Final chip time: 57:53.8 (9:19/mile)

Context

After running the Flying Pig Half Marathon in May, I decided to take on a shorter race in the late summer. The Little Miami 10K is flat and close to home, and it seemed like a good opportunity to test my speed and endurance.

I last ran a 10K in 2022 (the Redlegs Run, which loops through downtown Cincinnati and ends at home plate in Great American Ballpark), and I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. My time (1:09:14) reflected that. At today’s Little Miami 10K, I wanted to at least improve on that time. Ideally, I wanted to finish the race at 59:00 or better—a goal that felt attainable based on some of my recent runs.

Training

I didn’t adopt a specific training plan this summer. Instead, I combined regular runs (speed, tempo, and long) with cross-training on the rower. I did, however, have a gait analysis done on my running form, and one of the DPT’s comments stuck with me: “Given your aerobic base, your race times should be faster than they are.” And so I’ve been trying to push my speed while also paying attention to contributing factors (hydration, nutrition, sleep) when runs go poorly. I also changed shoes, moving to the New Balance 1080v13. I need to incorporate more strength training into my schedule, but I haven’t done so yet.

The Race

The Little Miami race begins in the small town of Morrow, which is about 40 minutes north of Cincinnati. The race quickly loops through downtown Morrow and then goes out and back on the Little Miami Scenic Trail. The paved trail is mostly shaded, and the race is small enough that the trail rarely felt crowded. It’s a nice scenic run.

The smaller race also allowed me to focus on negative splits, which turned out well:

1. 9:46
2. 9:37
3. 9:26
4. 9:13
5. 9:09
6. 8:45

At mile two I worried that I was increasing the pace too quickly, but the run felt easy so I stayed with it. Miles three and four felt like work but didn’t tire me. At mile five I started pushing, but I didn’t feel gassed at the end of race—which means I still have a lot to learn about perceived effort and pacing.

I’m also learning that races are good for motivation and accountability. They give me something to work toward, and they help me to measure my progress in a competitive but supportive atmosphere. I hope to do one more before the year’s end.

“Well, actually, this is sort of a departure from the rest of the record, and it’s kind of a mellow tune.”

I love these moments: when an artist is close enough to the recording sessions to perfectly recreate the recorded song, but also new enough to the song to keep the initial magic intact. And in this case, the “departure” would chart the rest of the band’s career.

“Ain’t That Unusual” is the best song on this album, but “Name” is thoroughly 1995s rock radio.

I love excerpt-from-a-house-show YouTube videos, and this one—of Paul Baribeau and Ginger Alford (of Good Luck) covering “Thunder Road”—is a standout:

I spent the first half of my twenties in a lot of living rooms like this one, with touring musicians and guitars and sing-alongs. Watching the video isn’t nearly the same as being there, but it does evoke a poignant nostalgia. I’m glad someone captured it.

Despite writing in December about the mismatch between half marathon prep and my available free time, I decided in February to start training. I work well with a goal and a plan, and I prefer long races. A Half Marathon offers that. With my wife’s blessing and support, I signed up for The Flying Pig and got to work.

Training

Based on the guidance in fellrnr’s guide to training programs, Hal Higdon’s Novice 2 Plan seemed like a fit for me. I’m a slow runner, but I can run a 10K with relative ease, and it seemed like the half marathon would just be more of that. Higdon’s plan seemed doable. What I failed to account for, however, is that February, March, and April are the cruelest months in the academic year. They’re a mix of admissions season, graduation, end-of-academic year meetings, assessment, and fatigue—not to mention the general lack of daylight in the early months. Because of this, much of my training was, well, inconsistent. I was able to run the Tues/Thurs 5Ks most weeks, and I ran the long run each week, but the Wednesday runs and Sunday cross trainings were mostly missing.

I did work on my nutrition (incorporating an Untapped Maple Syrup packet into the back half of my long runs), and I battled some blisters and fatigue once the runs got to the 10+ mile distance. Still, I went into week 12 confident of my prep. I ran my best long run at a pace of 10:49, and two others at 11:04 and 11:17. Only one of those left me feeling gassed, so I was optimistic that I could finish the half marathon at 2:30—and maybe even creep closer to 2:25. I’d like to work on speed this summer (I have to get faster if I have any hope of getting through a marathon training plan), and a 2:30 Half Marathon finish time would give me a benchmark from which to build.

Race Day

I woke at 4am, drank a cup of coffee, ate a banana and a bowl of Cheerios, and was heading downtown by 5:05am. Thanks to recommendations from local runners, I skipped the riverfront garages and parked in a Covington lot. I ate four graham crackers, drank a bit of water, and walked across the Roebling bridge with a crowd of runners. This was the first time I realized just how many people run The Flying Pig. The second was when I waited in a 20 minute line for the portable bathroom. After the requisite pre-race pee, I was in my corral by 6:20. The corral was absolutely jam packed with people, but I quickly found the 2:30 Half Marathon pacer, and I made my mental note to follow him at all costs. My race strategy was to hang with the 2:30 pacer until mile eight or so and then slowly increase my pace during the back half of the race. I tried this in my final long runs, and I had no problem with negative splits in the final miles. Enjoy the race, follow the pacer, and then empty the tank at the end. Easy enough, right?

There were a few troubling variables, however. First, the hills. I knew the course was hilly, and I hadn’t trained on hills, but my long run path is relatively hilly and didn’t cause many problems. I was optimistic. Next, the heat and humidity. There were storms the day before, and it felt like all of the storm moisture was still in the air. Not good. I didn’t bring my hydration vest to the race, and hadn’t planned on taking any fluid until later in the race (I didn’t need any fluid during my training runs), but I quickly realized I would need to reevaluate that plan. Problems aside, the crowd was swarming and electric and I was ready to run. After 20 minutes of waiting for the faster corrals to empty, my group finally made its way to the starting line, where Miley Cyrus’s “Party in the USA” was playing at deafening levels, drowning out the first song in my carefully curated playlist (The National’s “You Had Your Soul With You"). Ah well, I thought, let’s lean into the race spirit. I turned down the volume in my headphones until Miley was out of earshot, and the race was on.

Miles 1–3

About 20,000 people run the Flying Pig Half & Full Marathons, and I felt like I saw each of them in the early miles. The course was absolutely packed. I know not to weave through the crowd (it adds more distance to an already long race), but it was difficult to deal with so many runners moving at different paces—and a surprising amount of walkers in the middle of the road. To add to the difficulty, I quickly realized that my chosen 2:30 pacer was going to follow a Galloway run/walk method. I thought: should I just run/walk with him? I’m not opposed to the Galloway method, but I hadn’t practiced it during my training, so trying it on race day seemed like a bad idea. Instead, I found the 5:00 full marathon pacer and decided to keep with him until the two races split at mile eight.

The first four miles of the race cross the Ohio River, run through Covington Kentucky, and then come back across the Ohio River into Cincinnati. Downtown Covington gave me a first experience of the Flying Pig spectator support, which is simply awesome. There were people on the sides of the road holding signs, there were people handing out paper towels and candy, but there were also people just going about their Sunday morning—sitting outside of coffee shops or walking with a stroller—cheering for the passing runners. I’m not exaggerating when I say that there were spectators on nearly every stretch of the half marathon course.

The mile three bridge back into Cincinnati also gave a first taste of the course’s inclines, but I managed that better than I thought I would and benefitted from the crowd thinning a bit. I was holding an 11:13 pace over the first three miles, which was just a bit faster than planned but felt totally manageable.

Miles 4–8

Mile four found us turning on 7th street into downtown Cincy, and it also found me worrying about my heart rate. I was holding a good time, and I felt like I had plenty of energy, but my heart rate was solidly in zone four. I suspected a mix of the heat and the sweat and the incline was to blame, and on a training day I would back off a bit, but this was a race. Time to push. The hills into Eden Park on mile six were tough, but I was still with my pacer. I could, however, feel a bit of dehydration beginning to kick in. I ate a maple syrup pack at mile six and grabbed water at each station. By mile, eight, however, the fatigue was growing.

Miles 9–13.1

I was holding a good pace (11:11) at mile nine after the half and full marathons split, but I’d lost my pacer. I also had very real concerns about heat stroke and dehydration. I had been heavily sweating through the whole race, and I hadn’t replenished the lost or water or salt. I could feel my body pushing back. I’m stubborn, and my impulse is to push through, but I saw people on the sides of the course stretching strained muscles and wiping their brows, and I looked again at my slowing pace and high heart rate. This was the point where I should be pushing for a negative split—something I had done in practice the weeks before. But it wasn’t in me. I was fading. The first goal, I thought, is to finish. Don’t compromise that.

At mile ten or so, a community group was handing out Twizzlers. I gratefully took two, hoping they might replenish lost energy. But after taking the first bite, I realized just how dehydrated I was. I could barely produce enough saliva to swallow the candy. I struggled through the Twizzlers for the next mile, taking extra water at the next station. I had slowed considerably by mile eleven (running at an 11:44 pace), but Libby was at one of the spectator stations, and her cheering gave me a lift. I took two full water cups at mile twelve, but at that point the heat and fatigue had done their work. My pace had dropped to 12:38, and I was focused only on finishing the race.

The end of the race is a blur. I had filled my playlist with upbeat celebratory songs, but I remember none of them. I know there were considerably more spectators, and I’m grateful for the woman who was screaming “don’t you dare walk now!”, but beyond that my home stretch was lackluster. I made it across the finish line, quickly ate a banana, grabbed a bottle of water and a bag of pretzels, and sat—tired and sore and dehydrated—on a bench on the riverfront.

Lessons Learned

My official finish time was 2:34:02. That’s slower than I wanted but not nearly as bad as I expected. I ran the first half of the race in 1:13:16, which is aligned with my plan, but also shows that I was pushing too hard given the heat and humidity. I should’ve slowed more, but my training (much of which had taken place in cooler months) hadn’t accounted for that. I also suspect that the missed cross-training sessions would’ve helped with my aerobic base and thus my too high heartrate.

I also ended the race with a mess of blisters. This started occurring during the 10+ mile training runs, but I didn’t take it too seriously. The blisters were minor, and I was wearing good socks and good shoes. On race day, with the extra distance and extra sweat, the blisters were much worse. I need to better assess what’s happening in training and solve those problems when they first appear. There were other assorted post-race aches and pains that signaled a need for better prep and training.

Crossing the finish line was surprisingly anticlimactic. I ran a half marathon! But also: the process of training for a half marathon was over. The morning runs, the long runs, the tempo workouts, the speed days—I’d found a lot of joy in the work. And moving across the finish line meant that section of the work was now complete. I was proud of the accomplishment but also mourning its end.

In the days since, however, I’ve found more joy in the whole of it. And I’ve made a plan for what’s next. A 10K in the fall to practice speed at a longer distance. Then some fall training and maybe a 5K before starting next year’s half marathon planning.

I’ve registered for the 2025 Flying Pig, and I’m ready to start again.

Context

I’ve always wanted to be an athlete. I had never—until 2018—considered myself athletic.

What happened in 2018? Some combination of aging and stress and restlessness showed me that my intellectual work improved when my physical activity increased. I took up indoor rowing, completed a number of Concept2 challenges, rowed a few half marathons, and participated in many classes and workouts. I wasn’t an athlete, but I did, finally, feel athletic.

In 2022 I, perhaps foolishly, decided to take up running. I’ve always had a passing proficiency with running: I ran the mile in high school (the only sport that didn’t have tryouts or cuts) and I’ve completed many Couch to 5Ks. But none of those experiences created a habit. However, after a few recent years of indoor rowing (and growing bored with the indoor part of the sport), I shifted to running. I ran my first race (a very very slow 10K) in August of 2022 and have stuck with it since.

That makes make 2023 my first full calendar year of running, and the end of 2023 feels like a good time to reflect on how things went.

Distance

I ran 416.6 miles in 2023, or approximately 8 miles per week. However, I lost most of March & April to covid moving sequentially through my family. I also spent the summer with an injury (more on that below), so I think 10.5 mi/week is the more accurate number when accounting for only active weeks. Still, there’s room for improvement here. I hope to exceed 600 annual miles in 2024.

Training Plans

In the first half of the year, I worked from the FIRST 10K Training Program, which was great—until I injured my peroneal tendon. I’m not sure where I went wrong: maybe pushing the speed work, maybe exerting myself too much on cross training days, maybe focusing on external metrics rather than listening to my body. Regardless, in June the tendon pain caused me to abandon a long run and walk home. Dr. Kristin Titko promptly diagnosed the tendinitis, saw me through weeks of laser treatment, and had me back to full training volume in August. (I highly recommend Dr. Titko if you’re in the Cincinnati area.)

After the injury I switched my training plan to Hanson’s Beginner Half Marathon, which has kept me injury free. In Q4 of 2023 I’ve been able to average two 5Ks and a long run each week, along with a day or two of cross-training.

Gear

Here’s what I used in 2023:

• Shoes: New Balance Fresh Foam X 880v12. I buy these whenever Joe’s New Balance Outlet has a sale, and the foam tends to hold up for 350–400 miles. They’re great for the casual running I do.
• Watch: Apple Watch Ultra Series 2. I nearly purchased a Garmin Forerunner this year, but I want a watch with cellular service. Although I envy Garmin’s Body Battery measurements, the Athlytic watch app gets me close enough.
• Socks: injinji’s lightweight running socks have been a revelation. Mine are showing a fair bit of wear after less than a year, but I’ll happily replace them. They make a tremendous difference in foot comfort and blister prevention.
• Headphones: Shokz OpenRun Pro. I started the year with Beats Fit Pro (which I still use for cross training), but moved to an open headphone this fall when my long runs started to exceed 9 miles. The Shokz sound terrible, but it’s an acceptable trade-off for safety.
• Vests: Salomon Adv Skin 12 (for hydration) and NoxGear Tracer2 (for early morning runs). Both are great.
• Headband: Halo. I sweat a lot. The Halo is the only headband that has kept the sweat out of my eyes during long summer runs.
• Summer running clothes: Patagonia Strider Pros and a technical shirt.
• Winter running clothes: Tracksmith Harriers for mild days and a Tracksmith Downeaster/Brighton combo for colder days. The Tracksmith stuff is absurdly expensive, but it’s great for cold weather. I still haven’t found winter pants that I like and am relying on an old pair of Nike Joggers that are pretty lackluster.
• Gels: UnTapped maple syrup gels.

Books

Aside from the FIRST & Hanson’s training plan books, I also read Tom Foreman’s My Year of Running Dangerously, which was heartwarming and full of dad jokes (for better and worse), and Bernd Heinrich’s Racing the Clock, which was an excellent meditation on science and nature and exercise and aging.

Goals for 2024

I’d like to run the Flying Pig Half Marathon, but I would also like to run it at a respectable pace. That kind of training isn’t viable with a toddler in the house, so I’m shelving the half marathon race goal for a year. Instead, I’m planning to accrue at least 600 miles this year and improve my 5K time (currently 27:12; I’d like to drop it to 26:30 this year). I find distance running more enjoyable than racing, but 5K training is a better fit for my life & responsibilities right now. And improving my overall speeds and fitness will help me log more miles.

More importantly, running has taught me that the experience matters more than the data. It’s reminded me to look up and watch the horizon, to enjoy running in the snow, and to get on the road or trail as the sun rises. If I can stay healthy and consistent in 2024, it will be another good year.