DC Spinster

Prudential put on a 4.01K race at RFK yesterday morning, a 2 1/2 mile romp around the parking lots at the stadium in essence.  It was designed to highlight the looming (or occurring) retirement crisis in America where nobody has enough money to be able to actually stop working, except maybe the one percenters.

It was free, and you could create a team.  I created a team called January Ninth, which refers to the last day of the federal leave year this year.  I even activated my race wrist band on-line and printed off my bar code to bring with me to the race check-in.

But it was raining yesterday morning, and no work running buddies were going to come anyway.  So I didn't drive all the way across town to go to the race site.

But I did design a 4.01K race course in my head that left from my driveway and finished there.  Actually, since I was now the race director of this alternate run, I took note of the rain and reduced the course from a 4.01K to a 2.005K course, or a hairsbreadth over 1.2 miles.  Choosing to lay out the course as my standard neighborhood mile with two extra blocks thrown in, I lined up in the rain and off I went.

I ran pretty hard, since I was cold and getting wet, and I got into the run and was working it, just like in the old days of the last decade.  Soon my breathing became less ragged, I was focusing on turnover and I reached the halfway point of my little 2.005K course at the point where my mile run intersects briefly with the W&OD Trail.

Why not make it the real race distance of about 2.5 miles, I thought.  The MP 7 marker was down the trail about a quarter mile, and if I went past it to MP 7.5, turned around that and came back to here, that would add the extra 1.2 miles I needed to turn my 1 1/4 mile run into a 2.5 mile run.  Obviously my math was fuzzy, since in actuality I was adding about 1.5 miles instead of the necessary 1.2 miles, but it made sense to me at the time as I was redesigning the course on the fly.

It felt good to be going down the trail at speed.  I felt like I was doing 8-minute miles, or more probably about 8:10s.

Soon I was turning around MP 7.5 and then I was approaching the spot again where I had mentally reconfigured the race course to make it the appropriate distance.  My time running seemed to belie the pace I thought I was running at, because I was taking too long to be at this late spot in the race, so I picked it up a little more.  Down the last long straight block I could see the finish line stretching across my driveway and I sprinted the last 100 yards to bring the race home in 24:52.

Hmm.  A 9:59 pace, if the course was truly 4.01K.  I know I ran way faster than that so I decided the course was long, way long.

What a clown the race director was, I thought, to lay out such an obviously long course.  But I was pleased with my first-place showing.  And don't you know, in this virtual race, I was also DFL!

Pacers, a local running store/club, put on a 4-mile race for Dads yesterday morning from their store in Pentagon Row.  Rather than drive all the way down there, and spend $40 to register, I ran a virtual 4-mile Father's Day race yesterday morning on the W&OD Trail behind my house.

I ran the same route I did two weeks ago, described two posts ago, in 39:51 back then with the first mile at 10:20 and the second terrible uphill mile where the trail climbs over I-66 in 9:56.  By starting at a different spot yesterday, I put that uphill stretch in the 3d mile so I burned off the first mile on a level stretch in 8:40 this time around, even running down a couple who were two hundred yards ahead of me pushing a running stroller and running with a dog on a leash.

The time dropped swiftly as I hit the second milepost in 18:20 (9:10) and then hit the long uphill leading to Milepost 8, a slog every bit as tough as the run up Capitol Hill in the District.  Whatever my time was for the third mile was ugly but the fourth mile had a nice long downhill so perhaps I made some time back.

I hit the tape at 38:39 (9:40), better than two weeks ago but still far from satisfactory.  I remember three years ago, before I got hurt and took all that time off and gained all that weight, doing the same four-mile stretch with all four miles coming in at just under 8 minutes, including the uphill.

The last week of December I didn't run at all; although I felt guilty about it each day I took a week off to rest and heal. When I returned to running this past week, I felt sluggish and fatigued during each run, and my first run noontime run running with coworkers in several weeks produced a shortened jaunt of four and a half miles at a 9:30 pace which my running buddies afterwards described offhandedly as feeling slow.

On Thursday noon I tried to kick it up some and we went our customary five and a half miles on the Mall at a 9:09 pace but whenever my friends from work tried to chat me up as we ran about work and life as usual I answered in guttural monosyllables and hung doggedly on the last three miles, resisting the urge to stop and walk. I didn't get enough running in, either in terms of distance or pace, those weeks I spent in Dallas and it shows.

Yesterday I started a new program as a drop-in coach in the same Walk-To-Run (WTR) training session in Arlington that I used last January to kick start me back to running after my year and a half layoff due to injury. At the introductory meeting I was introduced by the program as the "rabbit" coach (as opposed to the rest of the "penguin" coaches) to the assembled newbie walkers/runners in case any of them stick with the program and prove to be "fast."

We walked a mile after the christening lecture about layering, hydration etc. in 14:30 for our first workout which drew astonished remarks from the trainees about our fast pace but which I'm pretty sure was the product of a short mile. The goal of the program is to have the attendees run/walk a 5K in about four months time and since I have been designated to be the "fast" coach of the program I went home afterwards and cranked out a 5K route in 28:49 (9:17) around my neighborhood to see what I could do the distance in these days, although I felt extremely sluggish and winded as I did so. Obviously I have a long way to go to get back into some semblence of condition and I might even have to do some track work.

A local running store, Pacers, puts on a series of road races throughout the DC region, and they were sponsoring a 4-mile Dad's Day race in South Arlington this morning. It started and ended at the old Gotta Run store I used to use as the home base for the training programs I formerly conducted for my former running club. I love running down there, by the Pentagon.

I wanted to run the race, although I knew I wouldn't have a good time given my overweight condition and lack of a base. An hour before the start it was threatening to rain and since nobody I knew was going to be there, I decided to run a virtual 4-miler on the W&OD Trail behind my house instead and save the entry fee.

The trail is mostly flat and has half-mile markers, so it's easy to keep track of your time. I walked out my door and within a minute and a half was at mile marker 7.

I punched my Timex Ironman and ran east to mile marker 6 in 9:36. The morning was overcast and deceptively humid. Turning around and running westbound, I was passed by a runner and I passed another runner. Just like a race! my mind enthused to my tiring body.

I passed mile marker 7 at 19:45, halfway through the "race." I seriously considered making this a 2-mile race instead as I looked longingly at the back of my house when I passed it (coffee inside! food! McDonald coupons!)

However I soldiered on, slowing considerably. I arrived at mile marker 8 and turned around at 31:58, an ugly mile but now three quarters done. It had started raining and I was drenched.

As I shuffled my way back eastbound, I mused about my coaching days. Oftentimes when I encountered a runner plodding along in a fatigued rut, I would suggest varying the pace to break the painful mental monotony the runner's tiredness had induced. Speed it up a little, in other words, because it's rejuvenating plus you "get there" sooner.

I picked it up and felt better. The last mile was my best mile except for the first mile.

I diverted from the trail half a mile from mile marker 7, onto residential streets so I could finish the "race" right at my house. My watch showed 38 minutes and change with three blocks to go. I ran faster. Turnover! my mind told my body.

Silly delineations matter to runners. I certainly wanted to break 40 minutes for the "race."

I was closely monitoring my watch as my house came into view. I stepped onto the sidewalk of the block my house is on and punched my Ironman. 39:59:51. Made it!

Who could say that just because I hadn't reached my driveway yet that the 4-mile point wasn't somewhere on that block. I'm putting this sub-40 virtual 4-miler into the books.

I missed my second Tidal Basin 3K in a row this month, due to a meeting I was summoned to at 11:30 a week ago last Wednesday. The race, run the 3rd Wednesday of every month, starts at noon over two miles from my workplace. Before last month, I had run in 98 out of the last 108 races.

The race has changed for me though, as some people who regularly run it blame me, as president, for my club ending its sponsorship this year of the forty five year old race. A new association was formed to run the race, which is problematic because it's run on Park Service land and it is unpermitted. There are problems when the wrong Park Ranger shows up and wants to take names and lay down the law about groups over 25 persons gathering for any purpose there (I don't know how tour buses get away with letting their passengers out for a short hike). This is infrequent, however. I don't feel welcome running the race, even though I personally contributed $50 to the association to help it get started.

Anyway, the next morning I decided to do a fast short run by doing what used to be my staple run, a 2.5 mile run to the schoolhouse up the street and back. In olden times I did this run at breakneck speed five mornings a week, 12.5 miles every week. I'd be done with my daily exercise before the coffee finished brewing. It kept me sleek and fast, but I didn't have much base.

Now I run in groups and do around 25 miles each week. I have a base but I'm much less sleek and far slower. Hmmm.

Outbound there's a hill that's a third of a mile long. I can tell I'm on track if I get to the turnaround a mile and a quarter out in under ten minutes, which is an 8:00 m/m pace.

This particular morning I labored going up the hill and I passed the mile marker at 8:20. I hit the turnaround at 10:20 and wondered if I could return in 9:19. I couldn't. I ran up to my driveway at 20:12 (8:05), for a return trip of 9:52. If I had been doing a virtual 3K race, my time for 1.86 miles would have been 15:04.

The coffee was ready by the time I got back.

I felt betrayed. The display on the bike rack read, "Temporarily closed for system servicing. Please come back later."

I didn't have "later." The monthly noontime Tidal Basin 3K Run, held the third Wednesday of every month, was going to start in 10 minutes. And it was two miles away.

I wasn't going to make it. This was going to be only the tenth one that I have missed in the last hundred months.

I have a new system for attending this run which is two and a half miles from my work, to cut down the time I am away from the office when it is held. I used to jog there, run the race, and jog back. It was time consuming.

Lately I have been jogging over to Judiciary Square and picking up a SmartBike (100 bikes scattered about the city at 10 bike racks that members can use for free anytime during the day). Then I bicycle the rest of the way, and bicycle back after the race. It saves a lot of time. I have come to depend upon this method of getting there, and now leave my office for the race at a quarter to noon instead of at 11:30.

But the SmartBike.DC system was down, and I was stuck. I couldn't get a bike out of the locked rack, although there were seven candy-colored beauties there tantalizing me. Just when you start to count on something . . . . .

Runners are resilient though, right? I figured out a 3K route in my head that travelled up Capitol Hill for a little hillwork thrown in and took off at noon for a virtual 3K race. I wound up 14:54 (8:02) later at Union Station where I bought lunch and walked with it the two blocks back to my office, arriving back at work at 12:20.

Later when I plotted out the route I had run on g-maps, I saw it was a little short of 3K, 1.8 miles instead of 1.86 miles. But the real race doesn't have a big hill like Capitol Hill in it.

You thought the leaden winter would bring you down forever

Last month I posted about spending twenty-five minutes in a full body MRI machine. I coped with the claustrophobic nature of it by imagining that I was on one of my most familiar runs, a two and a half mile out-and-back to the school yard a mile and a quarter up the way. If I'm on my game, it should take me twenty minutes, ten minutes out and ten minutes back, an 8:00 pace. It was a dreamy run, one which I unfolded in my head in real time as best as I could gauge it, as I lay within the confining chamber.

In my dream I passed the first mile in 8:10; and after making the turnaround in the school parking lot, I brought the virtual run home in 19:50 (7:55), utilizing the downhill nature of the return to make up those lost seconds. I encountered all the real-world things I expected to, running by the cemetery, over the creek at the bottom of the route, and up the big hill just before the mile marker.

In late December I actually ran the route again, a run during which I was thinking about a dream where I was running the run I was running. Leaden walls enclosed me then, leaden skies were my boundary now.

I started out from in front of my house on the grey day and rapidly rounded the corner at the end of the block. To keep under an 8:00 pace I have to get moving quickly. I ran by the road undulations the first half mile that lead past St. James Cemetery and down to the creek. At about two minutes into the run I was at my maximum discomfort in terms of oxygen deprivation as I struggled to acclimate myself to the fast pace, and I wished for a second that I was lying back in the metal tube in a dreamy state instead of outside laboring on a run for real. Then I glanced up at the limitless sky overhead, surveyed the wide open spaces around me, and thought, No way!

My breathing became more normal as I started up the big hill. Glancing at the sign on the bridge over the creek, I noticed that in my dream I had inserted an extraneous apostrophe in the creek's name, Tripps Run. Just up from the base of the hill, the yapping dog that has always accompanied me along his house's fence line again did not come out, just as in the dream, and I suspect that the littler feller is not alright.

I pushed up the hill in real life, knowing this was where I had fallen off my 8:00 pace in my dream. Past the steep first part, past the more gentle incline of the middle part, past the steepest grade of the last part, past the white-columned house near the top, over the crest and down into the little hollow below, where the mile marker is. I passed the first mile in 7:48, well ahead of my pace in my dream run. Around the further turn, I hit the turnaround at 9:30 for the first mile and a quarter. I knew my sub-8:00 pace (twenty minutes for the run) was assured now; because of the upcoming big downhill, the second half of the run is always faster on this run unless I dawdle.

I hit my driveway ending the two and a half mile run at 18:52 (7:33), a particulalrly fast run for me. I had pushed it throughout, delighted to be in the great outdoors on the run rather than inside a small metal coffin during it. I rarely go sub-19:30 on this fast run. Although I ran a negative split, it was only by eight seconds for the last mile and a quarter, which showed, given the benefit of the long downhill, that I was tiring near the end.

Running, be it in a dream or in actuality, is liberating.

I was unable to move, enveloped deep within the recesses of the narrow MRI chamber with a wall of curvy metal sweeping past my face. A loud buzzing noise came on.

I closed my eyes and drifted off. Periodical silences would intervene, punctuated by a series of loud clicks as the camera readjusted again. Occasionally a technician would ask me over the intercom how I was doing. Since I couldn’t give them a thumbs up, I would always say “Fine.”

They had said I would be in there for about twenty minutes. I know exactly how long twenty minutes is. It is how long it takes me to run to the schoolyard from my house and back again, a mile and a quarter each way. I have done it hundreds of times. Eight minute miles, ten minutes up, ten minutes back.

So I walked to the end of my driveway. Since I never stretch, I just punched my Timex and took off. I ran down the sidewalk past my neighbor’s house. He never picks up his free weekly newspaper, and there it was in his yard. I ran by my realtor’s house next, on the other side of the street. What was his wife's name? I can never remember. I passed by the parking lot of the strip mall, the one with the Bikram studio. The yoga people weren't out and about yet, mats tucked under their arms. The arterial road at the end of my street lay ahead, just past the stop sign a block further on .

I attained the secondary artery and turned right. It was a mile to the school yard from there, up the big hill a third of a mile away and around a couple of slight bends to the left.

Many of the houses I went by had a little bit of history for me. There was the house where I dropped off some misdelivered mail once while on a run, pictures from a wedding apparently, and the occupant was so grateful. I ran by the decrepit ramshackle house where my middle child used to play with his friend. This bittersweet memory was disturbing to me so I mentally shook it off and glided on. Slowly I topped the first rise on the run and ran down the slight decline beyond it.

The small colonial-era graveyard lay off to the right, St. James Cemetery. That was my father's name, and it is my oldest son's name. In the hollow below lay a creek, the low point of my run. I crossed over it and glanced at the name place sign, Tripp's Run. I thought of Linda Tripp, Monica Lewinski's supposed friend and confidante who conspired to use the young intern to try to bring down the Clinton presidency. Word associations frequently occupy me whenever I run.

I started up the big hill, three-tenths of a mile long. It takes awhile to run a block in real time, even if you don’t notice it when you’re actually running, and I was in no hurry now. Inside the buzzing chamber, I thought that about three minutes had passed. I was satisfied with the progress of my run so far. More importantly, I was not focusing on the loud rasping noise assailing me and I was at peace as I lay still within the narrow tube.

Going up the big hill, steep at first, gentle in the middle and then steep again at the top, I ran by the house where the little dog always runs up and down the fence whenever I go by, barking at me. I hadn’t seen him for awhile. He didn’t come out again, and I hoped he was alright.

The hill evened out for a bit, then got steep again. This meant that I was passing the white-columned houses on the left and the top of the hill loomed ahead. Here I sidled across the road on a long diagonal to my left, cutting off a bit of the crest. The road dipped to the left beyond the summit and I ran down past the intersection that lies one and half kilometres from my house, the turnaround point for my 3K runs whenever I train for my monthly Tidal Basin race. A block further on I hit the mile marker and I checked my watch. About 8:10, I imagined. Damn hill. Now I needed to make up eleven seconds in the next mile and a half.

Around a further curve to the left, the school yard opened up before me. I ran to the top of the parking lot, eschewing backpedaling in this open protected area. Sometimes I pretend to be an NFL cornerback here, running backwards while keeping pace with a swift receiver, but not today because I was slightly behind schedule. I turned around and went back around the curves, down the long hill, past the creek, up my block and got back to my driveway. 19:50, hot damn!

The loud noise was still filling the chamber. Rather than be there, I slowed down for a cooldown jog, something I never do. I ran to the end of my block, where I used to wait with my oldest son for his school bus. I turned left to circle the block and ran past the house where my youngest played on the trampoline in the backyard. I wondered if it was still there. Next I ran down the slight decline where my middle child wiped out once on his razor scooter. I passed by the antique pickup truck emblazoned with Jesus Saves signs. I circled back to my driveway and arrived back, relaxed and loose from the slower paced recovery run. The buzzing was still surrounding me.

I walked down my driveway past my pickup. My backyard was strewn with fallen leaves. I checked beneath my towering old oak tree to see if any more branches had come down during the night. The ground underneath was clear.

The buzzing in my ears stopped. A voice said, "The test is over. You're coming out now."

I felt movement, then stillness again. I opened my eyes. The room's ceiling lights were high overhead. Two technicians helped me sit up.

"You were wonderful in there. You lay so still."

"How long was I in there?"

"About twenty-five minutes."

I smiled, happy and relaxed. "I went for a run," I explained. "I ran three miles in twenty-five minutes."

They didn't know what I was talking about. It was as real a run as I have ever been on. I'm counting those three miles in my weekly total.

I didn't run in this month's noontime Tidal Basin 3K race for the first time since September 2006. Back then I was out in California to run the Inaugural Disneyland Half-Marathon and see baseball games in three different baseball parks (Padres, Dodgers and A's). This month I had to file a case in Tampa for my agency. Sometimes work intrudes upon running. Don't you just hate it when that happens?

When I returned I jogged down to the Tidal Basin and lined up. 14:05 (7:33) later I was back, having completed my virtual race. Heh, heh, I beat my doppelganger Peter, who ran in the actual race, and he doesn't even know it.

Before I missed this month's actual race, I had run in 89 of the last 98 of these monthly races. So, how do I count this virtual race? Runners aren't obsessive, oh no.

Eight on the eighth. The Olympics started on 080808, so Non-Runner Nancy cooked up the virtual race of 8 miles on 8/8. Except anytime over the weekend would do. Like all virtual races, the rules are flexible. If you cheat, you're just cheating yourself. The point is participation.

I got up early and headed out to the W&OD Trail, a paved-over 40 miles former railroad bed that runs right behind my house. I was going to go sans shirt (it's August in DC, after all) but, unbelievably, it was cool out. So I slipped on my shirt and off I set. Four uneventful miles down the trail, at 33:32 I turned around. But my stomach was rumbling.

I started reviewing the possibilities. Walk 4 miles home. Take Metro back to near my house (didn't bring money or a farecard). Go into the EFC Metro stop when I passed it and beg them to let me use their WC (fat chance). Call someone to come get me (didn't bring my cell, just a Cliffshot, which I was not interested in at the moment). Hitchhike home (someone would pick up a sweat-soaked runner to sit in their car alright). Cry.

There was another possibility. I would pass by the Ranger Comfort Station in half a mile at Bluemont Park, which has running water. But would it be open before 8 a.m.? The Ranger vehicle was out front. That was a good sign. There were tennis players on the public courts. And there was an Army squad in the pavilion, taking their annual physical standards. Success. The heavily-padlocked bathroom door was unlocked.

Some people like to know where water fountains are on their customary routes. Since I always carry a half-liter bottle of water, I don't care about that. I like to know where the pit stops are.

I stopped my watch for my "rest." I had my Cliffshot. I have never consumed one before and it was awful. But then, so are GUs, which I normally eat. I'm leery of Cliffshots though, because they are rice-based. But it settled pretty well.

I watched a soldier do his push-up review. The Sgt. got down on all fours right in front of him and spoke quietly to him as he performed. Sweet nothings, I'm sure. He did 57. The first 40 push-ups were great, the last 17 were, well, not so great. The soldier was happy afterwards though, because 57 got him a score of 90.

Break time over, I clicked on my watch again and set off, feeling much better. I finished the eight miles back at my house at 1:08:18, not counting my ten minute "rest' stop.

What do you think? Am I cheating by reporting 1:08:18? If you're a purist, mark me down for a 1:18:18. I don't care. It was a nice run. Thanks to Nancy for setting it up.

Non-Runner Nancy is at it again, getting us couch potatoes out from in front of the TV and into the great outdoors. She fired the starter's gun for the third virtual race she has set up, Ten K on the Tenth.

Because the race has a caveman theme, I ran the 10K with my club yesterday, that is, with the 10K Group (TKG) Training Program my club puts on. It was the twelfth and last session before the target race, the Capitol Hill Classic 10K next Sunday. A group of 31 well intentioned souls had winnowed down to about eight runners who were apportioned out among up to five coaches each week. Since it was raining yesterday, the coach/runner ratio was an exceptionally high 1/1. Not even the promotion of handing out program t-shirts could induce a greater turnout in the drizzle (much less my promised Pre-Race Strategy lecture, which in the wet circumstances consisted of the exhortation to stay hydrated, remember your chip and be on time). (Left: I tested out the Program shirt last week at the Flying Pig Marathon in Cincinnati. It worked fine, and even drew comments from three passing runners over the saying on the back, Get Used to the View.)

Yesterday was a lovely day after a long cold winter. I was going to do a club 12K race mid-morning that runs on forest trails around a lake about thirty miles from my house but I got involved in projects and didn't go. Then I was going to do a long run, maybe a 16 or a 20-miler, but I didn't go out. I watched the day go by out a window.

Finally at 4 pm I decided to do a virtual 12K race to make up for the race I had not done earlier. It would be a very efficient "race" since there would be no transit or waiting around time. I went to the curb and set out.

I turned the first uphill mile in 8:18. It would have been faster but I passed by a penny and went back to retrieve it. A lucky penny, I hope.

I didn't know any more mile reference points til at 5 miles, I hit the W&OD Trail. At MP 8 on the trail, a mile from my house, I backtracked up a big hill to MP 8.5. Most satisfying, I passed one of those low-rider bicyclists on the hill.

"You need a lower gear," I said helpfully as I went by. He looked at me sharply. The tension on the trails between bikers and runners immediately came to the forefront.

"Actually I need a higher gear," he said. What the heck do I know?

Reversing course again at the half-mile marker, I ran back to MP 8, turning that mile in 8:48. I got home in 1:05:55, my 7.5 miles done at an 8:50 pace. Not exactly race pace, but good enough for a decent outing on a glorious afternoon.

Tonight after work I ran from Union Station to the Watergate where I met up with Sasha to run on the Mall. She calls this run Monday Night Footmall. We ran up behind the Capitol and back, nine miles for me in 1:26 (9:33). Sasha definitely was leading and I had to force myself to keep up, thinking I used to be faster than her. The darkness, uneven surfaces and hills were all bothering me.

Afterwards I jumped on a subway and rode to my stop. The car was too crowded for anyone to be able to move away from me in my sweaty clothes. Then I ran from the station to my house, a familiar mile even in the dark, in 7:25. That was a nice cap to my evening.

This weekend there were two races I wanted to do, a club half-marathon on Saturday and a metric marathon today. But since I didn't want to pay $40 for the metric marathon, and I like to do the worst first, I flipped the races and ran them both as virtuals yesterday and today.

The club Half would have been free for me since I'm a club member. Can you imagine, a free supported Half-Marathon? For non-members, it's $5. You can read the metric marathon account (and splits) in my last post.

That's a lot of running for me for a weekend, 16.3 miles and 13.1 miles back-to-back. I lay in bed a long time this morning feeling cozy and warm before I finally arose, laced up my Brooks Addictions and headed out to MP 7 on the W&OD Trail behind my house. After my virtual metric marathon of 2:19:58 (8:36) yesterday, I was sore and listless today. No energy. (Left: MP 7 on the W&OD on the bridge. Beyond, the blue & red sign in the second storey window is one of the two Bikram Yoga studios in the DC area. Once you do your 14 miles by running to the trail's head and back, you could go over there to get relief for your aches and pains by doing deep stretching routines in Hot Yoga.)

That was immediately apparent as my splits today started out about 30 seconds slower than yesterday's. Going to the turnaround at the trail's end, I ground out 8:30, 8:38, 8:38, 8:44, 8:44, 8:30 and 8:49. 1:00:35 (8:39) for seven miles, 3:19 slower than yesterday.

Coming back was just a slog. I felt like I was deep in the throes of a marathon and I worked on resisting the urge to walk. 8:57, 8:47, 9:07, 9:02, 9:14, 9:19, 9:14, with a finishing time of 2:04:19 (8:53) for 14 miles. A slippage of 4:37 from yesterday. My pace was off by 20 seconds per mile a day after running 16 miles. (Below: Looking WB on the W&OD Trail in Falls Church.)

Along the way, I passed by my virtual half-marathon finish line in 1:56:05 (8:52). Too bad I couldn't claim the time I passed the same line yesterday, 1:51:40, but yesterday I was working on my virtual metric marathon and you can only do one race at a time.

I just wanted to break two hours for the half today. I also wanted to see if I could do two long races, albeit virtuals, in two days. I have run thirty miles for the weekend and dropped nine pounds since Friday. I'm going out for pizza now.

I thought that maybe running 14 miles in 1:57:26 (8:23) with M last Friday might have been an anomaly--a good training run time created by running with a considerably faster runner, having a huge tailwind for half the run, and benefiting from the subtle ministrations of M talking me past the wall as I started my typical plodding routine around the thirteenth mile.

The truth is, I haven't been pleased with my running for awhile. I was starting to suspect that maybe I was falling prey to, well, getting old. Or that perhaps my pre-race dinners of Cheez-Its and Millers were starting to catch up with me.

So this morning I set out to recreate that run alone, as part of a slightly longer run that simulated a metric marathon being held tomorrow in Columbia. That way I would save two hours driving time, gas and the $40 entry fee. I call these runs "virtual" races and I do two or three each year. 26.2 KM is 16.28 miles, BTW.

Off I set from MP 7 on the W&OD Trail behind my house. Last week's splits are listed in my last post. Today they went like this: 7:59, 7:59, 8:07, 8:13, 8:19, 8:20, 8:18 to the turnaround at MP 0 in Shirlington. 57:16 (8:11) for seven miles compared to 55:44 (7:58) a week ago. Not bad so far. I have run in three actual 7-mile races, and this would still be my second best one.

Coming back I headed into a strong wind (again) and slowed down considerably: 8:44, 8:52, 8:47, 8:50, 9:01, 9:07, 9:02 for a fourteen mile total of 1:59:42 (8:33) compared to last week's 1:57:26 (8:23). So running with a faster runner is worth about 10 seconds per mile. (Left: Looking WB on the W&OD Trail about 400 meters before the bicycle bridge.)

I stupidly hadn't brought water and I longed to go into my house at this point to get some, but I knew that if I stopped now, I'd never return to the run. I had brightly brought a solitary Gu though, and although it was hard to get down sans water, consuming it in the twelfth mile revived me and enabled me to finish the run.

A further mile out, and back again, and a guesstimate quarter-mile route to the 7-11 store brought me to the end of my virtual metric marathon in 2:19:58 (8:36). I have done one actual metric marathon and I missed beating that time by 15 seconds. Dang! I got some work to do.

Chicago got bad reviews. I'm back to running after the debacle of Chicago.

Thank God I only do marathons once because I don't ever want to go back there to run that marathon again. Here's what the director of the Chicago Marathon had to say to us about our "experience."

There's a lot of the "I" word in there from Mr. Pinkowski. Do you see a hint of an apology? A scintilla of a mea culpa? Any indication that they might have screwed up? Any word that they're going to do better next time? Any offer of a future consideration? I don't.

The system broke down due to high but predictable water consumption rates by runners and there was no means to get fluids to the back-end runners, who are the very lifeblood of this World Marathon Majors race. These runners, paying their hefty entry fees, create the huge cash pot that fuels the enormously lucrative World Majors standings from which Chicago benefits so much. Past Olympic Marathon champion Frank Shorter wrote an article which is a much better elucidation on what happened at Chicago, with a blueprint for lessons to be learned from it.

Chicago is a great city. On the other hand, Chicago was a great place to visit, its people were fabulous (like New Yorkers, except they'll actually stop, listen and answer your questions--polite midwesterners, you know) and the crowd support for its great run was stupendous. Yay for Chicagoans! They rose to the occasion. As I travelled through the battle zone that was the back end of the Chicago Marathon (prone bodies scattered about), every downed runner I saw was being attended to by somebody.

My virtual 5K. But I haven't come to bury Caesar. After literally limping out of Chicago a week ago with my worst time in my last half-dozen marathons, watching four toenails turn a deep ebony and another four turn various shades of mottled purple, I ran a race today. It was what I call a virtual race, a run in my location that equates in time, distance and topography to a race being held elsewhere. Take your pick, I either ran the new course at the Maryland Race for the Cure 5K in Hunt Valley, MD (north of Baltimore), or the 5K version of the Second Annual Phedippidations World Wide Half Marathon.

RFTC5Ks. I enjoy doing Race for the Cure 5Ks around the country. I have done them in DC, Baltimore, Denver, Columbus, Minneapolis, Princeton, New York, Philadelphia and Richmond. I didn't go to this year's Maryland RFTC because I would have had to get up at 4 am to drive there and gas would have cost me $20 (thanks W for war and high gasoline prices) on top of the $40 entry fee. Sixty dollars for an ugly t-shirt.

Charlie. My good running friend Charlie (I'll actually run with him someday soon because I have recurring business in Denver currently) introduced me to the notion of the Phedippidations World Wide Half Marathon which is being "run" this weekend. It has a 5K component. I can't log onto the race's site for some reason but I get the point.

Running in Denver. As recovery after my marathon last Sunday, I ran a mile on Tuesday and was pleased to bring it in under eight minutes (7:56). On Wednesday I was in Denver taking depositions and I cleared my head after an all day session of sparring with lawyers (just poke me in the eye with that sharp stick now) by running a nice easy three miles at a ten-minute pace along the Platte River with my co-counsel L. I got stuck in Denver an extra night because I missed my plane out of there on Thursday (DIA is a long way from Denver) but yesterday morning I ran another mile and a half at a 7:30 pace. I was feeling much better than during the first few miles of the marathon because my cold is almost all gone now.

The race. I figure the Maryland RFTC must be flat. The Phedippidations race, being a virtual creation in the first case, is anything I want it to be. How about flat? At 9 am sharp I set off from the end of my driveway and ran up to the W&OD Trail. There I pushed the pace down its straight and flat length to the turnaround point at 11:24. I managed a negative split of 11:16 on the return because some of the last quarter mile is sort of downhill. 22:40 for my virtual 5K. It felt great.

Susan. But before anyone says, Great Job (any time under 23:00 is a great time for me, my PR is 21:58 set in 2001), I think my "course" might be a little short. But still I was really working hard, thinking of Elijah and his battles as I tired. My good running friend Susan acquainted me with Elijah's courage (perhaps you know that my life is a search for heroes. Elijah is one). I know I had a good hard run.

I come to bury Chicago, not to praise it. As for Chicago, I want to forget it. I'll tell you this fact. Running long while on antibiotics is no fun.

What is a virtual race?

That's what I call a "race" I run of a real event that I don't attend due to cost, distance or circumstances. It's a run that I do by myself in a local venue of equivalent distance as the actual event. My "race" starts on the same date and at the same time as the specified program. Later I look up the results and see where I would have placed.

Although it's more than a tempo run, I rarely go at actual "race pace" because when I'm running alone it's hard to force myself to go at that effort for the entire distance. That's why I'm always slower in a virtual race than I would be at the real race. Or at least that's what I tell myself.

I do two or three "virtual races" a year of real races that I wish I were actually running. Although my times are unofficial, of course, and I don't count them for PRs, I do record them in my personal results because my running mindset during them is different from even a hard training run. I call each one the "Virtual [insert name of actual race here]".

Virtual races are fun. They enable me to participate in any race in the world. One rule I have is that I always try to approximate the actual terrain of the race.

For instance, last May 21st, I "went" to Wheeling, WV and "ran" in the Ogden Newspapers 20K Classic. Only I ran it on the last half of the first National Marathon course here in the DC area. This superseded course is devilishly hilly, as I imagine any race in West Virginia must be.

I remember it was already hot on that Sunday morning when I pushed off at 8 am from the "starting line" at the John Philip Sousa Bridge on Pennsylvania Avenue. I ran over the shimmering water of the Anacostia River and turned north at Minnesota Avenue. That was the end of any level running.

Running alone through the blighted streets of SE and on the soulless highways in PG County was depressing. I didn't see one other runner during the entire time and pedestrians seemed surprised to see me running by. Several cars honked and drivers gesticulated at me to get out of the way.

I wilted on the hellacious hills east of the Anacostia, especially the gargantuan one in Fort Dupont. I hit it in my third mile and could barely manage it. As I ground up it, I reflected on my friend Bex's first marathon on the same course two months earlier. I pictured her running up the same hill in the fourteenth mile, alone, hair flying, right knee severely gashed from a fall, with the seven hills of hell on Central Avenue still to come in the last six miles. I wondered if her first marathon had scarred her for life, then I remembered her tremendous resolve and decided, Naww.

An hour later I was on those same infamous hills, only I thankfully reached the "end" of my 20K race on the third hill. I barely shuffled over the imaginary finish line in 1:59:47, a gruesome 9:38 pace. If it hadn't been a "race" I would have quit the run long before that. I gratefully boarded Metro to ride back to my car in the District.

Oh, I placed 402/617 in the Virtual 2006 Ogden Newspapers 20K Classic. Not a good showing at all.