourselves against the cold and walked outside... into a beautiful day.

The sun was already coming up and the anti-twilight was cool, but not cold. Furthermore, because of the convenience of the hotel to the race course, we only had to stand outside for about fifteen minutes, and most of that was in a corral with plenty of crowd generated heat. We shed our space blankets and my wife dumped her $3 hoodie almost immediately. Marathon and half marathon participants were all lumped into one big corral, with no discernible mechanism for determining the speed of those around you. We thought we were in the middle of the pack, which seemed appropriate given our middle of the pack runner status, but when the starter yelled "GO" (no pistol, no fireworks), it took us a good two and a half minutes to cross the start.

Mrs. Running Quack and I decided to run our respective races today, so I took off. Or at least I tried to take off. Apparently, the corral had been a much more heterogeneous mix of folks than I had anticipated. I soon found myself dodging groups walking six or eight abreast while some, who were running faster than I was, were trying to run around me. If I have a criticism of this race, it's this - next year have people line up in the corral by pace.

I was a little nervous, because this is the first race I've actually tried to run with a mid-foot style, and my furthest training run in my Newtons had been eight miles. When I started running, though, I felt great. By the time the crowd thinned out a bit around mile 3, I knew that I was going to run a good race. The first couple of miles are slightly downhill, and make a lot of twists and turns through downtown Birmingham. Personally, I like turns, they break up the monotony of long straight stretches and give you a short term goal on which to focus. They also tend to hide things like hills, which is important in this race. Around miles five or so, also due to the lack of line-up-by-speed in the corral, I caught several marathon pace groups who were running decidedly slower than my pace. Around that time, I also encountered, for the first time ,an observer yelling "Great job, just one more mile" for reasons that I don't quite understand. Under blue skies with minimal wind, I got hot enough that I had to unzip my trusty Sugoi Zap jacket.

Somewhere around mile 5.5, this race hits the University of Alabama-Birmingham Campus and also starts a long, slow, generally uphill climb that lasts about the next fours miles. Usually, I don't like this kind of steady climb, but the crowd support was great, the run was again, really twisty, and it offered some nice views of the downtown on occasion. I was also feeling really good, and decided that it was a good day for a personal record. I honestly was concentrating so hard that I really only remember three details about the climb - first, I saw what appeared to be a stately old mansion, but turned out to be a new law firm; second, a Presbyterian Church was giving out gummy bears and much appreciated peppermints that really gave me a boost; and third, I miscalculated distance and had to walk through a water stop in order to be able to use a Roctane and wash it down with liquid (I'm somewhat proud of my ability to run and drink at the same time and usually have my gel downed by the time I hit the appropriate stop).

What goes up must come down, and this course starts going for the most part in that direction around mile 9.5 or so. I checked my pacetat and realized I was only a few seconds off my goal time, despite having the uphill out of the way. I took off downhill. I have to say, I think midfoot running really gives an advantage here. With heel striking, I usually end up slowing myself down because I seem to over stride and don't have any control. With the midfoot, the faster I went, the more energy return I seemed to get from my shoes with no loss of control.

Oddly enough, the same "just one more mile" guy showed up around mile 10, as did enthusiastic, though somewhat widely spaced, support from the community from here on out. One could also see the skyscraper of downtown Birmingham beckoning one towards the finish line. Checking my Garmin, I realized that I had dropped off on the speed, and made a conscious effort to pick it up. It was one of those "I only have to keep this up for two miles" kind of efforts. At mile 12, Mr. "only one more mile" showed up again, and this time it was true. By that time, my calves were both hurting, as was my left foot, but I knew it wasn't anything to really worry about, so pressed on through.

I do have to admit, I was glad to be heading towards the finish line rather than out to do the same loop again when the full marathoners peeled off right before the finish line. I loved this course, but I wouldn't have liked to climb those hills second time. As it was, when I hit Linn Park, made a sharp left towards city hall, and then a 90 degree right towards the finish line, I had enough left in me to kick it out. For once, I remembered to hit the stop button on my Garmin. Unofficially, it was a PR.

I collected my finisher shirt and waited for my wife to finish. I had just enough time to cool off and realize that I was soaking wet in about 38 degree weather. The post race party happened to be inside, and I was glad to warm up. Both the beer and the barbecue were good, as was the band. All in all, this is a great half marathon. It's well organized, the terrain is varied, and while I wouldn't characterize it as anywhere near flat, I did PR on it, so it must be pretty fast.

Geographically, everything is close together, which makes it great for out of towners. The swag is good - Mercedes Hood Ornament style medal, running hat, cup, and finishers shirt and a post race party that featured Budwiser and Jim N Nicks barbecue -which go great together after running. I'd definitely run it again. And, cruising down I-20 a few hours later after the dust settled, I checked the official results. I had broken my 13 month old PR by 1 minute and 35 seconds. Mu.

A feeling of Deja vu

As I sit here in the eve (or rather close to the eve of) the Mercedes Half Marathon in Birmingham, Alabama, a familiar scenario seems to be shaping up. What started out as a kind of cold race (35 degrees, but clear) has crept into the realm of a really cold race (27ish) and subsequent to this a cold wet race (supposed to rain now). The odd thing is, it really doesn't bother me too much now. My hotel is about a block from the start, I know how to dress for this kind of thing after Disney, and frankly, it seems like some form of frozen precipitation has been present for ever run I've undertaken recently. My bigger issue for this race is the fact that my running ipod has magically disappeared. I'll layer up, go run my race, collect my schwag, and enjoy a frigid Valentine's Day weekend with my wife (the weather giving me the cold shoulder, not Mrs. Running Doc). Mu.

In praise of Fitdeck

A long time ago, I figured out that to stay in shape, I need to do more than just run. I also need to do some form of other exercise - and I don't mean hopping on the elliptical or the bike at the gym. I need some form of resistance training. If I don't, I get flabby fast. My weight balloons, and I pack on fat in places I don't want it and lose muscle in places I do, and then I also just feel crappy. And, I get weak. Fast.
I don't mean to say that I'm a 6% body fat kind of guy, we've already established that I'm not. The only six pack I have is in my fridge and nobody is going to mistake me for a professional athlete (well, maybe a pro bowler). But, I do at least try to stay in shape, and I've found that unless I work out, I run off muscle.
I used to have Andy, the best trainer in the world, who could train six foot two, 195 pound me to the point I was about to throw up but was still grinning, turn right around and do the same for my 112 lb wife, and then go charm a 70 year old grandmother into doing dumbbell presses on a balance ball; but, alas, he moved to Seattle and left me floundering. When I had Andy scheduled every week, I knew I'd get to the gym for at least that period of time. I've tried other trainers, but it just hasn't been the same. Couple that with increasing my mileage for the Goofy, and I just didn't have time to get to the gym while it was open. I increasingly found myself working out really late at night, or at the hospital while I was on call. I needed a portable Andy I could take with me anywhere. And I came pretty close to finding it in Fitdeck.





Conceptually, Fitdecks are pretty simple. They're basically a deck of cards with instructions for a bunch of different exercises written on them. Rather than suits, they're divided up by the different parts of the body that the movement works out (upper body, lower body, core, whole body, etc). They also dictate a number of reps to do based on whether you want a beginner, intermediate, or advanced work out. I'd seen them in a magazine, and thought it sounded like a good concept, but really hadn't looked in to it. Then, browsing trough the app store on my ipod one day, I ran into Fitdeck.
I downloaded it, and it was unbelievable - here was a bunch of body weight based exercises I could literally take and do anywhere - and just as importantly, it provided variety. With 50 different exercises, a quick shuffle resulted in a different set of exercises every day! All I had to do was hit a button, select the number of cards I wanted, and work out.
Given that there are certain places you just don't want to leave an ipod (say, left in a call bag in an unsecured room or in a drawer at the office), I also quickly obtained the traditional deck of cards "analog" version as well. If anything these proved more versatile. Say you want a quick work out, shuffle, deal out 10 cards, do them. Say you just ran 15 miles yesterday - pull out the lower body exercises, shuffle, and go. Want a full body ache the next day kind of thing? Do the deck. They're great! (as an aside, the ipod version is undergoing a complete rebuild, and I'm lucky enough to be beta testing the current product. It's going to be superb!)
I've slowly added more and more Fitdecks to my arsenal - the first thing I did was buy my 67ish year old parents the Fitdeck Senior version - which are thoughtfully about twice the size of the regular cards so that the presbyopic don't have to use reading glasses to see them. Next I added the Combat Sports deck, which provided a whole new series of for the most part whole body exercises.
Body weight exercises are great for travel and times you can't get to the gym, but I have yet to see one that can really provide a good biceps workout. Recognizing that limitation, I also acquired the dumbbell deck. No surprise, not only did it give me a great arm work out, but challenged my legs and core!
The other cool thing about these is that they can be used alone or in combination. I've mixed the combat sports in with my original deck, and add the dumbbells or subtract them simply based on whether I have access to weights or not. Constant variety keeps one from getting bored!
My children loved my original deck, so I bought the Fitdeck junior set for them. They fight over who it really belongs to and frequently pull it out to "train" each other. I have to say, I've done it with them, and it's fun - completely different exercises from the adult version. I also grabbed the trx version (which I'll review with the trx at a later date) and the Navy Seal workout. The later, as you might well expect, isn't for the novice - I find it rather challenging and tend to do it on its own.





In short, I love these things. They're inexpensive, versatile, and effective. With versions like stairs, prenatal, stroller, office, and travel, they have something for everyone. I even entertained getting them as Christmas presents for all my co-workers, but my wife convinced me that not everyone might think they are as cool as I do, and some folks might take it as an insult (ie "are you implying that I need to exercise more"). That's not at all why I would be giving them (I just think they're cool), but she's usually more socially adept than I am, so I took her word for it. I still think they're a perfect gift for the right person! In short, these things are a great, fun tool for staying in shape.

The Dreadmill Chronicle...

To give a bit of background information, I used to be a treadmill guy. I used to espouse the benefit of being able to watch TV for an entire run, the utility of never being more than 25 feet from a bathroom, the beauty of knowing exactly how many miles per hour you are running and wisdom of knowing exactly how fast you were going at all times (as an aside, I've figured out that easiest way to tell an outside runner from a treadmill runner is how they report their speed - mph = treadmill, X minute miles = outside). My wife always scoffed at this, and I have to say she was right. I only hit the treadmill now when I have no other alternative. Lately, the treadmill has been fighting back.
I have to work this weekend, so my usual running schedule is thrown a bit off. I can either run very early or very late. I awoke around 4 AM this morning to the sound of driving rain pelting my bedroom windows, and knowing that the temperature was in the mid-thirties, I resolved to sleep for a while and then run in the afternoon. I subsequently tossed and turned for a few hours, and finally decided to get up and go hop on the treadmill for a quick three mile run.
This would seem like a reasonable plan, except for the fact that apparently a poltergeist now inhabits the dreadmill lurking in my garage. It hates me. Perhaps it loathes me. It is the Moriarty to my Holmes, the Luke Skywalker to my Darth Vader, the Newman to my Seinfeld, the Dr. Doofenschmirtz to my Perry the Platypus. It hasn't always been this way, we've spent long hours together, me plodding along, watching a movie on the minuscule flat screen dvd player/tv combo (bought from a pawn shop that happens to sell things on ebay), it humming just loud enough to drown out the players pathetic auditory system, integrated fans pointed at my face and just barely moving enough air for me know they were on... We were happy. It's still that way for my wife. She turns on the treadmill, and it does what she asks. She can run as fast as she wants for as long as she wants. Me, not so much.
Somehow, over the last few months, any attempt I make to run on the treadmill results in a blown circuit breaker. The first time it happened (just before Christmas), it took me quite some time and many trips to the breaker box to figure out what happened. It seems that not only is the circuit attached to the box, but also to a ground fault indicator outlet on the far side of the garage. This would appear to be the culprit. I do not know what my treadmill is suddenly drawing enough power to blow a fuse, but regardless of why, it drove me into a rage at 5:50AM. As I walked back in to my pre-dawn house, I vowed that the dreadmill would not win the day. I would run before sundown.
So I did. I pulled on my stocking cap and my Sugoi Zap jacket and my Newtons and I took off outside. It's 27 degrees today, and precipitating. And it felt great. I've gotten enough used to my Newton Gravitas that they are no longer a novelty, but I'm still running faster than I was in other shoes. I feel like a running light bulb has come on when I wear them. My Sugoi Zap jacket never ceases to amaze me. I was impervious to the worst old man winter could throw at me. Freezing rain and snow bounced off it like ping pong balls. Wind gusts hard enough to make me duck my head failed to penetrate it at all. Despite it's light weight, I actually had to unzip it a little ways, because I got a bit warm. In short, I ran through the sleet and snow and enjoyed it tremendously (as an aside, when running or driving through snow, I always feel like I'm getting ready to go into hyperspace, it makes me feel fast). Feeling like I could win a land war in Asia as I crossed over the threshold into my garage, I glared at the treadmill and silently thanked it for giving me the opportunity to run in the weather. I think it blinked. Mu.

The Goofy, Part 2

It is appropriate to start this second part of my Goofy blog with a quote from the classic Bill Murray film Groundhog Day - "When Chekhov saw the long winter, he saw a winter bleak and dark and bereft of hope. Yet we know that winter is just another step in the cycle of life. But standing here among the people of Punxsutawney and basking in the warmth of their hearths and hearts, I couldn't imagine a better fate than a long and lustrous winter." Why do I choose this quote? Because to some extent, I felt like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day. I woke up at 2:50 AM. I ate the same stuff as the day before (though I was too sick of food court peanut butter to eat my midnight peanut butter sandwich). I put on remarkably similar clothes to the day before, down to the throw away flannel shirt, pants, and tyvek painters' coveralls. And then we went out into the cold.

But that's where it ended. Brand new day. It was actually colder for the marathon than the half marathon, somewhere around 25 degrees according to several major news services. It was also, however, not precipitating in any way, shape, or form as we stood in line for the bus. {OK, the bus ride was remarkably similar, and the same Disney volunteer welcomed us to "Disney Alaska", but that was the last Groundhog Day thing - it also provided an easy way to tell the Punxsutawneyish marathon folk (amused by it) from the Chekhovian Goofy folk (less than amused)}. Baggage check was much faster that day, and people seemed to be in very good mood overall. Rather than focusing on the cattle-shoot aspect of the walk to the start, I took a bodily inventory of how I felt after the half, and was remarkably pleased to find that I had no aches or pains anywhere. My leg muscles felt the least bit "not fresh", for lack of a better way to describe it, but not really fatigued.

Approaching the start, we took the obligatory trip to the porta-potties, where, incidentally, I learned that one could shove an entire space blanket down one pants leg of tyvek coveralls and the top half of suit down the other in order to keep them off the floor of said porta-potty. My wife did not think of this, and we ended up ripping the sodden arms off her coveralls, leaving her looking a bit like Ralph Macchio in the Karate Kid.

Getting into the corral required some effort, as we had to show our numbers to the volunteer. Mine was pinned to my shorts - under the coveralls and flannel shirt and pants - so required yoga and contorting. In case you are wondering, before a race, clear and colder is better than sleeting and marginally warmer, but we still waited a bit too long to shed our outer accouterments, and so ended up in the far back of the corral after everyone had pressed up to the starting line.

Before long the fireworks lept skyward, and we were off. It ended up taking us about four and half minutes to actually cross the line, but hey, this race is a marathon, not a sprint (which I cleverly worked into the blog as a non-euphemism). The first couple of miles were spent in a huge crowd of humanity. Around mile one, there was an oddly-placed water stop that everybody cruised through, but otherwise the stretch was mostly devoid of ornamentation. Which is not to say there was nothing to look at.

I don't think there was a person at the race who didn't have either a space blanket or a trash bag wrapped around their person at the start. Most discarded them before they started running, but a freezing few held on to them for the first couple of miles only to discard them along the rout. I have no idea whether people dropped them in the middle of the race course or if they threw them to the side only to have the fairly brisk wind catch them and blow them back on to the course, but a forest of mylar and plastic jellyfish soon formed across the road way. They blew about like tumbleweeds a ghost town, wrapping themselves around unwary runners feet. I was sure somebody would trip and fall, but if they did, I didn't see it. What I did observe was the a phenomenon similar to walking out of a bathroom trailing toilet paper stuck to one's shoe. Various runners trailed myler strips for what seemed like half a mile or more, making a distinctive step-crackle sound as they ran, and hoping in vane that the mylar would auto-disentangle (it didn't).

Mile three or so saw us entering and leaving the back side of the World Showcase in Epcot. The coolest thing about this was a broadcast on the globe used in the Illuminations show that closes Epcot each day. No fireworks, but a lot of flashing colors. Soon after, we cruised out of Epcot and joined the folks who had started on the other side of the road - the course would be the same from here on out. It was Deja vu all over again as we jogged effectively back through the starting gate at mile four, and the a little bit later that early water stop made sense as we jogged past it around mile four and a half. It was here that we got our first taste of an unexpected race phenomenon for me - that of the powerade slush. It was actually cold enough that the water and sports drinks at the water stops were partially freezing in their cups, making basically an icee.

Between mile 5 and mile 9, not much usually goes on in this race, with the exception of the mild novelty of passing by the Disney World Speedway. Today, I learned two things: 1. Powerade, when spilled on asphalt in sub-freezing temperatures, does not seem to freeze, and 2.Water, when spilled on asphalt in sub-freezing temperature turns into a slick patch of black ice almost immediately. As runners dropped their partially full cups of H2O, the fan-shaped spillage quickly turned into so many banana peels that the water stops suddenly became one large frictionless bearing. Not exactly fun, but it was entertaining and made the miles go faster.

Miles ten to eleven incorporate the Magic Kingdom on a path identical to that of the half marathon. We stopped to take a few pictures along the way and just generally enjoyed the ambiance. After winding our way through the Fantasyland into Frontierland, we rounded corner to find one of Magic Kingdom's steam locomotives facing us, headlight shining straight at us in the dim morning sun, in a classic incoming train pose. I prefer to think of this as an homage to the late Mr Toad's Wild Ride attraction.

Miles 11 through about 15 are usually fairly dull, only adorned by the Disney water treatment plant, but this year there were a number of witticisms and statistics mounted on the side of the road for our viewing pleasure (the only one I remember was the one that stated "One third of New York City public school teachers send their kids to private school) Not too much later, we hit the very enthusiastic, and very appreciated, accordion club of central Florida, who were cranking out oompah hits with zeal and gusto despite the early hour and the cold. We also had our picture taken with a random reindeer placed strategically on the course.

In the It's a small world category, around this time, in a supposedly over 20,000 person race, we ran in to a friend of my wife's from home. She was running about the same pace that we were and we were glad to have her join us for the remainder of the race.

One enters the rear of Animal Kingdom about mile 15. Just prior to this, we ran into an Air Force Cadet carrying a thirty pound ruck sack on his back and running the marathon. I thanked him for his service, and I hope he did well over the last 11 miles. The course through Animal Kingdom takes you in the back side, around the Tree of Life, skirts Expedition Everest, and out through Dinoland into the AK parking lot.

Enter the least interesting part of the race. The next five mile give you very little to see, and even incorporate a small version of that most dreaded of marathon routes, the out-and-back. Around mile twenty, at the start of said out and back, my joints were starting to bother me a little bit, so I ran ahead of my wife and her friend to a med tent to apply some biofreeze to my knees. I stopped and waited for them to catch up. And waited. And waited. Finally, I saw them coming back towards me on the opposite side of the out-and-back. I had to double time it to catch up with them, which, admittedly, took a fair amount out of me 33 miles into this event. To make matters worse, next up was another one of the overpass/slanted hills climbs - not as bad as the one on the half, but still painful. I didn't really care though, because I knew that Disney's Hollywood Studio was just around the corner.

I have found that at this point in the race, the Tower of Terror actually serves as a beacon, pulling you towards it. When I see it, I know that there is only about a 5k left. A cadre of volunteers pelted us with Hershey's Miniatures as we entered the Hollywood Studios (most of Hershey's Dark Chocolate was thrown back). By this time, crowds were in the park, and a throng of people cheered us through the Streets of America, around the Sorcerer's Hat, and down Hollywood Boulevard. From here, it's a short run behind Disney's Boardwalk to the back of Epcot.

The World Showcase is a great distraction for the last mile or so of the Disney Marathon, and photo-ops abound. Marathoner's lined up to take pictures with Snow White, Aladdin and Jasmine, Winnie the Pooh, etc. We just wanted to be finished, though, so we ran straight through, jet setting from France to Morocco to Japan to America to Europe to China to Norway and finally back to Mexico in a mater of minutes before veering out the side gate, and past the same, much dryer, much less cold, gospel choir that is always placed right before the finish.

I usually cross the finish line thinking about my race time, and I'm fairly critical of the race I've run. This time, I really felt like I had accomplished something as a volunteer girded me with my medal and shunted me towards the Goofy tent. Granted I'm no athlete, but the little old lady who placed the (friggin heavy, by the way) Goofy Medal around my neck capped my physical fitness career to this point. I'm actually more proud of finishing this race and a half than any of my PRs. I started this blog with a Chekhov allusion, and I'm going to end it with an Anton Chekhov quote, "One usually dislikes a play while writing it, but afterward it grows on one." I think the Goofy is the same, you hate training for it, it's hard to run, but afterward, it's quite a tale. Mu.