What I've Learned About Myself

A note from J.B.: You can always tell when I am about to embark upon a long, introspective blog post when I start it off with the disclaimer, "I'm not a runner."

I'm not a runner. I never have been and I never will be. That's a pretty common theme throughout any blog posts I have done or running-related conversations I've had with people. I have a wide frame, short legs and a few extra pounds than I'd like. While I'm most definitely not a runner, I do run. And, when I'm training for a race or an event such as Ragnar, I'd even go out on a limb and say that I run a lot.

I first started running "regularly" when I began training for Team Chasqui's first Ragnar, the 2008 Wasatch Back. Since then, I have suffered shin splints, side cramps, Iliotibial Band Syndrome, heat exhaustion, and getting my butt hairs tied in knots. I have changed my stride and style of running, my breathing pattern and my preferred genre of running music on multiple occasions.

So here I am a good couple of years later. While I don't weigh significantly less than I did before taking up a more active lifestyle, I am leaner, stronger and in much better shape. On top of that, my running pace has probably dropped a modest minute or so, from "hella effin' slow" to "eh, he gets through it".

Most importantly however, my running and cycling experiences have given me an immense education on my body and my mind.

That was a long introduction; now, here's the meat of my post.

That's what she said.

Ah, c'mon!

Okay, here we go.

I remember one Sunday afternoon at the Duff Dome when Chasquis Warren, Heather, Dennis and myself were lounging in the family room talking about the upcoming 2009 Wasatch Back. We were talking about runner placement, who runs most efficiently on which types of legs, etc.

I asserted, and partially made the excuse that, the more shorter 3-4 mile legs that I have, the better. That's where I'm efficient. That's about the distance that I can give it my all and go full boar without bonking. I think I even went so far as to compare myself to a time-trialist in cycling. (embarrassed now, cause that's SOOOOO not the case) But that's the case that I made.

What I've learned since then, is that I was dead wrong, and the reason I was wrong surprised me. What I've learned is that it all has to do with what we call "the warm up".

If you've been to a Ragnar with me, you've heard me preach, "Don't get too amped up and sprint out of the gates." This is sound, sound advice. It's advice that I tried to follow, but didn't. Well, not nearly enough, at least. Not in racing. Not in training.

See, I always feel like I'm recovering from an injury, and am therefore totally scared to "over-do it". Therefore, I tend to limit myself to 2 and 3-mile runs until I'm feeling real good and uber-confident. Only then do I start upping the mileage. The funny thing is that I was struggling through these 2 and 3-milers. I was getting tired/crampy/owie halfway through my run and I couldn't figure out why.

The reason is this: Hey, it's just a short distance, right? I can run at full stride straight out of my front door, right?

In the words of Lex Luther: WROOOOOOOOONNNNNNG!!!!

My problem was that, because I was running such a short distance, I could justify running straight out the door at a 9 minute pace (<<<---insert your idea of a fast pace here). By the time I was half way through my run, I was blasted. Oxygen deficit. Done. Cooked.

It's when I set out for my longer runs that I really notice the difference. Because I know I'm going to be putting in some extra miles, I start out real slow; I almost deliberately stay at a 10 minute pace or slower for the first mile or so. Then, something clicks and I'm feeling great and I can generally coast for a while as 311/Jimmy Eat World/Blink 182/Angels & Airwaves rattle my eardrums.

I first realized this magic a few weeks ago when I set out for a 5 mile run around my neighborhood. These were my splits:

Mile 1 Avg pace: 9:54
Mile 2 9:36
Mile 3 9:34
Mile 4 9:21
Mile 5 8:26

Counter-intuitively, I got faster each mile!.Quite a difference from the 3-miler I had put in just a few days prior:

Mile 1 Avg pace: 9:30
Mile 2 10:35
Mile 3 10:04

And there are many more 2 or 3-milers in my log very similar to that.

After looking at these numbers and developing the theory that I'm currently explaining, I decided to put it to the real test: running 6 miles for the first time in I have no idea how long.

Here's how it panned out:

Mile 1 Avg pace: 9:42
Mile 2 9:42
Mile 3 9:50
Mile 4 9:29
Mile 5 9:42
Mile 6 9:11

What sums up the story for me is the fact that after 5 miles, I had enough in the tank to pull my fastest pace during mile 6.

So for me, at least, the key is a deliberately slow start that will leave plenty in the tank for a strong finish. I've been able to do it in my training; the challenge will be transferring it to race day when the adrenalin is pumping and I want to fly out of the chute.

Now that I think about it, everyone in the world has probably figured this out but me and are chuckling to themselves as they read this. Oh well.

If you made it this far, thanks for reading my story.