Evolved to run?

In a new book called Born to Run, author Christopher McDougall explores an interesting theory that humans have evolved to be distance runners. Woven into the story of a running tribe called the raramuri of the Copper Canyons of Mexico, McDougall explores the research from human evolutionary biologists Daniel Lieberman and Dennis Bramble. The basic theory is that humans have evolved as bipedal animals with the specific capacity for endurance running that is not shared by other primates such as chimpanzees. It’s a very seductive idea to distance runners to think that we’re just doing what we so naturally do. In fact, we have evolved to do exactly this, so we’re really doing it old school! And to top it off, the McDougall book has gotten hundreds of runners interested in barefoot running, which is put forth as a far more natural way of running than in overbuilt shoes. Biomechanically this is a seductive idea as well, one that I’ve had fair success in implementing in my own running. (I’m up to around 12 miles comfortably in nothing but foot-form fitting slippers.)

Recently the find of an Ardipithecus ramidus, or Ardi, was unveiled to the public. Ardi is 4.4 million years old (Myo), far older than Lucy (an Australopithecus afarensis), who is a mere 3.3 Myo. I wonder whether or not the features of Homo sapiens (us!) that are posited to be beneficial for endurance running are found in these precursors to Homo.

For science and running geeks interested in reading some of the work done on the evolution of humans as endurance runners, see this Nature review by Lieberman and Bramble. A few other articles by the same authors exist, accessible via PubMed, and that review points to several good places to look for other relevant work.

Running angry. On skis. For 50 miles: A VT50 race report

I hate mud. That was the mantra that carried me through my last 13 miles of the Vermont 50 race this weekend. Actually, that’s the G rated, family friendly version of the actual thing that I was chanting throughout the end of the race, which starred the Mud.

Dreams of Vermont

I kept telling myself that I had plenty of time and was not worried about it. I missed the start, actually, and I had to miss my McDonald’s breakfast in order to make it to the starting line. I kept returning to the starting line, for some reason. And on top of that, it was raining. Just one of them things.

At least that was all in the dream. I leave for Vermont in the morning, and I’m a bundle of nervous energy as I think of all the preparation that has come and gone. There is no time left for a long run. Were 60-70 mile weeks enough? Was the 30 mile long run sufficient? Are my puny hills in Boston adequate training for the 9000′ of vertical ascent that await come Sunday? Will my newly appearing tendonitis in my right foot anchor my feet into the ground and complain on every step? I suppose all of these questions will be answered in full by 6:40 pm on Sunday.

My goal is to finish the race in the 12 hours allotted. I will go out conservatively. I will keep moving forward. I resolve to let only the clock stop me. The fear of the dreaded DNF looms, I must admit. Success in this race means only to give what I have. I think I will be okay for the first 20 miles. The next 10 miles will be painful. The last 20 miles will be fully mental. My race strategy? Keep moving forward. As David Horton says, “Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.” As K’naan says, “Never let them see you down, smile while you’re bleeding.” Come Sunday. I cannot wait.

Toes and training runs

I’ve been kind of training for the upcoming Vermont 50 Miler going on in two weeks (now in a few days). My weekly mileages are hovering around 50-75 miles per week, which isn’t too shabby, with my normal runs around 8-10 miles. I have been planning a 30 miler for a few weeks now, to gauge my preparedness for Vermont. It’s been planned for exactly two weeks prior to the race, and my plan was to see the pace of my run and then see how far under the 50 miler pace I was. For the training run, a friend of mine (KRMS) offered to run some of the miles with me, which was such a generous offer. It dawned on me that perhaps other people might want to join in on the run, so I tried to plan it so that there would be reasonable places to meet and for people to do whatever mileages they wanted to. KRMS is training for the Philadelphia Half Marathon and loves trails, so it was 6 trail miles for her and another friend of ours, RH. One of my ultrarunning friends, HR, decided to join along, almost didn’t make it, but ended up running the entire way with me! Seriously, the run would have been incredibly difficult mentally without the three of them, and I owe them my sincere gratitude!

We started out just before 7 AM finding a legal spot for Heather to park her car in Boston. The rain was already coming at a steady clip and did not appear to be letting up any time in the near future. I had planned to make the first 8 miles up to Middlesex Fells, our rendezvous point for KRMS and RH, at a pedestrian pace around 1 hour and 30 minutes with all traffic lights. As we made our final turn onto South Border Road, the southern edge of the Fells, I checked my watch and told HR, “I wouldn’t be surprised if they passed us while we’re running on this road.” A couple of minutes later, someone was hanging out the window of a car yelling encouragement (it was either that or obscenities) to us. A few moments later we saw two smiling faces bounding toward us very close to the parking area, where we all gathered for a moment before disappearing into the deserted but sufficiently un-desert like Fells.

The rain was the story of the day, and KRMS and RH were heroes in my book for braving the relentless storm. Our six miles on the Reservoir Trail together were in wonderful company and pretty easy, but probably only after we made the decision to tramp directly through puddles and not worry about soaked feet. I had DryMax on my side and was just trusting that everything would work out. Without incident we finished the six miles and took a brief repose before HR and I would circle back through and conquer the tougher and slightly longer seven mile Skyline Trail. I’ve never conceded that the Skyline Trail is a tough run, especially compared to the many rockier, hillier trails that can be found even near Boston, but with 13 miles already behind us and my shoes having an absolutely abysmal coefficient of friction with the slimy rocks, the Skyline Trail threatened to break me. Steadily, we climbed each pass and gingerly tiptoed down again and found ourselves surprisingly quickly at the tower, our final landmark before making our way out of the Fells. I cannot stress enough, without the company, it would have been excruciatingly difficult to have endured even these first 20 miles, something that would be underscored just weeks later on a somewhat failed long run that included some Fells sections.

We emerged from the Fells and steadily climbed our way out of Malden down long stretches of kind of ghetto highway that were boring, featureless, flat, and foreign to me. After a series of decisions that ultimately amounted to “Boston is approximately this way,” we ended up in a familiar area and continued running confidently into my standard stomping grounds.

The marathon mark happened unceremoniously along the Cambridge side of the river, at a pedestrian pace, as the rain relented for just the brief celebratory moment. Cruising through Brookline took us for the final four miles, and the only way I could have continued running is if I had never stopped. To think about 20 more miles at that point was slightly obscene. But that didn’t have to happen at that moment.

HR went out the next day for several back to back soccer games, while I got a nasty cut in my toe the next day during a game of pickup ultimate frisbee. HR went on to run a blistering, sub-10 hour time in her 50 miler, with foot pain, highlighting her incredible fitness, mental fortitude, and resolve.

I will know if I’m ready for my own race by about 6 pm on Sunday, the final cutoff for the VT50. In this great experiment of ultra training, it will be very interesting to see if this was sufficient. But I always have this run, among my favorites to date, shared in the company of friends and mud.

Repurposing Sept 1

September 1 is a special day in Boston. It’s Moving Day. More aptly, it’s the biggest mess of frantic young, new residents to our fair city who are desperately trying to move in or move around the city. Nearly every single lease turns over on Sept 1, so this affects a large part of the renter population in Boston (most of us). It’s the day on which Uhauls are parked haphazardly onto curbs and every minor artery is clogged with cars with mattresses strapped to the roofs, invariably with the passenger’s hand clinging for dear life to the mattress to ensure that it doesn’t end up as roadkill for the local buses. The Ridiculousness That Is Sept 1 actually begins the night before and extends well into the late evening, and so it is a day when, as a person who stays put, it’s just best not to go outside.

However, I want to repurpose the Dreaded Moving Day into something that some of us who are less crazy on Sept 1 can enjoy, while allowing us to move about our daily lives and yet avoid the traffic conditions that are worse than on Red Sox playoff game days near Fenway. I propose that today is Running Commute day, on which runners and non-runners alike can run to work in Boston. It could be that I am the first and only celebrant of this wonderful holiday, complete with baby wipes and deodorant, but from now on in Boston, this is how I will celebrate the madness that is Sept 1. While my strategy in past years was to hide in my apartment like a frightened turtle inside its shell, I will hide no longer! I will run to work. Dear reader(s), you are welcome to join.

Happy Running Commute Day!

An ode to my socks

Floating through the woods at night full of bliss,
Countless thoughts slip in and out of my mind.
Despite my fatigue, constant awareness
Is necessary down hills I have climbed.

Cruising along to chase the spot of light,
Sounds on either side of me amplified.
A rustling of a bear is out of sight,
Or perhaps the sound of a squirrel has lied.

Despite the absence of a sun long gone,
The air is a sponge that saved all the heat.
My skin leaks some, as does the hat I don.
Sweat in its own race approaches my feet.

But lo! For a while I know to relax!
For my feet are protected by Drymax!

9.595! 9.595!

Usain Bolt just did the equivalent of running 2 back to back 9.595 s times for over 100 meters. Of course, they call this competition the 200 m, and that makes his time 19.19 s. If 9.4 can be met in the 100 m, it seems incredibly possible that perhaps sub-19 seconds can be attained in the 200 meter race. What an amazing performance by Usain Bolt for his second world record and second gold of these World Championships.

9.58

Usain Bolt of Jamaica just set the world record in a 100 meter footrace at 9.58 seconds. 9.58. That’s 23.35 miles per hour — on foot. The next to last 20 meters of the race peaked at over 27 mph. Let’s give this achievement some perspective.

10.0 was first run in 1960.
9.95 was first run in 1968 (8 years to drop 0.05 s)
9.86 was first run in 1991 (23 years to drop 0.9 s)
9.79 was first run in 1999 (8 years to drop 0.07 s)
9.69 was first run in 2008 (9 years to drop 0.10 s)
9.58 was first run earlier today (exactly 1 year to drop 0.11 s)
9.49 — ?

This is a reminder to everyone to extrapolate wildly from these data to see when a runner will instantaneously cross the finish line.

Of course, anyone who saw Bolt’s Beijing performance knew he was capable of more, with some speculating 9.50 or even 9.40. In a recent interview, American record holder Tyson Gay has often said that he wouldn’t be surprised to see 9.5 fall sometime soon. It’s looking more and more likely to happen within my lifetime. Bolt himself thinks that 9.4 is possible but not much more than that, whatever that means. Amazing.

I’m pretty sure Bolt can set the WR in the 200 m as well in Berlin, though Bolt himself knows his training has been more focused on the 100 m race at the expense of the 200 m. I look forward to seeing that!

Bless you!

A friend of mine suggested a trail run this weekend, and who am I to turn that down? We decided on Wachusett Mountain Reservation (sounds like sneezing!) in North Central Massachusetts and arrived at the Ski Lodge parking area on the northeastern side of the park. As my friend waited patiently, I pulled on my new gaiters over my almost-new shoes, and cinched down my hydration pack. We hit the trailhead with no expectations and ready to roll through some nice trails.

Keeping Pace at the Vermont 100

Prologue
I almost got into some random person’s car in White River Junction, VT. A couple of times. It’s because I didn’t really know what my host John, the director of pacers for the Vermont 100 race, looked like. But on the third try to get into a stranger’s car, John finally spotted me, looking like a foreigner in the strange land of Vermont.