What I Learned From the Maine Coast Marathon

I signed up for the Maine Coast Marathon several months ago, knowing full well the race would be sandwiched between two weddings on opposite coasts. I figured I could pull it off pretty easily -- the trip to San Francisco was one week before the race, amid my taper, and the trip to Disney World three days after the race would offer a nice recovery opportunity. (For the uninitiated, a typical day at Disney requires several miles of walking.) 

For the most part, I did pull it off. I fell short of my lofty goal (a BQ of 3:05) and my more realistic goal (a PR under 3:13), but I ran the race I wanted, for the most part. I'd planned to run negative splits, starting with 7:20s and finishing with sub-6:50s en route to that BQ. This worked well -- that is, up until Mile 19 or so, when the sun, the heat and the pace starting to take their toll. (Any other year, 70-degree temperatures might have been bearable, but after training through the Polar Vortex, not so much.) 

My finishing time, 3:16:15, ranks as my third or fourth best. (I can't remember, really.) I'm still several minutes faster than I was at 21, which is great, and more than half an hour faster than my worst marathon, so I really can't complain. 

Of course, there's a lesson here. I concocted my negative split plan a whopping two weeks before race day. (Great idea, Beastwood.) This means I did none of my long runs as progression runs, which means I wasn't physically prepared to run faster deeper into the race. I thought I was, of course, having made easy work of my tempo runs, often exceeding my target paces by 15 seconds per mile. It takes more than two weeks -- and two weeks of taper at that -- to prepare yourself for a race strategy that you've never employed.

That said, I got the hard part of the marathon right: I started slowly, stayed that way and kept to my target paces for three-quarters of the race. Next time, I'll set less ambitious splits -- and, more importantly, I'll train for those negative splits from the beginning. Setting goals is important, after all, and now I have two clear-cut ones for training for marathon #11. Now, about that sunshine...

Running on the Dreadmill: Don't Think Twice, It's Alright

Most runners hate treadmills. They prefer to be outdoors, breathing in fresh air, enjoying the scenery and not enduring the monotony of staring at a tiny little screen (or themselves in a mirror) for the duration of a workout. 

I don’t like treadmills. I also don’t like running on an icy track, as taking a digger would mean hobbling home in in below-freezing temperatures. Nor do I like running in extreme heat, which often happens when I travel for business (see: Las Vegas in late August). 

The treadmill, then, is a necessary evil. Given the choice, of course, I’d pound the pavement or head to the track, but I’m not going to postpone a workout simply because I need to hit the gym. 

When I do need to run on the treadmill, here’s how I pass the time. 

Workouts with easy math. I usually do speed work on the treadmill -- it’s not really that much more monotonous than running on a track, it goes by quickly and I don’t have to feel guilty about not adjusting the incline. “Easy math” means intervals that require little to no rational thought. Repeat miles, 800s or 400s -- all easy fractions of a mile -- at the same pace? Yes. A 1200, 1000, 800, 600 and 400, all at a different pace? No thanks. (This does mean I have to juggle the training schedule sometimes, but, like I said, it’s better than skipping the workout altogether.) 

A slow warmup. On land, my warmups tends to fall around 9:00/mile or faster. I go a bit slower on the treadmill (10:00/mile), largely because of the aforementioned easy math (10 is easier to add to other numbers than 9) but also because it forces me to actually take it easy when I warm up. 

Music. I pick an album or playlist that’s at least as long as my workout. That way I’m not fumbling with my iPod (third generation, baby!) when I’m trying to cruise through an 800. I avoid TV; since I do track workouts, and I have to frequently bump the speed up and down, I find TV too distracting. 

Water. Most gyms are hot and dry, so I bring more water with me than I probably need. (After all, if I have to pee, the bathroom is right there -- and not behind a tree.) 

Towel. Unless you want to use rough paper towels to wipe your face, you should bring an old, ratty towel with you. In a pinch, an old, ratty T-shirt will do. 

Incline. On the rare occasion when I’m just running on the treadmill for the sake of running, I bump the incline up a couple percentage points. This adds some necessary resistance. 

Walk. After my cooldown, I walk for at least a minute. If I jump off the treadmill right away, I feel loopy, as though my body should still be moving. Walking (at 3 miles an hour or so) makes this weird feeling go away. 

The next time you find yourself faced with the horrible burden of running on a treadmill, don’t think twice. It’s alright. 

(I know the Dylan version better than Joan Baez. Sorry.)

If nothing else, you should be marveling at the ability to run several miles without actually moving. That’s pretty freaking cool.

For Speed Work to Succeed, You Need the Will to Run Through the Pain

As marathon training has progressed in earnest, I’ve been reintroduced to the funtasticness that is the speed workout. Aside from the occasional fartlek, I hadn’t done legitimate speed work since college and hadn’t set foot on a track since high school. 

I never really liked speed work. Anything shorter than a mile felt like a sprint, and, let’s face it, I wasn’t a sprinter. I spent most of my time toward the back of the pack, simultaneously marveling at the speed that my teammates had and cursing them for it. 

These days, speed work feels much different. It’s a solitary activity, as I’m not on a team, so I am only running against the clock. It’s also specifically targeted to a race goal -- a 3:10 marathon -- not to going balls to the wall and/or impressing the girls’ team as much as possible. 

The targeted times of Run Less, Run Faster help, as they make it easy (in theory, at least) to set a pace, stick with it and maintain it over the course of a workout. But they still make you hurt -- and it’s a different sort of hurt than grinding out the last miles of a long run or hitting the pace goal of a tempo run. 

Track workouts hurts because they beat you up from the first interval and don’t stop. Your legs continue to burn with each rep, and it becomes harder and harder to hit that goal time. 

This leaves you with two choices. One is to stop, to say you did all that you could, scrape what remains of your pride off the track, and stumble home with your tail between your legs. The other choice is to reach down, deep within yourself, and finish the damn workout. 

(Yes, this song is longer than some track workouts. It’s also awesome. So there.) 

I’d be lying if I said this was easy. I’d also be a hypocrite if I neglected to mention that I’ve been guilty of taking my foot off the accelerator this summer. “Who cares if my sixth 800 is a few seconds off,” I told my sweat-covered self, “if my first five 800s were all within one second of my goal pace?” 

Here’s the thing: The pain goes away. If your cooldown is slow enough and long enough -- mine is close to 1.75 miles, or the distance from the track to my house -- you’ll feel fine by the time you get home. Stretch and foam roll later on, and you won’t even be sore when you go to bed. 

But the next time you step onto the track, you’ll remember that you do, in fact, have enough in you to throw the hammer down for the entire workout. And when you step to the line for your next race, you’ll be that much more prepared than the folks in the crowd around you.

Run to the Hills

Eight miles into this week's 15-mile run, I met an old friend: A hill.

As long as I can remember, hills and I have gotten along quite well. (I thank my high school cross country coach, who dragged us to Heartbreak Hill, Nashoba Valley Ski Area and other God-forsaken spots for hill workouts.) In crowded races, I almost always pass folks on hills and often use them to begin a surge or, if nothing else, regain momentum lost.

This hill hit me hard, though. I don't know why. My route was a familiar one (heck, it used to be my drive home from work), I was running well (I'd eventually finish 20-plus seconds faster than my target pace) and the temperature had finally dropped to a relatively comfortable level.

For eastern Massachusetts, it's a decent hill -- probably half a mile, and steep enough that your quads burn even after the terrain levels. As I ran on Wednesday, I remembered ascending the same hill a couple winters ago, when it had been about 70 degrees colder, quite a bit darker and a teensy bit more slippery.

Suddenly the present didn't seem so bad. As I have many times before, I held form on the hill and coasted home.

Don't get me wrong. Hills suck. But powering through them will only make you a stronger runner. There's a reason I remember those workouts from high school, along with the topography (but not the name) of several streets in my hometown. Simply put, those workouts worked.

The next time you do a familiar run, scope out the hills. The time after that, turn the run into a fartlek workout: Sprint up the hills and rest in between.

Or, if there's a hilly neighborhood nearby, and a street bisecting it, run intervals on the side streets. Initially, aim for a pace that makes you breathe hard but isn't an all-out sprint -- after all, you should do several intervals. The stronger you get, obviously, the faster you should go. 

Hills take a toll on your quads, so be sure to stretch well after your run, and don't do hills more than once a week. After a few weeks, those hills will get a bit easier -- and, in your next race, you very well may find yourself leading the charge up the biggest hill on the course.

These Are a Few of My Favorite Runs

The more you run, the more you find yourself covering familiar territory, both figuratively (in your triumphs and tragedies, so to speak) and literally (in running the same distance many, many times). When you're in the 'burbs, and the streets are fewer and farther between, it's even harder to add variety.

Some people get bored running the same roads over and over, but I find it helpful. I can use landmarks to easily identify mile markers, and, more importantly, I can just put on my shoes and head out the door without thinking about it too much. (This is especially true when I run at night - it means I know the sidewalks well and can point my headlamp at oncoming traffic instead.)

These are the routes I run most often:

3.1 miles. Since this is arguably the most popular race distance, it makes sense to have a 5K route around your neighborhood. Whether you're a beginner or a veteran, you'll need to get used to this distance. One tip: Run it forward one day and backward the next to avoid injury and boredom.

5 miles. This is another popular race distance. It's also a good test of how well you're progressing beyond the 5K. When you start speed work, this will make for a good fartlek or a quick tempo distance, too.

7-8 miles. I have a 7.6-mile route that I do often. This distance stands at the edge of my fatigue threshold, meaning it's as far as I can run on an empty stomach. Anything more and I need some pre-run fuel. It's a good "test" for me, to see how well training has progressed.

10 miles. This distance isn't for everyone. It may take others quite some time to get here. But there's definitely something to be said for hitting double-digit mileage. The sense of accomplishment never dissipates. Just don't make this an out-and-back route that passes several pizza places in a five-mile span. You'll just get hungry. Trust me. Seriously.

(I don't have routine routes for longer runs. One reason is that I've realized my old reliable routes aren't terribly safe -- they lack shoulders and streetlights, neither of which are conducive to safe nighttime running. Another is the fact that I tend to overanalyze my runs; by mapping them out the day that I do them, I avoid this problem.)

It helps to have short loops you can add to these familiar routes. By hitting side streets, I can add 0.4 or 0.6 miles to my first two routes and another full mile to the last two. This works well if I need an extended warmup or cool down or want to make an easy run a bit longer. It also breaks up the monotony. 

What are the ol' standby running routes and distances that you use? How do you keep them from getting boring?

One Bad Workout Does Not a Marathon Training Program Make

This week marks the first of my 16-week training program for the Smuttynose Rockfest Marathon. I’m using Run Less Run Faster, which I tried a few years ago but abandoned after a few weeks when it became obvious that I wasn’t going to be ready for a marathon. (I hadn’t registered, so I didn’t lose any money. Otherwise I would have put a lot more thought into my decision.) 

I like Run Less, Run Faster because it only requires three workouts per week -- one speed workout, one tempo run and one long run -- along with one or two days of cross training. It’s tough, but it’s also realistic for those of us who prefer to have a bit of a life. 

Being relatively familiar with the program, but having not really looked at it in a long time, I didn’t glance at the program until last weekend. First workout? Three repeat miles in 6:01. Yikes. 

Due to some not unforeseen circumstances, I ended up doing this Wednesday morning. As I’ve noted, I’m not a morning runner, nor am I a huge fan of speed workouts. And it showed. After clocking 5:57 and 6:05 in my first two miles, my body just stopped working a bit less than midway through the third mile. Just stopped. I’d reached the top of a hill, but, nope. Wasn’t happening. 

I used the unexpectedly long cool down to mull things over. Initially, I was pissed, but the more I thought about it, the more I, well, cooled down. First, this was my first legitimate speed workout in a few years. Yes, I’ve done plenty of fartleks, but no timed intervals. Second, this was my first hard run in the morning in several years. When I run in the morning, it’s always easy. Third, it was my first freakin’ speed workout. I have 15 more.

Fourth, and most important, this isn’t supposed to be easy. It is was, sidewalks would be clogged with water bottles, empty energy gel packets and other signs of folks training for a marathon. It’s hard -- damn hard -- and not every workout is a walk in the park. Yes, this one hurt a little more because it was literally my first workout, but I’ll have plenty of chances to redeem myself -- least of all on race day. One bad workout won’t keep me down.

Fartlek's Just Another Word for Nothing Left to Lose

Speed workouts can overwhelm runners of all experience levels. If you're a beginning runner and find track work daunting, you're not alone: I haven't stepped on a track since senior year of high school, thanks to many unpleasant memories and a general unwillingness (and inability) to discreetly hop a fence when no one’s looking.

That said, speed workouts also help runners of all experience levels. They build muscle, they train your legs to run despite fatigue and, well, they make you faster.

When I feel as though I would like to run fast (I refuse to quote Top Gun), I do a fartlek workout. It's fun to say, it's easy and it's quick.

Fartlek is Swedish for speed play, and the original fartlek workout included long intervals, speed work and hills. (You can also borrow from the U.S. Marine Corps and incorporate calisthenics if you’re feeling particularly badass.)

I don't go to that much trouble -- partly because hills are few and far between in southern New England, partly because there’s no way I could keep track of all that and partly out of fear that doing jumping jacks in the center of town may rob me of what little dignity I have left -- but I do give my fartlek workouts a bit of structure.

First, you need to figure out the duration of your run. (This is one of those runs where time matters more than distance.) You can do a quick, effective fartlek workout in 30 minutes. Anything longer than 60 minutes is pushing it, figuratively and literally; you're just going to tire yourself out.

Remember, too, that though you’re sprinting, the run as a whole will be slower than a plain ol' run. My warmup/cooldown pace is generally at least 2:30 slower than my 5K pace -- enough that I'm sweating but not breathing too hard -- and between sprints I’m not going much faster than a jog.

Once you get out there, do a warmup for 10 to 15 minutes. Any less, I find, is insufficient to "shake the lead out" of my legs. Any more and you might as well just do an easy run.

Next are the fartleks. I do these in sets of two to four, depending on their duration:

• 30 or 45 seconds: Sets of four.
• 45 or 60 seconds: Sets of three.
• 60 to 90 seconds: Sets of two.

(Note: If you sprint for more than 90 seconds, you're edging into interval training as opposed to fartlek training. This serves a different purpose, which I’ll cover later.)

I tend to stick to 30, 45, 60, 75 and 90 seconds for my fartleks, as math is easy enough to do while glancing at a watch. My break between sprints in each set is as long as the spring itself -- i.e. 30-second fartlek, 30-second break. Between each set I'll add a minute to my break.

The number of sets I do also varies, though it's usually inversely proportional to the number of sprints in each set.

• 30-45 seconds: Two sets of four sprints each.
• 45-60 seconds: Three sets of three sprints each.
• 60-90 seconds: Four sets of two sprints each.

The idea here is to give yourself a decent amount of recovery time while still pushing yourself out of your comfort zone. You may not think eight 30-second sprints in a nine-minute span will hurt, but it does. On the other hand, doing a set of four 90-second sprints will hurt like hell.

These are also inexact. If I do 45-second sprints, I don’t always do them in sets of three; there are some tricky intersections in my town, and I try to avoid sprinting through them since, well, that’s not safe. (Besides, race conditions are inexact.)

Finally, do your cooldown. This should be 10 to 15 minutes. There's nothing wrong with extending it, but don't cut it short. (If you're doing a route for the first time, and you think it may take longer than the time you’ve calculated, tack the extra time on the cooldown.) And stretch well after you've showered and refueled.

Who else likes fartlek workouts as much as I do?