Whether you think “Team USA” is shorthand for overbearing and jingoistic national pride, or find yourself cheering on every American athlete with unquestioning patriotic fervor, the news from Oregon has likely intensified your feeling. That’s because no country has ever dominated an IAAF Championship Meet like the U.S. just dominated the Indoor World Championships, hosted over the last four days on the Emerald Oval at the Portland, Oregon, Convention Center. Continue reading
Many years ago, on a clear and brisk Saturday in October, I was scampering through a forest not far from Boston, alertly watching for roots, rocks, and downed branches. On that glorious morning long ago, I was confident in my speed and strength, and believed I was as fast as anyone else in the race. In one hand I held a map with a route and individual destinations marked in red ink. This wasn’t my first time orienteering, so I was pushing harder than the last meet, zipping this way and that as I navigated through the woods. In front of me was a steep hill, and I charged up it. As I did so, automatically, my world narrowed until there was only one thing on my mind — getting to the top of that hill. Continue reading
“War is the realm of uncertainty; three quarters of the factors on which action in war is based are wrapped in a fog of greater or lesser uncertainty. A sensitive and discriminating judgment is called for; a skilled intelligence to scent out the truth.” – Von Clausewitz, On War
If the IAAF, WADA, and national organizations are now fighting a war on drugs — that is, a war on performance-enhancing drugs — I fear that, like actual wars, it is doomed to be wrapped in a fog of greater or lesser uncertainty. In other words, if we are hoping for bright lines and easily identified good guys and bad guys, we are likely to find our hopes repeatedly frustrated. As much as we’d like summary judgments, it’s going to be complicated and uncomfortable to separate the innocent from the guilty. Continue reading
It was an extraordinary last few days for Indoor Track and Field in the United States. In New York City from Friday to Sunday the Armory hosted the New Balance National Indoors, a national championship meet for high schoolers that produced 10 new national records, and 5 class records. In the college ranks, Birmingham (Alabama) hosted the NCAA Div I Indoor Championships, about which more later. I should mention that the NCAA Div II and Div III Championships were also taking place over roughly the same time period in Kansas and Iowa, respectively. I know this because a former student of mine placed fifth in the triple jump in the Div III Championships to become Concord Academy’s first All-American for Track and Field. If all this scholastic and college action weren’t exciting enough, the USATF National Championships (and team trials for the World Championships) were happening in Portland, Oregon. Continue reading
The USATF New England Grand Prix Series got underway Sunday, as a thousand runners descended on the neighborhood between Central Square and MIT in Cambridge for the 9:30 a.m. start of the An Ras Mor 5k.
In 2015, An Ras Mor (The Great Race) had not been part of the USATF-NE championship series, but had instead been the first race in the New England Runner Pub Series. As a humble pub race, it had still attracted over 600 runners, and the times weren’t too shabby, either. David Wilson had won in 15:29, dipping below 5:00 mile pace, and 33 other runners had run 6:00 pace or better. As a New England Championship for 2016, however, the race was a lot faster and a lot deeper. Louis Serafini won in 14:44, one of 31 runners who bettered Wilson’s time from the previous year. And 6:00 pace? That would get have gotten you only 220th on Sunday.
While the fast times were no doubt the result of a much faster field, they were perhaps aided by near-perfect conditions for early March, with temperatures in the mid-30s and little wind. It was a stark contrast to 2015, which, in spite of being two weeks later on the calendar, had been bitterly cold and windy, making it nearly impossible to get or stay warm. By contrast, the weather on Sunday was downright pleasant, and encouraged extended post-race yakking with teammates and a leisurely cool-down out to the river and back.
I was very proud of my CSU teammates, who showed up in force and ran races that demonstrated the benefits of all the long runs and track workouts done over the winter. Top CSU finisher was Patrick, who PR’d in 16:14, a time that would have placed him 4th in 2015 but earned him 63rd in 2016. Patrick, in the midst of preparation for a marathon, had allowed himself the luxury of a couple of easy days, and felt fresh for the race. Or, as he described it on our cool-down run, had woken up that morning free of the perpetual fatigue and soreness in his feet and legs that accompanies his hundred-mile weeks.
Amory also PR’d, while winning the master’s women’s division, no mean accomplishment on the highly competitive USATF-NE circuit. Her official time of 17:40 was 45 seconds faster than in 2015.
The ageless (well, actually he’s 67) Gordon ran 19:43 to place third in the 60+ age group. Gordon and the other seniors are among those superb age-group runners who are “hidden in plain sight” at these championship events. Buried deep in the pack, they nevertheless submit performances that rise so far above the ordinary that it’s a shame they are nearly invisible among all the younger runners. Top runner among the sixty-plus set was Vermont’s Bill Dixon who, at age 68, ran 18:53. My handy age-grading calculator tells me that’s the “equivalent” of an open athlete running 14:07, or 37 seconds faster than the winner. Mercy!
One of the really enjoyable things about these early season races is the social aspect. Specifically, the race is a chance to reconnect with other runners you haven’t seen since the fall and see who has made it through the winter relatively unscathed and who is a hurting puppy. Actually, most of us (in my age group anyway) are hurting puppies in one way or another, but sharing our complaints isn’t as negative as it sounds. The reason is that if we’ve actually made it to the race at all, things aren’t so bad, certainly not as bad as they could be. Most of us are slower than we want to be, but at least we’re here, at the start of the season, and the running will only get easier as spring takes hold, right?
My own race definitely fell into the “happy to be here at all” category. Not having toed a starting line for several months, I mistimed everything about the morning, and ended up with absolutely no time to spare for my warm-up and pre-race routine. I managed to forget gear, arrive late to the race, park illegally (paying off the ticket will make the race entry fee a little higher for me), and leave myself too little time for the dynamic drills that I perform with all the fervor of a religious rite before every race and workout. It’s a wonder I didn’t miss the start, but I made it. Unfortunately, I also ended up far back in the crowd, and spent the first fifteen seconds of the race walking to the start line. After that, it took another quarter mile or so to break from a slow jog and start running, but whatever. I was happy to be there, and the rest of the race went fine. In the end, I was only seven seconds slower than my time from 2015, and maybe all of that and more could be blamed on the slow start.
The one thing that did not tempt me was the beer. It was obviously popular, as the lines for the free drinks were long at post-race headquarters. But I just didn’t see how standing in that line and quaffing my complementary beverage at 10:00 a.m. on a Sunday morning was going to increase my satisfaction at having survived this first test of the new racing season. No, not matter how sunny and spring-like it felt, and no matter how many optimistic feelings had been stirred, I knew I’d be better off heading home and returning, unimpaired (or unaided, depending on your point of view), to the chores and routines of a normal Sunday. The two tickets for free suds attached to my number remained there, where they belonged.
The day and the season were young. I had to pace myself.
Illustration: http://archive.itvs.org/footrace
[This is an updated version of a post originally published March 4, 2008]
On March 4th, 1928, 88 years ago today, 199 men — including some of the most accomplished runners and walkers of the era — set out by foot from the Legion Ascot Speedway in Los Angeles bound for New York City, a distance of 3422 miles to be covered over the course of 84 days. Continue reading
No doubt you’ve known people who are slaves to their running logs. You can always tell who they are, because they’re the ones who finish a run and then make two more trips up and down the street, or another circuit of the parking lot to make sure they can write down a round number in their log with a clean conscience. OK, I admit it; I’m one of those people. Continue reading
Chart: Boston Globe 2/29/16
Every weekday before I head off to work, I go through the ritual of checking the weather forecast and then stuffing my backpack with running clothes that I’ll need (or think I’ll need) for my afternoon run. At this time of year, the backpack is usually bulging with gear: the basic shorts, shirts, shoes, and socks plus an assortment of “extras’ — extra-warm tights, fleece vest, windbreaker, warm hat, a second pair of gloves. In addition to clothing, I pack chapstick and a special cloth tape that I use to bandage up my fingers and toes, which tend to crack and bleed when the temperature drops much below freezing.
But when I left for work this morning, my backpack felt light on my shoulders. What was the point of packing extra gear? Even the long sleeve shirt seemed superfluous. And instead of chapstick, I had actually considered throwing some suncreen into the bag. All of which prompts the question, what the heck happened to February? Continue reading
Photo credit: LetsRun.com
Did Drew Hunter just blow up high school middle distance running in the U.S.? Continue reading
I guess most dads try to pass on life lessons to their kids. In the case of my dad, I don’t remember him lecturing us much, but I do remember many stories, jokes, and off-hand observations that contained a wealth of wisdom about the world. A surprising number of these I associate with sailing.
My dad loved to sail. He had learned seamanship as a boy during summer vacations spent on the coast of Maine, and he made sure that we learned it the same way. The thing is that after hours preparing the boat and getting underway, sailing gives you an awful lot of time for musing on winds, tides, history, politics, and all the other fickle powers that rule our lives. Continue reading
the runner eclectic 