Chris Lundstrom 's Journal

February 28, 2008 Entry (Posted February 29, 2008)

Lately, a lot of people have been asking me if I’m running the Boston Marathon this spring, assuming that the answer will be yes. I have done it three years in a row, after all, and it is a very favorite race of mine. But I have to respond that no, I am not running Boston, but instead focusing on track racing this spring.

I have gotten some funny looks just from that response. Chris “the race doesn’t start until 20 miles” Lundstrom, running on the track? Matters only get worse when I tell them I’m going to focus on the steeplechase. The grizzled marathoner, leaping over barriers and water jumps?

Indeed, sometimes I feel a little like Don Quixote, the foolish, delusional old man who, after reading one too many stories of knightly chivalry, embarks on a quest and faces impossible obstacles largely of his own imagining. In my case, the stories of knightly chivalry equate to the storied history of the U.S. Olympic Track & Field Trials.

I have run two Olympic Trials Marathons, yet there is something different and inspiring about the track trials that makes me want to be there and be a part of it. Take the same caliber of athletes, except cut out the bottom three-fourths of the field. Then, put everyone out on a small oval where all of the hype, scrutiny, and general track and field mayhem can be distilled to its purist form.

I guess it’s fair to assume that if you’re reading this, you don’t need to be sold on the excitement of the sport. But still, you may be saying, the steeplechase? Really? Why not the 10,000? What it comes down to for me is that you have to do what excites you. Am I excited about running 25 laps on the track? Not really.

For whatever reason, I am excited about 35 barriers, including 7 water jumps, and a race that lasts (hopefully) less than 9 minutes, and where anything can – and often does – happen. I really enjoy the challenge presented by the barriers – the tactics of attempting to hurdle while running in a pack, and the sheer mental and physical difficulty of hurdling while lactic acid courses through your veins. I also like the 3000-meter distance.

As Coach Dennis Barker likes to remind me, I have run 8:03 for the 3K, which is probably a stronger PR than my 5K or 10K, and probably even better than my marathon. Of course I have apprehensions. I have only run the steeplechase three times in my last collegiate track season. That was about 10 years ago for those of you keeping score at home. I ran 9:29, then 9:18, then 9:08.

Since then, I have thought of doing it again just about every year but it has always seemed like a tough thing to try and fit in with the various road races and other things that I had going on. I have continued to go over a few hurdles when the opportunity presents itself, just for kicks, and I’ve been doing some hurdle drills over the winter to ready myself for the spring.

Just this evening, I received a great boost of confidence. Bruce Mortenson, a member of the Team USA Minnesota board, looked at me and said, “Steeplechase? Yeah, I can see it. It’s a state of mind more than anything.” During his collegiate career at the University of Oregon, Bruce was an NCAA champion in – you guessed it – the steeplechase. He also turned out to be an exceptional marathoner.

January 9, 2008 Entry (Posted January 10, 2008)

It has been a slow process of getting back pointed in the right direction with my training. I took some down time in November, and in December I managed to get both the flu and a bad cold. On top of that, my garage burned down while I was out running one day.

I had an ominous feeling when I heard the sirens and saw the smoke rising as I ran back into the neighborhood. I skipped the two mile add-on that I planned and headed toward home. As I got closer, I realized that the fire was on my block. When I turned onto my street, I could see the trucks stopping at my end of the block. When I got home, I saw the ball of fire in my neighbor’s garage, which is where the fire started. I walked around to the far side of my house in time to see the fire-fighters taking axes to the doors and windows of my garage. Thick, black smoke rolled out and I had to turn and get away just to breathe.

I called my wife and all I could say was, “Our garage is on fire.” Luckily, we did not have a lot of valuable stuff inside, and the fire was contained effectively and did not spread to anyone’s home. No one was hurt. The dogs were inside at the time, so they were safe as well. Anyway, as a teacher and coach, I usually have a little more free time in the summer. This summer, it looks like I’ll be working on a new garage.

On the running front…

With the New Year, I’m shifting focus a little bit. After running three marathons last year, Coach Dennis Barker and I have decided that it makes sense to focus on track racing for the next few months. Part of me really wants to go and run the Boston Marathon again, because I really love that race and I am a marathoner at heart.

However, I’ve been focused on the marathon year after year for a while now, and my legs could really benefit from a break from the long, grinding stuff. The hope is that a track season will ultimately benefit my marathon career as well.

Plus, I’m starting to get really excited about running fast. My goal is to qualify for and compete well in the Olympic Trials for track. I’d like to compete at a variety of distances (5K, 10K, steeple, mile) this spring, and better some of my track PRs, which date back to 2002, which is the last time I placed any emphasis on track.

I plan to run XC Nationals in San Diego in February as an early test of fitness, and then continue to build from there. The whole team has stayed in Minnesota this winter (unlike last winter, when it seemed like I was the only one around), so I have plenty of training partners to whip me into shape. Several of the guys are in excellent shape, so I’m very excited to see what they can do this spring.

December 6, 2007 Entry (Posted December 7, 2007)

Thoughts on the 2008 US Olympic Team Trials – Men’s Marathon.

First things first. Ryan Shay.

Ryan Shay will be remembered by his friends and family for his warmer attributes, but I think many of us who competed against him will mainly remember his toughness. He was the kind of guy you almost dreaded catching in the late stages of a race, because you knew he would fight you hard all the way to the end. I rarely beat Ryan; he needed to have an off day for that to happen. On several occasions, I warmed up with him, cooled down with him, or ran with him the day before or after a race. Tough as he was on the course, I remember how quickly that intensity could break into a smile or a laugh. His passion for the sport – and for life – were obvious. Everyone who knew him feels the loss, but I can only imagine what his family must be feeling.

Needless to say, the weekend of the Trials turned out differently than everyone expected. However, the race itself was why everyone came – and why Ryan came. And it was a race that certainly lived up to its hype.

The crowds out on the course were loud and enthusiastic, and the atmosphere at the starting line had an intensity that I can’t remember feeling at a marathon start ever before. I think there was a sense that no one knew what was going to happen. The talent assembled, the difficulty of the course, and the scrutiny of the big stage in New York all contributed to this.

For myself, I knew I could have a great race and still fall well short of those coveted top three spots. At the same time, I focused on doing whatever I could do on that particular day. It turned out to be something of a tough day for me, though not a disaster. My legs felt sort of rough through the first ten miles. So I found myself running a more conservative race than I planned. Maybe running three marathons in a little over six months was too much for me; maybe it just wasn’t a great day. But I stayed within myself, and rallied over the last half of the race, moving up very well. I ran negative splits, despite a little stomach issue in the second half.

In the end, I placed 37th out of 134 starters and 104 finishers. My time of 2:19:21 was not bad on that course – certainly within the range of what I thought might happen. I’m really impressed with the efforts of the field. In years past, I believe the same kind of effort would have placed me much higher. It speaks to the great preparation and effort that all the guys put into getting ready for that one day in Central Park.

What I remember from the race is the positive feelings of running with some of the best guys I know. Guys like Matt Hooley and Mike Reneau, who I have raced on the roads of Minnesota. And also, heading up a big pack with one of my training partners, Zach Schendel. It was just like being out on our training loop, feeling good and optimistic about the miles ahead.

Probably the highlight of the day was finishing and having Coach Dennis Barker tell me that Jason Lehmkuhle, my training partner and friend, had finished fifth. Talk about a guy who has worked hard! Jason, Zach, and I drove out to the suburb of Eagan week-after-week to run a hilly 5.67-mile loop (yes, we know EXACTLY how long it is) for our long runs and workouts. Jason had suffered last spring on the hills of Boston, and was determined to be prepared for the hills of Central Park.

Jason stuck with the marathon when doubters said, “Why not focus on the 10K or half- marathon?” He believed in himself, learned from past training errors, and ran an intelligent, controlled race. I’m proud to have trained with him over the past few years. I know that whenever our racing schedules line up in the years to come, I will benefit from working with him.

As for me, I took the rest of November off from serious training. I have been overdue for a good respite from hard training, and it’s refreshing to step back from time to time. There are levels of fatigue that accumulate over the years. You don’t always really realize how much time and energy something takes until you stop doing it. In the past few weeks, I’ve focused on the course I teach at the University of Minnesota, getting the high school Nordic ski season underway, and taking care of things around the house.

But November has come and gone, and I am already missing the intensity of training. I’m beginning to run a little more, a little harder, and starting to think about what the next year may hold. I’m excited for my fellow Team USA MN team members as they prepare for next summer’s track & field Olympic Trials. It’s going to be a great year for U.S. distance running.

October 12, 2007 Entry (Posted October 12, 2007)

About three weeks to go. New York. Central Park. The Trials. It’s going to be incredible – the great runners, 26.2 mile of challenging hills, the roar of spectators and all of the scrutiny and speculation from the media. Distance runners don’t generally experience that. Ours is 99.9% of the time an unglamorous pursuit.

Case in point: Waking up this morning, I feel like hell. There’s no other way to put it. I forget who said it or what the quote is exactly, but it goes something like this: being an elite distance runner means waking up tired and going to sleep even more tired. The stiffness and pain in my legs dissipates after I move around a little. A cup of coffee – usually two to be honest – seems to help as well. Then the sun starts to crack over the horizon and the dogs wake up.

On easy days, the dogs (Hudson, Sierra, and Charlie) are my training partners. Hudson and Charlie only go 2-3 miles, but Sierra can go forever. They recognize my running clothes by that faint locker room scent that never quite seems to come all the way out in the wash. As I start to dress they get up and it’s all tails wagging, pacing back and forth, and nudging me toward the door. Hudson, a Shepherd/Malamute mix who looks more like a wolf than the family pet, utilizes his excellent herding technique to steer me toward the door. Enough coffee, it’s time to run.

I almost forget how tired I am until I start running. On Oct.ober 7, I ran the Medtronic TC 10 Mile, which was the USA 10 Mile Championship this year. Having such a stellar field here in the Twin Cities worked out really well for getting in a quality tune-up effort. I tend to evaluate my pre-marathon performances less on objective measures (time, place) and more on how I felt. I know how I should feel if I’m marathon-ready: strong and steady, and not necessarily very snappy.

That’s exactly how I felt, and my results reflected that - 20th place in a strong field with a time of 50:33. Not as high of a place as I would have hoped and not as fast, but certainly within the range of what I would have expected to do. It was a hot, humid day, on a challenging course. I gave a good effort (though it was maybe not my most inspired race) and I think that I’ll benefit from the run. I came through 3 miles in around 14:40, feeling pretty good. I slowed up on the hills of the West River Parkway and Summit Avenue, but I stayed pretty strong.

The next morning (October 8), I’m looking at another couple of weeks of heavy training. There’s more work to be done, but today has to be a recovery day. I’m not really sore, but I’m generally fatigued. I felt like maybe I didn’t push hard enough at the 10 mile, but this morning I feel worn down anyway. Maybe the heat and humidity can be blamed. Anyway, that weather is gone. It’s cold and drizzly and gray, and maybe that’s why my mind feels so fuzzy and bleak.

In some ways, these “easy days” get to be the most mentally difficult. The monotony of the miles – 10 in the morning, 10 in the afternoon – fit in around my teaching and coaching schedule can be harder to stay motivated for than the tough efforts that more closely simulate the marathon. Workout days and some other days, I meet up with Team USA Minnesota teammate Jason Lehmkuhle and sometimes Zach Schendel, another Trials qualifier. That makes things far easier. I need my alone days too, but it’s harder to get going.

Three miles into the run, I drop off Charlie and Hudson back at home, and head out for the rest of the run with Sierra. The dull ache in my legs persists, and I wonder if my body will hold up through the next couple of weeks. Finally, 5 or 6 miles into the run, I start feeling smooth. My body has finally accepted its chore for the day, and my mind has dislodged itself from the mire of fatigue.

Then I’m out on the Trials course in Central Park, seeing the race that is soon to come, imagining circumstances and outcomes, nudging my body and mind into a higher state of preparedness…a little bit each day. Ultimately, all I want from the Trials race is to hit the finish line knowing I pushed as hard as I possibly could. All the preparation is aimed to that end. Never hanging it all out on the line in the workout, but always edging up against that razor-thin line between quality training and overtraining. I finish every workout knowing I could have gone a little faster or a little longer. Hopefully I’ll finish the Trials knowing I could not possibly have done more than I did.

August 29, 2007 Entry (Posted August 30, 2007)

I’m back home after spending over two weeks in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, for the Pan American Games. I’m glad to be home, though I loved Rio, and had the experience of a lifetime competing there.

Arriving at the athletes’ village after the all-night flight, it hit me what a huge and significant event I was taking part in. The entire village had been constructed for the Pan Am Games, ten or twelve apartment towers whose purpose was to house the thousands of athletes from across the Americas.

It was hot when we got to the village, so hot that we were uncomfortably warm even standing in an air-conditioned room as we waited to get our credentials. The women’s marathon had been run that morning, and I could only imagine how miserable the conditions must have been. Cooler weather arrived a couple of days later, and luckily, it stuck around through the duration of the Games.

I roomed with Jacob Frey, who was the other U.S. athlete in the men’s marathon. We hashed out a race strategy together, planning to run conservatively for the first half of the race, and attempt to pick up lots of places in the second half of the race. Of course, when the race actually starts, plans tend to go out the window. Each athlete has to react to the race environment according to what he or she believes to be the best strategy. So although each of us stuck roughly to our plan, we did not run together except for the first 5K of the race.

The first two miles were quite slow as the field of just 15 appeared reluctant to begin the race. There was a big hill right off the bat, a winding climb up along a road overlooking the ocean. Temps were in the low 60s, a gusty wind swept off the ocean, and rain fell sporadically. Jacob and I were leading the race for a short while, much to our surprise. But the pace was slow, and there was no sense letting it get too slow.

After 5K, the race started. I noticed my splits dropping down under 5:10 per mile pace. I made a tough decision to let go of the pack I was running with, and found myself inauspiciously in 13th place. Jacob stayed with the pack at that point, though he too let them go within the next few miles.

The course cruised along flat roads near the ocean for the next several miles. The roads were surprisingly well-populated with spectators despite the ugly weather. Each athlete had two motorcycle escorts, which insured safe passage. I kept clipping along at my planned pace, hitting 5K splits that were right about where I wanted to be. Still, it was hard not to feel a little discouraged, being in 13th place and no longer in sight of the leaders. I could see Jacob just ahead of me, and tried to narrow the gap to join him.

Around the half marathon point, there was an out and back section, and I was able to see the rest of the field. They were not too far ahead of me, so that motivated me to increase the effort as we moved onto a quieter section of the course. Around 25K, I started to catch people. One of the first was Silvio Guerra, who I had met before the race. He was second at Boston several years ago, and had placed fourth in the ING New York City Marathon in 2001, a race in which I placed 16th in what was a big breakthrough performance at the time. Guerra has struggled in recent years, so I felt bad that his race was not going well.

Over the next 110K, I could see that I was losing ground on Jacob, yet I was picking up the pace, running some of my fastest splits. We were both making up lots of ground on the field, and I felt good moving into the top 10, then ninth, eight, seventh, and finally into sixth place.

After 35K (around 22 miles), my calves started to twitch and quiver as if they were going to cramp. I adjusted my stride a little, and avoided disaster, but my last 5K was slightly slower than I had been running. There was a pretty good headwind from 35-39K, as well as a heavy blast of rain. It was actually quite refreshing at that point in the race, but the wind undoubtedly slowed me a bit.

Nonetheless, I was running strong and hoping to catch another runner or two, and keeping hope alive that perhaps I could sneak up into the top 3 for a medal. Jacob rolled through into fourth place with a personal best of 2:16:44. I remained in sixth, finishing in 2:18:05, not a personal best, but only about 30 seconds off of one. Certainly, I had dreamed of a medal, but I finished feeling really good about the effort. The crowd provided incredible support the whole way, making us runners feel like rock stars, if only for a day.

But the Pan Am Games have come and gone, and that race is history. In less than three months, I’ll be running the Olympic Trials marathon. Five loops around Central Park will determine the 2008 Olympians in the men’s marathon. The top three go to Beijing; the rest go home to ponder what might have been.

The field for the upcoming Trials will be phenomenal. To place in the top 3 will be extremely difficult. Even being in the top 10 or 20 may be a great accomplishment. I try not to worry too much about who else is running and how fast they might run, but rather prepare myself as best as I can for the race, run to the best of my ability on race day, and let the chips fall where they may.

After a couple of recovery weeks, I returned to pretty intense training. I’ve been doing a lot of running with Jason Lehmkuhle, my Team USA Minnesota teammate who will also be running the marathon trials. We’re trying to prepare for Central Park with lots of hilly long runs and tempo work. Ten weeks remain. It will be fun to run the trials in New York, with all of the excitement of the city – the crowds, the energy, and the drama of the race itself. I haven’t been back to New York for the marathon since 2001. I can only hope that this time around, the experience is as positive as last time.

July 15, 2007 Entry (Posted July 19, 2007)

In a week, I’ll be heading for Rio de Janeiro, Brazil to run the Pan Am Games marathon. Training has gone well the last few weeks, after a shaky few weeks in the aftermath of the Boston Marathon. I typically recover quickly from marathons, but Boston beats up the legs more than any other race I have ran. I suppose the cold, rainy conditions this year didn’t help. My muscles were even tighter than usual running those last few downhills in the final miles of the race.

In late April and May, I spent a few weeks focusing on speed, and then in June and July I have been back to marathon-specific training. Long runs, and lots of them. Some at marathon pace, some at various paces, and some just long and easy. Summer in Minnesota always makes for challenging marathon training, due to the heat and humidity, though this one has been tolerable thus far. Having some hot days has been a plus for my preparations for Rio. Even though it is winter there, the race will likely be warmer than ideal. Average lows are 66 degrees and highs are 79. Pretty similar to Minneapolis this time of year, actually.

It has been a while since I have run a hot-weather marathon. Twin Cities in 2005 was in the upper 60s and humid at the start, and I’m trying to remember what that felt like in developing a sensible race plan. Fluids will be key, and as always in the marathon, proper pacing. I have aspirations of placing high, so it will be hard to keep my competitive juices in check over the first half of the race. My USA teammate will be Jacob Frey, and we should be able to work together, so that will definitely help out.

In general, I’m excited and fascinated by the whole national team experience. This will be especially cool because the Pan Am Games is more than just track & field. I’m looking forward to meeting athletes from the other sports and other countries, and watching some sports that I haven’t had a chance to see before. Of course, pulling on the USA uniform will feel pretty good.

I really like the idea of international sporting events as a way of bringing people together in friendly competition. I’ll admit, it’s all about the people for me, the connections made and the experiences shared. The medal count and national pride come a distant second. I’m more in tune with the sense of being connected to all of these other athletes and sharing a common experience, as well as developing an understanding of some of our differences. And of course, taking to the course and racing each other as hard as possible!

My wife Taj will be making the trip down to Rio a few days after me, in time to see the marathon. She’s a resident in the University of Minnesota’s Department of Pediatrics and Medicine, so vacation days are a rarity for her. We’ll be spending a week or so after my race in Rio. All of my friends have been reminding me that a trip to Rio is really a very small reward for her after ten years of putting up with my odd career choice. Indeed, if you’re looking for easy rewards or a carefree lifestyle, you would be a fool to take up elite-level distance running! Luckily for me, her long hours and difficult work schedule help her relate to my regimen, and she continues to tolerate the ever-accumulating mounds of sweaty running clothes in our house, as well as the running shoe graveyard that continues to grow in the basement, despite my efforts at donating or throwing away old pairs.

Of course, this trip will be a reward for me as well. As much as I love to run, there are days when the second 10 mile run of the day has very little appeal, whereas the couch and spacing out to re-runs of Seinfeld look really great. I rarely give in to those urges to slack off, and while there are more talented runners than me out there, I always feel confident in the work that I have put in. It will be very exciting to see how I can stack up against the other marathoners of the Americas.

I’ll be sure to file a complete report when I get back.

May 20, 2007 Entry (Posted May 22, 2007)

It has been a little over a month since the Boston Marathon, and once again, I’m training fairly hard. This was my third Boston, and it seems to always leave my legs fairly trashed. This year’s race was, well, you have probably heard the stories…

Surviving the weather and running only a couple of minutes slower than last year despite the gusting headwinds are a form of success, I suppose. I did not place quite as well as I had hoped, but I was a respectable 17th place, and not that far out of the mix. A strong field and a conservative (actually, a downright pedestrian) early pace made it a strange race. The lead pack took no risks, and thus the late race attrition among the best was lower than usual. The top few guys simply huddled together and waited until the final miles to let the racing begin.

My legs never felt particularly good, but then it was not a day to feel good. It was cold and rainy and windy. I ran hard and moved up well in the final miles. Sometimes you just have to accept the effort of the day and the memory of the struggle as its own reward. My wife Taj made the trip to Boston for the first time, and we visited her brother Nigel, who is a freshman at Boston University. We also went to a roller-derby bout of the “Boston Massacre” and that was definitely a memorable highlight of the trip.

The Pan-Am Games Marathon is next on the schedule, and it is a mere 10 weeks away. Training well requires so many things to be working in unison. Mastering the physical side alone is tricky enough. Add to that the mental and emotional side, to say nothing of the logistics of actually getting things done, and you start to see how tenuous optimal training actually is.

After Boston, I took a week completely off from training, but then began to re-boot more aggressively than I typically do. Workouts have been a struggle, but my legs seem to be coming around, and I’m slowly beginning to find that elusive training groove. My head is in it now, and my body is grudgingly coming to terms with the rigors.

Track season is nearing the close, so my mental energy is largely focused on coaching the distance runners of Como Park High School. Watching them strive and push their limits inspires greater efforts in my own training. Some people have suggested to me that coaching is incompatible with serious training, that it detracts in some way from one’s own focus as an athlete. While I agree that there are times when it can present a challenge (early morning practices and returning late from meets), on the whole I find that coaching re-invigorates my own training. My efforts are given more meaning in the context of serving as a role model for high school athletes.

Being selected for the Pan-Am Games team was a real thrill. This will be my first U.S. team, and only my second international competition, so it’s definitely a huge step in my running career. I’m excited to go to Rio, to compete against many of the best marathoners of the Americas, and to participate in such a prestigious event.

On my 23 mile run this morning, it started to dawn on me just how significant this is, that it is not just the result of a good race last fall at the Twin Cities Marathon, but rather it is the culmination of all the years of hard work, of all the races that went well and all of those that went poorly, but taught me something I needed to learn. Someday, I’m going to add up all the miles that I have run. Until then, I’ll just keep piling them up, day after day. As my own high school coach, Pat Foley, used to say, “put your left foot in front of your right foot and then your right foot in front of your left…” That’s the goal and aim of the distance runner, to always keep moving forward. Ten weeks to go until Rio, and then another 3 months to the Olympic Trials Marathon in New York. Lots to look forward to, and lots to be excited about. Lots of miles to run.

March 14, 2007 Entry (Posted March 16, 2007)

March has arrived and winter shows every intention of departing. The sun is out, and people are running around in T-shirts. As for me, I’m still keeping my tights, long-sleeve shirts, and weather-proof jackets close at hand. After all, we have been hit by two major snowstorms just in the last couple of weeks.

On the whole, it has been a pretty good winter for training. It was actually great up through mid-January. Then there were a couple of rough cold snaps. But hey, you dress well, smear some Vaseline on your face, and you’re all set.

In fact, there’s something very satisfying about hammering a 20 miler on a day when the wind chill gets no higher than -15. On days like that, I think about the “old school” guys – the Beardsleys – doing hill repeats in the snow, saying to themselves, “Nobody is tougher than me!”

Normally, I love to run and am rarely at a loss for motivation. But a few of those days put me to the test. I found myself imagining the Boston Marathon, going over the course in my head. Mental preparation, I guess, but really I just needed to think about something other than the cold wind in my face.

Despite the recent snowstorms, training has been going very well. The week of February 26-March 4 stands out in my mind. Monday, I worked out with Jason, Andrew, and Matt on the indoor track at the University of Minnesota. It was my first track workout with those guys since they returned from winter training in Flagstaff. I was largely on my own in January and February, through the heart of my preparations for the Boston Marathon. It felt great to have the teammates back. They definitely pushed me outside my comfort zone, and made the workout much better than I could have done on my own. We did about 5 miles of hard intervals, which is a lot of laps around a 200 meter track. Everyone looked really strong, and for me, it was a rare workout where I surpassed my own expectations.

That Thursday, Jason and I were scheduled for a marathon simulation workout. That was about the worst day of the snowstorm, though, so it ended up being a treadmill day. I got a good hard long run on the treadmill, with some pick-ups and throwing in some hills at the end to simulate the Boston Marathon course. I did a good portion of the run right on my goal pace, which is encouraging. Also, there has to be a mental benefit to enduring the monotony of nearly two hours on the treadmill. That’s what I tried to tell myself during the run anyway.

I’m racing three weekends in a row in March. I ran the Gate River Run (the USA 15K Championships) in Jacksonville, FL last weekend. This weekend is the USA 8K Championship in New York, and then the following weekend I’m running the ING Half- Marathon in Atlanta. Prior to this stretch, my only race since last fall was the USA Half- Marathon Championships in Houston in mid-January. I narrowly missed a PR there.

Again at the 15K, I missed a PR by a few seconds. Of course that’s slightly disappointing, but I felt very strong in both races, and am pleased at running well at the shorter distances in the midst of marathon preparation.

Some people don’t like to race during marathon training, but I feel that racing definitely has a place, and can be very beneficial. If nothing else, the prospect of an upcoming race helps me avoid the chronic overtraining to which I am sometimes prone. Plus, if I’m relatively comfortable at 4:57 pace (my 15K pace), then running 10 seconds per mile slower than that feels pretty easy.

On the whole, it’s been a fun winter. Every year is a little different, and I try to experiment a little bit with each new marathon training phase. This winter, I cross country skied quite a bit. I coach a high school team, so I was out on the snow most days.

I’ve also been more aggressive in attempting to simulate the challenges of the early down hills of the Boston course. That has led to such dubious ventures as propping up the back end of a treadmill in my friend’s basement, as well as throwing fast downhill accelerations into the middle of training runs. Occasionally, you hit an icy patch, but thus far I’ve been lucky enough to stay on my feet.

October 23, 2006 Entry (Posted October 25, 2006)

The focus of my summer training – the Medtronic Twin Cities Marathon on October 1 – has come and gone. I surpassed my PR in the marathon, set nearly five years ago at the ING New York City Marathon. Needless to say, this was a relief and very gratifying for me. I had a long string of rough marathons, and I’m quite happy to have run two quality marathons this year.

I do believe I can run significantly faster than 2:17, but I really put my focus on running that PR this year, and now I feel that I can move forward with trying to bring down the time, as well as continuing to compete well at the distance.

I won’t go into too great of detail about my race, as I have already chronicled it for the pages of Running Times and Minnesota Running & Track. I will say that I ran a conservative, patient race, and negative-splitted my way to a fourth place in the USA Marathon Championships. I would like to thank my good friends and family (who believe in me and tolerate my 20-mile-a-day training habit), as well as the incredible running community in the Twin Cities – from the Team USA Minnesota training group to the runners from the high school team that I coach to the MTCM race officials and volunteers to the many friendly faces that are out running and racing week-after-week and year-after-year.

Typically, I don’t run very much in the weeks after a marathon. I take a few days off. I pretend like I’m going to swim or ride the bike, but instead lounge around in a stupor watching re-runs of Saturday Night Live and trying to shake myself out of that torpid state by drinking more coffee than Andrew Carlson could ever dream of consuming. I did take a couple of days off after this marathon, but I was itching to get back out on the roads within a few days.

More significantly, my dogs were demanding their daily run, and once I got out there, it actually felt pretty good. I think the strength training I’ve been doing at Discover Strength keeps me healthier and able to recover much faster. Plus, I ran a conservative race and had good, strong form all the way to the finish, so my joints didn’t take the beating that they normally do.

With the preoccupations of the marathon behind me, I’ve been able to enjoy other parts of life more fully. Taj (my wife) and I bought a house last summer, and I’ve been tinkering around with things, and finishing the much-delayed unpacking process. My high school cross country team is wrapping up their season. We’ve had an incredible string of races where over half of the team has run PRs each time out. We are heavy on the freshmen and sophomores, so I’m excited about the next few years. Their enthusiasm is great. Now if only I can sell them on summer training.

It’s been three weeks since the marathon, and I’m starting to build the base back up to get ready for the USA Half Marathon Championships, which is in January in Houston. I’ve been getting a little antsy on some of my runs and dropping the pace down to a good clip. To be safe, I’m avoiding hard workouts for awhile, probably until about the time winter hits in full force. Winter makes training tough, but I think some of the other guys on the team will do the half as well, so that will help. Other than that, spring plans are up in the air. I may run a marathon, or I may focus on 5K/10K as well as doing some road races. Time will tell. In the meantime, I’m enjoying life, building the training back up, and dreaming ahead.

September 19, 2006 Entry (Posted September 25, 2006)

Between long runs, workouts, and calls about the logistics of the next day's workout, it sometimes seems like I talk more with Lehmkuhle than with my wife. Jason and I are both running the Twin Cities Marathon (the site of this year's U.S. Championships). We also ran many of the same road races over the summer, so our training schedules have been in lockstep for the last few months.

As is often the case when you spend too much time with someone, you make promises that you shouldn't. I promised Jason that this installment of my journal would be done in the style of Ernest Hemingway. I gave it a try.

Here's a highlight: It was a hot day. Lundstrom sipped his Gatorade. He wanted to say something. Lehmkuhle stared off across the river and waited. Nicolini looked at her watch, left the room, and began pacing in front of the house. They tied their shoes and went out to start the run. They crossed the bridge to St. Paul. The river was muddy and sluggish. Lundstrom asked Lehmkuhle if he ever fished, and he said no, not anymore, he didn't have time for that. Their shirts were soaked with sweat already, and the run was just beginning. Lundstrom's legs ached. He said, "My legs ache." “Damn,” thought Lehmkuhle, “he's gone soft already.” He picked up the pace.

I had some concerns at the beginning of this marathon build-up, that attempting to train with Lehmkuhle would turn me into the crushed, withered spirit depicted in the above clip. Not the case at all. Much of the time during workouts and runs, we go stride for stride. However, when it comes time for us to run different paces (i.e., for him to leave me in the dust), we have been able to do that without damage to my ego. He's been racing incredibly at every distance, and I feel good about my training anytime I can stay in his vicinity. A few times, I have surprised myself, running workouts faster than ever before.

The highlight of the summer/early fall so far definitely was the New Haven 20k, the U.S. Championships at that distance. Elite athlete coordinators John Tolbert and Jim Gerwick took great care of all the athletes who came in for the race. I ran a PR of 1:01:43 for 11th place, about a minute and 15 seconds faster than last year. The pace (4:58) equals my best half-marathon, which I ran four years ago coming off my best track season. I'm thrilled to be able to run that pace off high mileage, marathon-specific training.

The whole weekend was really enjoyable. I bought a used copy of Jorge Luis Borges’ Labyrinths in one of the bookstore cafes near the Yale campus. I coerced Lehmkuhle and Carlson to eat a vegetarian meal with me at Claire’s Corner Copia. Both of them ran very well, and I'm not saying it was the vegetarian food, but I would love to try to take some small piece of credit for their successes.

With less than two weeks remaining until the marathon, I'm ready and eager for the day to arrive. We have been over almost the whole course a few times on training runs. There shouldn't be any surprises out there, but of course the marathon always tries to surprise you.

Tapering does not sit well with me - less training, more waiting. My wife Taj dislikes my tapering even more than I do. She has to be around me. I know I'm wound tight and full of nervous energy, but there's nothing I can do about it. I prefer the training grind - eat whatever you want and fall in bed exhausted every night. You ache all over, so much that you don't notice it anymore. Now I'm getting rested, and the little aches that remain stand out, demanding attention.

Fortunately, September has been a busier month outside of running, so that keeps me from going batty. I'm the head cross country coach at St. Paul Como Park High School, and I'm also teaching a class at the University of Minnesota (Track & Field Coaching). Both of these activities have really cut into the napping regimen I followed during the summer months. This is my first time teaching the class, so it has been quite a bit of work preparing lectures, assignments, and so forth. I enjoy it though, and I definitely would like to teach more in the future.

The highlight of my day is going to practice and coaching the Como Park Cougars. I love the team - their energy, enthusiasm, and willingness to work and learn. Most of all, it's great to see them grow as people and form strong bonds with each other. I would not trade that for all the naps in the world.

Cold air has descended upon Minnesota. Suddenly it's easy to maintain paces that were a strain in the humid air of just a few weeks ago. Let's hope the hill stays in the air through October 1 and the Twin Cities Marathon.

Introductory Entry - My 2006 Boston Marathon Experience

Winter Training This was my first full winter in Minnesota since high school. What it lacked in cold temperatures it made up for in icy conditions. In December and January, I had stubbornly slogged through workouts outside while my teammates had either relocated to warmer climes, or taken shelter on the indoor track or treadmill. My dog Hudson, a husky-shepherd mix, proved to be a great winter training partner. He would literally herd me out the door at 6:30 in the morning, a sight which my wife Taj found highly comical.

I operated on the assumption that training through a winter in Minnesota will make you tough. While that is most certainly true, it won’t necessarily make you fast. After cross country nationals in February, I was ready to forget about running the Boston Marathon. My National’s race went inexplicably poorly. Was it just a bad day? Or were my preparations inadequate?

Two days after that race, I reviewed my training log, and one thing stood out: long runs had been good. I had two months left to get ready for Boston. All I needed was to keep the long runs strong, and do a better job of getting the quality workouts done, even if it meant going to the indoor track. This was something Dennis Barker, the Team USA Minnesota coach, had been trying to get me to do for weeks. I don’t like treadmills and I don’t like indoor tracks, but I really, really don’t like performing below my abilities, so I sucked it up and went to the track.

After a few weeks of more consistent speed work on the U of M indoor track, and occasional runs on the treadmills at Lifetime Fitness, I ran a PR of 23:47 and won the Human Race 8k in St. Paul. While the field was not national class, there were many very good regional competitors. More importantly, I felt strong and in control all the way, a complete turnabout from my feeble effort at cross country nationals.

Race Weekend I left for the airport somewhat distracted by life. My taxes weren’t done. I had big projects due for my graduate-level classes in Kinesiology. My distance runners at St. Paul Como Park High School had been given workouts to follow in the days I would be gone, but would they follow them, and would they understand why I wasn’t there?

Landing in Boston, the worries melted away as the city was abuzz with the excitement of marathon weekend. I went to the expo and met up with Ron Wayne, my contact at Mizuno and a 4th place finisher at Boston in the 1980s. I had dinner with James Levins and Erik Lindstrom, two friends from Minneapolis who were also running the marathon. I had done many easy Sunday runs over the past few months with them, always discussing Boston. It felt weird to finally be there, like it had crept up too fast. I saw various other friends from around the country, and generally basked in the rare feeling of being in a place where runners are center-stage.

The morning of the marathon, I was on cloud nine. I felt within me the winter’s runs on dark roads, slick with ice, and the endless laps around that 200 meter track, my throat burning from the dry air. I felt strong and prepared, and the excitement built within me as I walked outside the hotel and saw all the other runners boarding the buses to Hopkinton.

The previous year, in my first Boston, I ran 2:23:50 for 20th place. It was a warm day, and I slowed a great deal in the second half, but still passed many people in the late stages. This year, I wanted to be in the top 15, and felt that I had trained to run about 2:16. Fortunately, weather conditions were much better this year, with temperatures in the mid-50s. On the bus to the starting line, I sat behind a cameraman who would be filming the race. I overheard him saying to his friend, “You might as well kill yourself if you don’t run fast today.” Kind of an extreme way of phrasing it, but the point hit home that there would be no excuses today.

The Race Too many times, I have heard runners say, “I went out way too fast, but I felt so good those first few miles!” My response has always been, “of course you felt good the first few miles, you idiot!” Well, my Boston 2006 story begins like this…

I felt really good those first few miles! I was running a few seconds per mile faster than my goal pace of 5:12 per mile, which is understandable given the downhills that grace the first few miles of the course. But as the race flattened out, and I clicked off a couple of 5:05s, and it occurred to me that I was committing the cardinal sin of marathoning – going out too fast. Training had been going better since February, but still, 5:12 was the goal, not 5:05. From miles 5 through 9, I ran along enjoying the excitement of the day, joyfully oblivious to the potential consequences of my overly optimistic pace.

Nine miles, and a small acceleration in the pack left me with a choice. I felt the burn in my quads by now, from so much downhill running. I could have gone with the pack, but it would have required me to press. I have run enough marathons to know not to strain in the first half. I let the pack go, and settled in for a lonely stretch of running.

My next splits were considerably slower, due in part to the conscious effort to stay within myself and regroup before the Newton Hills, but also partially due to the toll that the downhills had taken. I felt a little bit trashed already at halfway, but tried to focus on getting my fluids in, and staying as smooth as possible. The crowds helped keep my spirits up.

All the way up through the Newton Hills, I felt stronger, and my legs were coming back to me. A couple of runners caught up to me, but I was able to work with them and eventually move back ahead. I ran with Miguel Nuci for a while, a friend from California, and with others, some familiar, some unknown. Many other runners wilted on the roads ahead, and I passed them without hesitation, feeding myself on the knowledge that I felt better than a lot of other people.

Cresting Heartbreak Hill, I was accompanied by the omnipresent yellow, red, and black Hanson’s uniform. This particular Hanson’s runner was Kyle O’Brien, but I did not know that at the time. I only knew that the guys who wear that uniform are tough and well-prepared for the full marathon distance. These are not guys who will lay down and die in the last 10k.

Splits were irrelevant at that point. I knew I had fallen off my goal pace, but not too dramatically. I knew I could still break 2:20 and get the Olympic Trials “A” qualifier. And I could still catch some people. Less than 5 miles to go – race time. I took off downhill, feeling the scream through my quads. I thought about Luke Carlson, the strength coach who helps Team USA Minnesota runners. His workouts had prepared me for this burning in the quads. It hurt, but I knew I could take it. The crowds were thick and loud, and I closed my eyes for a second in disbelief.

The yellow, red, and black shadowed me and I tried to shake it, but also felt thankful that it was there, pressing me at every bend in the road. I looked ahead, drove forward, and tried to hold my form as we passed Fenway Park. I stared ahead at the Citgo sign, but the colors bled and blurred. I put my head down and raced to the top of the overpass.

I was alone then, and clarity came back to me. This was it, the last mile of the Boston Marathon. Exhilaration. The lonely roads of winter were far behind me. I studied the faces in the crowd, hoping to catch sight of someone I knew: my wife’s parents, who came from New York to watch the race, or maybe my friends from Minnesota who had moved to New Hampshire. I don’t see them, but people cheered as though I were their best friend. I picked up my knees and sprinted ahead down the home stretch, passing one more runner just before the line. 2:19:37. 16th place. Not quite top 15, and not quite a PR. I got the qualifier, though, and most importantly, I ran as hard as I could. It was tough, but I didn’t quit.

Among the US runners, the excitement was great in the recovery tent. Meb Keflezighi, Brian Sell, and Alan Culpepper took positions 3, 4, and 5. Last year, I was the 4th American in 20th place, and people had said that 4 in the top 20 was the best showing in a long time. This year, at least half of the top 20 were Americans.

I was most excited about the finish of Pete Gilmore, a friend from the Bay Area, who placed 7th in 2:12. Just out of college, Pete and I used to duke it out on the Pacific Association circuit, battling tooth and nail for the $75 prize money offered at weekend cross country races. He was my worst enemy then, as he threatened to beat me and force me to work a few more miserable hours at the temp job that I hated. But now, we’re friends. I was not only really happy for him, but I was also inspired to continue working and believing that my breakthrough day will come.

Back in Minnesota the next day, I went straight from the airport to track practice. My high school runners all stood and applauded when I walked up to the track, and that too is enough to keep me going.