Making the Connection

For the past week or so the news has been a buzz with stories about Lake Champlain reaching record high water levels.  Roads are closed, schools have shut down, and homes have flooded.  Running in the uplands of Worcester I find myself far removed from this reality but I can't help but wonder what factors lead to the Lake reaching such high levels.  Firstly I considered the weather patterns of the past few months.  We certainly got a lot of late snow this year and have had a pretty rainy spring.  But we've seen patterns like this before and not had much of a problem so I put some more thought into it.  It wasn't long before I considered a more likely culprit: impervious runoff.

It may seem like a small contributor to the problem but it's much larger than you think.  Impervious cover comprises a large percentage of the Lake Champlain Watershed.  Every road, parking lot, and roof is included in this number and each adds cumulatively to the total amount of water draining to the Lake.  As opposed to pervious cover such as lawns, grasslands, and forests which provide water an opportunity to filter into the ground and be absorbed by the soil and taken up by plants, impervious cover simply provides a surface on which water can move.  And in many cases, this surface moves water straight into a stormdrain and then directly into nearby streams via a pipe or culvert.  It's no wonder why the lake is so high.  We are essentially capturing stormwater and funneling it right to the Lake.

Luckily, there are some folks trying to deal with this exact problem.  Many municipalities have enacted regulations which ensure that new developments mitigate impervious cover.  A few organizations, such as WNRCD and Friends of the Winooski River, have been promoting rain barrels and rain gardens.  Even the State of Vermont has provided some guidance on low impact development practices that can be used to mitigate stormwater.  I guess we just have to hope that these actions haven't come too late.  As we've found with phosphorous in the Lake, maintaining current levels is difficult enough.  Bringing those levels down is near impossible.

Trading Endurance for Speed

Over the course of the past few weeks, I have been thinking a lot about my running and the next few months ahead.  I just hit 600 miles and have been running for close to four months now so it's only natural to reflect a little bit on the past and set some goals for the future. 

In thinking about my running so far, I've come to realize that although the quantity of miles has been high, the quality has been actually pretty low.  As you may remember, for much of January and February I was injured and had to really cut back on my pace.  When March hit, I picked up the pace a little, but not quite as much as I should have.  As a result, my body has become really accustomed to running long, slow miles which has unfortunately turned me into a long, slow distance runner.  If I was simply running for fitness, this wouldn't be a bad thing.  However, I still enjoy the thrill of competition and pride myself on being able to run up there with some of the big dogs (well maybe some of the smaller ones with a loud bark).

So now I'm faced with the challenge of trading in some of my endurance for speed.  This is not an easy task but it's a sure fire way to improve your running.  Firing those muscles at a much higher intensity leads to an increase in fast twitch muscle fibers, strength, and power.  I can most easily liken this process to that of sap production in the spring, which anyone who's ever sugared should be able to appreciate.  Maple trees go into a somewhat dormant period for much of the winter.  They bide their time, siphoning off just enough of their reserves to stay alive (kind of like endurance running).  When the days warm up and the sun rises on the horizon, their roots kick into action and start moving water and nutrients under the layer of bark.  This in turn mixes with simple sugars and creates what we know as sap.  Once that sap starts flowing, the rest of the tree bursts to life and another season of growth begins (here's the speed work). 

Running without speed work is like a tree with no spring.  Sure you can get by, but you'll never see the growth you are looking for.  If you really want to up the ante, you've got to change things up a bit, whether you're a maple tree or a runner. 

Marching On

Hello again friends.  It's been a short while since my last post and I have so much to share.  The first is that we had a great run at the Intervale.  Lynne Wolfe from the Conservation Nursery gave us a fantastic tour of their operation which started at the greenhouse and then went out to the growing fields.  They've got a great supply of elderberries, dogwoods, and other species which are typically used for riparian restoration projects throughout the state.  We then ran a little further down the main road to a portion of field that is badly eroding out due to a lack of structural vegetation.  It was a great segway into the importance of riparian buffers and sparked some good discussion.  Thanks Lynne, Jenna, and Tim for coming along.

The second is that I turned 30 on March 24 and in honor of that milestone birthday I celebrated by running 30 miles.  Dean Karnazes, whose claim to fame is running 50 marathons in 50 states in 50 days, did the exact same thing on his 30th birthday so I figured  I'd give it a try.  Surprisingly it wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be, despite hitting a definite wall at about mile 21.  Luckily I had a good supply of carbs and electrolytes which allowed me to keep pressing on until a second wind could catch hold.  Probably the worst part, and I assume this is the same with anyone who trains at distances in the 20 mile range and higher, is that there's no fanfare.  When you run a marathon, there's typically hordes of people cheering you on and providing that little extra boost to your morale when you need it.  On a solo 30 mile run, there's little to no external motivation (aside from a few horn honks which scare you more than help you).  There are no fans cheering you on or medals waiting for you at the finish line.  It's simply you, the road, and a little voice telling you to call it quits cause it's not worth it.  Luckily the latter can be drowned out with a sizable dose of Bon Jovi streaming through the iPod (never leave home without it). 

The third is that I'm officially over the 500 mile mark which means I am 1/4 of the way to my goal.  Hard to believe that there's still just under 1500 miles to go.  It's always daunting when I think about it.  Perhaps it won't seem so bad when there's only 1000 left but I doubt it.

Until the next one...see you on the road.

Dreaming of the Beech

With daylight savings now in full swing, my nightly frolics through the pitch black have thankfully come to an end.  For the past few weeks I have really enjoyed the extra light at the end of the day.  In addition to lifting my spirits, the additional sun has allowed me to really start observing the landscape around me.  Most recently, I've noticed that a good number of the Beech and Oak trees (particularly the juvenile ones) still magically have their leaves. Through ice, wind, and heavy snow, those little leaves somehow managed to hold on. Remarkably, no one really knows why. Some people think that Beech and other species of Oak don't form an abscission layer in the fall like other species do. Other's claim that the vascular tissue connecting the leaf to the woody stem is simply stronger in Beech and Oak. And even others wonder if Oaks and Beeches are still evolving from their evergreen ancestors (in fact some species of Oak are still evergreens).  Whatever the case may be, it's quite inspirational, especially in those moments when my legs are failing and every step is a laborious task.  When I get to that point, I look around at the Beech trees and get the little extra boost I need to hold on just a little longer.

Getting Back in the Swing of Things

This past Saturday, I was awakened at 5:30 in the morning by the annoying beep of my alarm clock.  I dragged myself out of bed, put on some running tights and a few warm layers, and made my way to the kitchen.  Already, my stomach was twisting in knots in anticipation of what was to come, an arduous 13.1 mile run on snowshoes.  I managed to down a banana but was not so successful with the oatmeal made the night before.  I took a few exploratory bites, felt my nerves take over, and put it back in the fridge.  I gathered the rest of my gear, stocked up on food for after the race, filled my waterbottles, and loaded the car.  During the hour long drive down to Pittsfield, I pondered a number of questions.  Would the course be hilly?  Would the trails be groomed?  Who would be there?  Would it actually rain?  How hard could snowshoeing 13.1 miles really be?  I almost made myself believe that knowing these answers would somehow make the task at hand easier, although deep down I knew that at this point none of it really mattered.  I would get there, toe the line, and deal with whatever came my way.  The training was done, the miles logged, and no amount of extra information was going to change the outcome.

When I arrived, I was of course 45 minutes early which left me plenty of time to continue my ruminations, much to my chagrin.  So I tried to distract myself.  I stood by the fire for awhile.  I look at the trail map.  I drank some water.  I envied all the nice racing snowshoes.  Nothing worked.  It wasn't until the starter yelled GO that the nerves finally went away and the thrill of running took it's place.

The start was a bit hairy.  We immediately ran into a short narrow downhill shoot of sorts which opened up into a wide snowmobile trail for about .25 miles before transitioning back into single track trail.  Wanting to position myself well, I went out with the lead pack and kept pace with them for about a half mile.  I watched two of them fade away as we made our way up the steep terrain.  My pace slowed to what seemed like a crawl and my breathing became labored.  I expected it to be hard, but not this hard.  I looked back to see if anyone else was feeling the same way and was a little encouraged to see only one other person shadowing behind me.  The rest had fallen back significantly.  I could only hope that I wouldn't do the same.

At the top of the mountain, my muscles were burning.  After 4.5 miles, I had maintained my position but knew that I would have a hard time keeping it with my shadow still on my heels.  So I opened it up on the downhill portions of the trail and tried to put some distance between us.  Unfortunately, it was to no avail.  Around mile 6, he caught up and we had a brief chat.  I learned that he and the other two ahead of us were running the marathon.  It was a little discouraging at first to learn that they were running twice the distance and doing it much faster than me.  But, the silver lining was that I was first in the half marathon. 

At 6.55 miles I was back at the start and heading into a second lap.  Knowing what was ahead of me helped out a little, but not much.  Knowing that there is a giant hill to climb might mentally prepare you, but it doesn't do much for you physically.  So I hunkered down and kept on trudging through the snow.  On most of the hills I actually walked if you can believe it.  When I did the Vermont 50 Miler, I learned that neat trick from Jack Pilla right before he continued on his way.  You expend a lot less energy with little loss in time.  In any case, I quickly found myself back on top of the hill and cruising down the other side.  The only thing keeping me going was the constant fear that someone would catch me in the last mile or two.  I looked back a few times (although I know not to) and saw no one behind me.  I dragged myself across the line in roughly 2 hours and 10 minutes with a first place finish.

After many years away from the racing scene, it felt good to win a race again (despite the fact that the marathoners were so much faster).  It was a nice reminder that despite putting on a few years and a few pounds, running is still at the core of my being.     

The Harshness of Feburary

February is officially over and despite my best efforts I was not able to make up the four mile deficit from January.  In fact, I added to the deficit with another four miles bringing me to just over eight miles behind my two month goal.  When I had just started recovering from my short bout of runner's knee I somehow strained my calf.  I tried to run through the discomfort but thought better of it after a few days of serious pain.  I struggled getting back out on the road for a week or so and was disheartened when I looked at my mileage log and found myself 28 miles behind target.  In the moment, it seemed insurmountable and I started to question whether 2011 miles was even possible. Then, the pain in the calf eased up and I was able to slowly climb back out of the hole I had put myself in.  It wasn't an easy task, and even now it continues to be a struggle.  Psychologically,  I am having a hard time taking days off or even reducing my mileage knowing that I'm behind.  Physiologically,  I've run for the past 18 days and my body is telling me that I should take a break.  This tension has put me in a tough spot.  I can only hope that somehow March will turn things around.   If not, at least I have 9 more months ahead of me.  Hard to tell if that's a good or bad thing.

Melting Away

Sand and dirt on Shady Rill Road

With the unseasonably warm weather last week, I couldn't help but notice the large buildup of dirt and sand along the roadside.  I see this every year and usually just complain about it as being unsightly.  But this time I  decided to take some photos and do a little thinking on the matter.  What I realized was that most of this is the result of sanding.  With each snow storm, a fresh layer of sand and dirt is sprayed on our roadways in an effort to keep us safe and provide traction in icy conditions.  In any given pass, it's really a small amount that's put down.  Most times it's barely even noticeable but it does the trick.  Over the course of the winter that sand builds up, layering itself in the ice and snow.  When the temperature rises to above freezing, the ice and snow melts, carrying with it the trapped sand (which has unfortunately picked up traces of gas and oil from our cars).  Slowly but surely that sand makes its way into roadside ditches and in many cases nearby streams, negatively impacting fish and water quality.

A build up of sand near Martin's Brook

It's a serious issue for sure, one that we can do little to stop.  The reality is that sand is a necessary part of our transportation system in the winter.  As with many environmental issues, the best we can do is use good science to inform our practices and hope that we've at least lessened our impact.  It's a hard reality to face but one that we must.  We can't win every battle, but we can certainly win the war.

Discussions About Berlin Pond

On Monday, I got the chance to run with a few dedicated individuals who make a habit of meeting up every Monday night to take a jaunt around Berlin Pond.  I must say, I found it very refreshing to run in a group again, especially in such great company.  They were welcoming, jovial, and asked lots of questions.  My kind of people. 

Along the way, we talked a little bit about Berlin Pond.  If you didn't know this, Berlin Pond has been a main source of drinking water for the City of Montpelier since 1884.  To ensure that the water stayed pristine, the City purchased and worked to conserve a large percentage of the surrounding landscape.  Today, there is roughly 3,000 acres of undeveloped land surrounding the pond.  In addition, the City imposed restrictions on the use of the pond, effectively banning swimming, fishing, and various forms of recreation.  Recently, these restrictions came under fire when individuals wanted to use the pond for ice fishing and kayaking.  The result was a court hearing which ultimately lead to a judge upholding the City's ban on public use.

I've been reading a number of articles about the issue and it seems that people are all across the board on the issue.  Some want it to be open for public use and don't see the harm, others think that allowing recreation will degrade the pond, and some think that Montpelier should get their water from somewhere else.  I certainly have my own opinion on the matter but would love to hear yours.  What do you think?  Should Berlin Pond be opened up for recreation?  Leave some thoughts.

For more info, check out the Berlin Pond Watershed Conservation Plan.

One Month Down

As my first order of business, I want to thank everyone who came out on Saturday to run with me in Burlington.  It was an awesome run along the waterfront.  I hope you learned a lot about the lake, phosphorous, and what's being done about it.  Perhaps we'll see you again at the next one.

Secondly, I want to thank the folks at the ECHO center for providing free passes and the Skirack for providing us with some space at the Banff Film Festival.  Much appreciated.  

Lastly, we've got one month down ladies and gentleman with 11 more to go.  I ran a total of 166.1 miles in January and it was hard going for most of it.  I developed a case of runner's knee, strained my achilles, and came down with a cold.  That left me 4.4 miles behind my goal for the month.  Guess I'll just have to make it up over the course of the next few weeks.  Running 5.5 a day is a lot harder than I thought it would be.

Discoveries in the Bitter Cold

Monday,  I had the wonderful privilege of running six miles at an astounding 10 degrees below zero.  I headed out for my run at about 5:00 pm and despite being chilled to the bone, I actually enjoyed it.  There's simply nothing quite like it.  The cold seems to have this phenomenal way of heightening your senses.  The wind feels sharper, the air seems crisper, and the stars look a little brighter.  It's like someone  pulls away the veil and suddenly you are aware for the first time.

I had that same feeling earlier in the day on my drive to work.  I was sitting in my car, waiting for the light to turn green, and then suddenly noticed exhaust billowing out from the truck in front of me.  I watched it for a few seconds and then turned away only to see similar results from other cars on the road.  Car after car coughing up toxic fumes all around me.  Thinking I could escape the scene I looked towards the Montpelier skyline only to be greeted by plumes of smoke and steam spewing out of the distant buildings.  As I sat there, contemplating the environmental impacts of the human machine, I couldn't help but think that on a warmer day the issue of air pollution probably wouldn't have even entered my purview.

Sadly to say, that seems to be the case for many environmental issues.  All too often they only seem to exist when they are staring us straight in the face and we have no choice but to stare straight back.  It's partially because a lot of issues are invisible to the naked eye (carbon dioxide, phosphorous, etc.) but also because we have become so numb to them that it's takes something absolutely shocking to get our attention.  As an example, how many times a day do we drive or walk by a stray piece of trash and simply disregard it.  Would our reaction change if it turned into a pile or even mountain?
    
Image from: Day in Pictures January 24, 2011 <http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-12266102>

Running Through the Doldrums

If you've ever tried running consistently you might agree with me that the first two to three weeks are quite simply the worst.  You're out of breath after every run, your muscles are sore, and you feel like you couldn't possibly run any faster.  It's a depressing time and a hard one to get through and I think that's why most folks dismiss running so quickly.  However, if you are steadfast and stay on track, you'll catch your breath.  Your muscles will become less sore and you'll push the pace a little more each day.  What was once a two mile crucible will turn into a five mile cruiser.

Over the course of the past 15 years, I've stopped and started running more times than I can count.  I've been through the doldrums many times and have found that perseverance always wins out.  Keep at it and eventually you'll get to a point where your runs feel great.  Maybe I'll meet you there in another week or so.

  

Duck, Duck, Goose, Goose

So you may be thinking that this post will be about ducks, but actually it has nothing to do with them.  And oddly enough, it doesn't have anything to do with geese either.  However, it does have something to do with goose eggs, which some runners use as code for those dreadful days where zeros creep into your training schedule.  I unfortunately had two such days last week.

When I was a bit younger and running a bit more competitively, zero mileage days would shine like giant beacons of disappoint from my running log.  Even with my eyes shut tight I could see them, a constant reminder of the gaping holes I had created in my training.  Now, I take them in stride.  Perhaps it's age or perhaps it's experience, either way I don't see a problem anymore with taking days off from time to time.  Besides, it wasn't laziness or lack of motivation that kept me from running two days in a row (which does happen more then we'd like), but a swelling of my knee and a burning pain in my achilles which came about from probably being a little too ambitious in my pacing on some of my longer runs.

In any case, I took some needed rest, came back at a slower pace, and know that those two gaping holes will quickly be filled in the coming weeks.

Fear of the Dark

It's now Wednesday and I have successfully run for the past four days.  Not much to write home about but a victory nonetheless given my inconsistent mileage leading up to this point.  As much as I adore running, I've always found it difficult to stay consistent during the week.  I've tried running in the morning, running at lunch, and running in the evening.  In all cases, there is some factor that discourages my better half from making a consorted effort to force me out the door.  In the morning it's the difficulty of waking up.  At lunch, it's my pleading stomach, and at night it's the ominous darkness.  The latter was especially prevalent this Tuesday.

I got home at about 5:10 and immediately headed out the door.  There was still a bit of light on the horizon but I brought my headlamp knowing that the light would soon fade out over the mountains.  I decided to do a quick five miles and headed down a familiar route.  I ran for most of it with my headlamp off, soaking in the freedom of the darkness and listening to the rush of the nearby stream.  Although I was wearing a bright yellow reflective running top, I would quickly turn on my headlamp for approaching cars and turn it off as they passed.  It doesn't hurt to be extra safe.  By the time I hit mile four, it was difficult to see but I had become accustomed to it.  I was truly enjoying being one with the darkness.  Soon after, I felt a sudden tug at my ankles.  I felt a rush of adrenaline in my body and a chill as I exclaimed loudly (and at quite a high pitch I might add).  Could it be a coyote?  A bobcat?  Perhaps a fabled mountain lion?  No, it was but a small black dog who thought it would be funny to surprise me in the night.  I laughed to myself as he followed me part of the way home.   My headlamp stayed on for the rest of the run.

2011 Is Off and Running!

Happy New Year everyone.  Today was just a fantastic start to 2011.  I woke up at about 7:00 this morning in a rustic cabin nestled deep within the Green Mountain National Forest.  I was fortunate enough to be able to spend New Years Eve with my fiancee and some close friends at a family camp down in East Wallingford.  After a relaxing morning, I scarfed down some bacon and chocolate pancakes, said my goodbyes, and skied the roughly two miles out to the car.  Two hours later, I was home in Worcester with my running shoes on and one foot out the door.

It was about 42 degrees as I took my first few steps down the driveway.  I thought I'd get ahead of the game with a long run today so I took my time and ran a slow pace to start.  One and a half miles in I was just starting to hit my stride and kicked it up to a moderate pace.  At three miles I was dreading the hilly roads of Middlesex but still feeling strong.  Five miles later most of the hills were behind me and I slipped into a steady cadence.  A slight rain fell at mile 11 as I passed my house and mad the decision to put in an additional mile for good measure.

12 miles under my belt today and many more to go.  It's been over a year since I've ran that kind of mileage  and I may be regretting it tomorrow but sometimes you just have to let the momentum take you.
Besides, it feels good to be under the 2000 mark after the first day.

Cheers,

Justin