“Go Amy! You look awesome! That’s lap 40! Keep it up!!!”
These are some of the cheers that propelled me forward during a recent race I ran in early January. Regular readers of this column may recall that I’ve been fairly adamant that ultra running is something I admire, but do not desire to tackle at this point in my running life. Since a marathon has but 26.2 miles, what, you might ask, was I doing running a race with 40 laps? Indeed, 40 laps and I was supposed to “keep it up,” meaning I was still not at the finish line.
Here’s a hint. The race was in Minnesota, it started at 6:30 am and I ran in just a singlet, shorts, running socks and shoes. Let me add that I am not a member of any sort of “polar bear club,” i.e., people who do summer-ish activities in the snow like swimming in the Atlantic Ocean on New Year’s Day. Additionally, if you check the weather for Minnesota for January 13th, you’ll not find a record setting heat wave of any sort.
The answer is I was running the Zoom! Yah! Yah! Marathon in Northfield, Minnesota. While the 2008 event was only the 3rd annual running, the race has already captured the title of the “World’s Most Prestigious Indoor Marathon.” Northfield is home to St. Olaf College, where the teams are known as the “Oles” (yes, that’s as in “Ole and Lena”) and the fight song is sung in waltz-tempo (more on that in a bit).
Minnesotans have devised myriad creative ways to get themselves through some of the harshest winters in the United States. I know; I used to live there and have a plug-in on the front of my car from those days. You really, truly need to plug in your car at night to keep it warm enough to start the next morning. They also plow the streets when it snows there, a custom I wish Rapid City would adopt.
When the lakes freeze over, Minnesotans hit the ice. They skate on it, drill holes in it in order to fish, put up ice houses in which all kinds of activities take place, and curl on it. (Over 20% of the population of Bemidji, Minnesota engages in Curling, a 5-century-old sport that looks a like shuffleboard on ice.) Runners run outside, as did I when I lived there, even in below zero temperatures.
A marathon in Minnesota in winter would present special challenges, however, if held outside. The water and Gatorade at the aid stations would undoubtedly freeze in the little cups, and frostbite would be a concern for both runners and volunteers. The clever running club in Northfield, which dubs itself “Band of 10,000 Aches,” a play on Minnesota’s state slogan “Land of 10,000 Lakes,” devised the Zoom! Yah! Yah! Marathon to provide winter marathoners with warmth, perfect weather, a pancake flat course and your own personal cheerleader.
Here’s how it works. Held at the Tostrud Center, a 95,000 square foot state of the art recreational facility, the marathon is run on an elevated track. One mile is equal to just about 5 and a half laps, so you run 150 laps. To keep things interesting, every 30 minutes, you change directions. (Each runner finishes the lap s/he is on before changing directions. It works out very smoothly.)
There is a large timing clock at the start/finish line that you run past with every lap. Since running a marathon can cause a person’s math skills to deteriorate as the miles accumulate, the Zoom! Yah! Yah! features members of the St. Olaf’s Women’s Track and Cross Country Teams as personal scorers and cheerleaders. These fabulous young women arrive well before the start time of 6:30 am on Sunday, dressed in St. Olaf colors of black and old gold, and are assigned one or two runners. They keep a record of each one of your split times, meaning they write down your time as you pass them on each one of your 150 laps.
In addition, they offer exuberant support and encouragement each time you pass. Since you will pass your scorer every 282 meters (925 feet, or about .17 of a mile), you get cheers, personal recognition, and a welcome smile for the entire duration of your run. My scorer was a red-haired phenom, Caitlin Molsberry. Caitlin is a smart, attractive and very sharp cross country runner who didn’t miss a lap, never took a break, and was unfailingly vocal and warm in greeting me as I passed her over and over again. She even got some of the other scorers to yell out my name when I passed as we legged it into the final miles.
Another advantage of the Zoom! Yah! Yah! were the as-advertised 600 aid stations. Normally, marathons will have aid stations about every 2 miles with fluids and sometimes more. Here, the race organizers set up four large tables in the corners of the track with coolers and where we could stash our bottles of water, sports drink, gus, and any other necessities. It was easy to grab your bottle as you ran past one table, then leave it on the next one as you did your laps.
USAT&F (U.S.A. Track & Field) has been getting very strict of late about competitive races, encouraging a ban on the use of ipods and all devices using headphones. At the Zoom! Yah! Yah!, this is not a problem. The organizers had taped a selection of tunes and played it on the Field House sound system throughout the race. And yes, Billy Preston’s “Will It Go Round in Circles” was cued up a few hours into the event to give us an extra grin.
The concept of running around an indoor track for 150 miles does seem daunting, but that’s only when you think of you, a track, and none of the embellishments we so enjoyed at St. Olaf. As if all these extras were not enough, we were able to pick up extra energy at the superlative pre-race dinner.
As most experienced marathoners will attest, the pre-race or pasta dinner offered by a race is iffy, at best. Many of us eschew it and just get food at a grocery or find a familiar restaurant. A cardinal marathon rule of thumb is do not eat anything for dinner the night before that is strange or unusual to your system. That being well known, pre-race dinners usually err on the side of total blandness, with overcooked pasta and boring sauce. As an Italian, I find them especially difficult to endure.
Our pre-race dinner was held at the St. Olaf dining hall. College dining has changed remarkably since I was in school in the ‘70’s. This was an all-you-can-eat dinner, but more nuanced and better prepared than other buffets I have experienced. There were various food stations, including an enormous salad bar, a pasta bar, grilled entrees of fish, chicken and beef, with pans of peppers, onions and mushrooms to add at your choice, a pizza bar, an oriental station with 3 selections, a grains station with 3 beautifully prepared vegetarian dishes, an entire breakfast area in the event you felt like cereal, and I’m leaving out all the dessert options, as I was so full I just took a few cookies for later.
Clearly, this was a race with excellent amenities all around. At this cold, still dark time of year, the light heartedness of this competition and the sunny good humor of the organizers certainly chased away any winter doldrums. The camaraderie from the other runners, and the high spirits the St. Olaf Women’s track teams inspired my running and lots of smiles. Spring does not seem so nearly far away!
Perhaps you read a recent article in the Journal about the upcoming YMCA expansion. Among the innovations and upgrades mentioned is a new indoor track. Maybe we here in Rapid City could put together our own indoor marathon and give St. Olaf a bit of a challenge on that “World’s Most Prestigious” title they’ve claimed for themselves. And yes, if you’re reading this, Nicole, I’m willing to work on it. [Nicole Craig is the new Wellness Director of the YMCA as Emily Wheeler left to be the event director of the Mt. Rushmore Marathon.] What might we call such an event?
The name of the Zoom! Yah! Yah! Marathon derives in part from the afore-mentioned fight song. In their admissions materials, St. Olaf observes “we may have the most non-ferocious fight song in the land.” Here it is, and remember, sing it with a waltz-tempo:
We come from St. Olaf, we sure are the real stuff.
Our team is the cream of the colleges great.
We fight fast and furious, our team is injurious.
Tonight Carleton College will sure meet its fate.
Um! Yah! Yah!, Um! Yah! Yah!
Um! Yah! Yah!, Um! Yah! Yah!
Um! Yah! Yah!, Um! Yah! Yah!
Um! Yah! Yah! Yah!
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Saturday, January 12, 2008
FROWNS
Now that I’ve been writing this column for a while, more people notice me out running, or so it seems. In addition to friendly greetings, I’ve also received advice on various topics including my running style, running clothes style (or lack thereof) and my demeanor. A few folks my age or so who have seen Joan Benoit Samuelson, the renown marathoner from Maine, run, or films of her running, say I’ve got a similar form. Since the great Mrs. Samuelson (who at 50, is in my age group) is still able to rip off a sub 2:50 marathon, any resemblance between us is at best, fleeting. Her coach once described Joan as “a bowling ball with legs,” so that must be the connection.
The comment I get most often, however, has naught to do with anything even remotely flattering. No, the most-oft heard remark is in the form of a question and runs something along these lines: “Say, you write that running column? In the Journal?” I nod. “So how come when I see you running you don’t look happy? In fact, some times, you’re frowning!”
While this is true, let me hasten to point out that if you, in your travels, see me out running, do at least say hello. Whenever I see another runner or walker on the streets or bike path, I try to smile and at least wave. I love running with other people. In the last marathon I ran, I met a dermatologist from Florida who ran with me for miles. We talked about running, of course, and many other things: books, work, children, travel, etc. Please don’t be put off if I happen to be frowning and feel free to join me if you’re out running when I am, even if only for a mile or two.
In checking with some of my running friends on the frowning issue, I learned that they too have heard something similar about themselves while running. It’s caused me to spend some time contemplating why we appear to be unhappy when involved in an activity we profess to enjoy. If it’s fun, we should be grinning, right? Or does running draw the masochists among us?
One of my other leisure time passions is reading. Rather than tunes, I often listen to audio books when I run. (Now, if I could find a book club that runs, that would be truly sweet.) When I’m sacked out in my favorite seat at home, cat on my lap and immersed in a book by a favorite author, or exciting new novelist, I’m wonderfully content. And I don’t think I’m frowning.
That comparison left me wondering (just for a moment) if I really do love running as much as I think I do. While reading is a pure pleasure, running presents its challenges. There are certain days when it takes discipline to suit up, tie on my shoes, and go out for a two-hour run. One Sunday in late December the flags around town—even the huge one at Perkins—were being blown straight out by strong winds. I found myself puttering around the house doing any number of tasks (even cleaning!) instead of heading out for my run. Eventually, I got out there, but it was a tough workout and I know I wasn’t smiling until I got home.
That last line is the key. To be good at running requires a commitment to run regularly. That takes more energy than reading, even if you factor in lighting a fire in the fireplace and brewing up a nice cup of tea to go along with the book. Getting to the end of a good book is nice. Getting home after a punishing run is way beyond nice, more like exhilarating.
To be good at running often requires scheduling some runs wherein you push yourself. Runners plan speed work, where we run shorter distances with sets of fast intervals, e.g., one day, I might run 6 half-miles at my race pace, with slower half-miles in between. While they don’t have to be, these runs can be accomplished on a track. They often feel like work, not play.
Other types of workouts include hill runs, which might just be a hilly course or running up and down the same hill, as with the intervals and tempo runs. Tempo runs call for a runner to warm up for about 15 minutes, then to run fairly hard for at least 20 minutes, followed by a cool-down for the last 15 minutes. “Fairly hard” is hard to define; I’d describe it as a slower pace than what you’d run in a race, but uncomfortable enough that you’d enjoy slowing down. The overall length of a tempo run depends on the distance for which you are training. There are other types of training runs, but along with long slow distance runs for half and full marathoners, these are usually thought of as being key.
What about your other hobbies? Are they pure pleasure, as reading is for me, or do you have one that causes you to frown? My college roommate was an excellent seamstress and loved to sew. I can still recall accompanying her to the fabric store, where I’d find a secluded corner and pull out my book until hours [so it seemed] later when she was finished shopping and we could go home.
As I think back, I remember hearing her in the next room when she was embarked upon a project, e.g., she made her dad a suit coat one spring. The sewing machine would whir for a bit, then stop. “Shoot!” she’d mutter. Then I’d hear the sound I recognized as her seam ripper being used in a vigorous fashion. You can be sure her brow was furrowed and her lips set in a determined line as the coat took shape. One day, I wandered over to her at her sewing table and asked her why she was doing this if it was so frustrating.
Her immediate response was that she wanted her dad to have a coat that would fit him really well and be what he really wanted. “But in general, why do you like sewing when it’s so hard?” I pressed. She thought for a little bit, then tried to explain. She talked about the feel of the fabric, the hum of the machine, the sense of creation in your hands and finally, the thrill of accomplishment when the piece is completed.
I’m not sure I fully grasped what she meant then, but I think I do now. Most of the time, I really do love running. There are days, however, when I’m working at it. Those are the days when you probably see me frowning, as well as paying more attention to my watch than to the scenery. The payoff comes at the end of a race that’s been run well, where I’ve maintained a steady pace, not hit “the wall,” and finished within my goal time.
We all have pastimes that are pleasurable and do not require much effort from us. Reading, watching TV, playing computer games: one of these must be on almost everyone’s list. These are fun, or perhaps even soothing after a hard day. Think about the other things you love to do that require a bit more effort: gardening, playing an instrument, making or refinishing a piece of furniture. Despite your skill at and enjoyment of these activities, I’ll wager that they cause you to frown at some point while you’re involved in them. If you reflect for just a while, you probably can articulate why you continue to pursue them, just as my roommate did about her sewing.
Despite the occasional discomfort, stubborn weed, intricate rhythm or knot in the wood, we persist. Perhaps “despite” is used here incorrectly. Is the underlying explanation that it is because of the hurdles faced and cleared that we feel so bound to our passions? A bit of adversity jumpstarts our adrenalin and engages our minds. As we work through the hard bit, we learn more about the subject at hand and improve our skill level. Conquering the tough conditions or solving the puzzle brings a surge of confidence and mastery.
The next time I’m torn between getting outside for a training run in winter weather and staying inside with my book, I’m going to try to remember writing this column. Then I’ll put down the book, layer on the running clothes and head on out, reminding myself to smile as I begin my warm-up. It may not last, but it will return when I complete my scheduled miles and am jotting them into my log. And you know, the book will be right where I left it.
The comment I get most often, however, has naught to do with anything even remotely flattering. No, the most-oft heard remark is in the form of a question and runs something along these lines: “Say, you write that running column? In the Journal?” I nod. “So how come when I see you running you don’t look happy? In fact, some times, you’re frowning!”
While this is true, let me hasten to point out that if you, in your travels, see me out running, do at least say hello. Whenever I see another runner or walker on the streets or bike path, I try to smile and at least wave. I love running with other people. In the last marathon I ran, I met a dermatologist from Florida who ran with me for miles. We talked about running, of course, and many other things: books, work, children, travel, etc. Please don’t be put off if I happen to be frowning and feel free to join me if you’re out running when I am, even if only for a mile or two.
In checking with some of my running friends on the frowning issue, I learned that they too have heard something similar about themselves while running. It’s caused me to spend some time contemplating why we appear to be unhappy when involved in an activity we profess to enjoy. If it’s fun, we should be grinning, right? Or does running draw the masochists among us?
One of my other leisure time passions is reading. Rather than tunes, I often listen to audio books when I run. (Now, if I could find a book club that runs, that would be truly sweet.) When I’m sacked out in my favorite seat at home, cat on my lap and immersed in a book by a favorite author, or exciting new novelist, I’m wonderfully content. And I don’t think I’m frowning.
That comparison left me wondering (just for a moment) if I really do love running as much as I think I do. While reading is a pure pleasure, running presents its challenges. There are certain days when it takes discipline to suit up, tie on my shoes, and go out for a two-hour run. One Sunday in late December the flags around town—even the huge one at Perkins—were being blown straight out by strong winds. I found myself puttering around the house doing any number of tasks (even cleaning!) instead of heading out for my run. Eventually, I got out there, but it was a tough workout and I know I wasn’t smiling until I got home.
That last line is the key. To be good at running requires a commitment to run regularly. That takes more energy than reading, even if you factor in lighting a fire in the fireplace and brewing up a nice cup of tea to go along with the book. Getting to the end of a good book is nice. Getting home after a punishing run is way beyond nice, more like exhilarating.
To be good at running often requires scheduling some runs wherein you push yourself. Runners plan speed work, where we run shorter distances with sets of fast intervals, e.g., one day, I might run 6 half-miles at my race pace, with slower half-miles in between. While they don’t have to be, these runs can be accomplished on a track. They often feel like work, not play.
Other types of workouts include hill runs, which might just be a hilly course or running up and down the same hill, as with the intervals and tempo runs. Tempo runs call for a runner to warm up for about 15 minutes, then to run fairly hard for at least 20 minutes, followed by a cool-down for the last 15 minutes. “Fairly hard” is hard to define; I’d describe it as a slower pace than what you’d run in a race, but uncomfortable enough that you’d enjoy slowing down. The overall length of a tempo run depends on the distance for which you are training. There are other types of training runs, but along with long slow distance runs for half and full marathoners, these are usually thought of as being key.
What about your other hobbies? Are they pure pleasure, as reading is for me, or do you have one that causes you to frown? My college roommate was an excellent seamstress and loved to sew. I can still recall accompanying her to the fabric store, where I’d find a secluded corner and pull out my book until hours [so it seemed] later when she was finished shopping and we could go home.
As I think back, I remember hearing her in the next room when she was embarked upon a project, e.g., she made her dad a suit coat one spring. The sewing machine would whir for a bit, then stop. “Shoot!” she’d mutter. Then I’d hear the sound I recognized as her seam ripper being used in a vigorous fashion. You can be sure her brow was furrowed and her lips set in a determined line as the coat took shape. One day, I wandered over to her at her sewing table and asked her why she was doing this if it was so frustrating.
Her immediate response was that she wanted her dad to have a coat that would fit him really well and be what he really wanted. “But in general, why do you like sewing when it’s so hard?” I pressed. She thought for a little bit, then tried to explain. She talked about the feel of the fabric, the hum of the machine, the sense of creation in your hands and finally, the thrill of accomplishment when the piece is completed.
I’m not sure I fully grasped what she meant then, but I think I do now. Most of the time, I really do love running. There are days, however, when I’m working at it. Those are the days when you probably see me frowning, as well as paying more attention to my watch than to the scenery. The payoff comes at the end of a race that’s been run well, where I’ve maintained a steady pace, not hit “the wall,” and finished within my goal time.
We all have pastimes that are pleasurable and do not require much effort from us. Reading, watching TV, playing computer games: one of these must be on almost everyone’s list. These are fun, or perhaps even soothing after a hard day. Think about the other things you love to do that require a bit more effort: gardening, playing an instrument, making or refinishing a piece of furniture. Despite your skill at and enjoyment of these activities, I’ll wager that they cause you to frown at some point while you’re involved in them. If you reflect for just a while, you probably can articulate why you continue to pursue them, just as my roommate did about her sewing.
Despite the occasional discomfort, stubborn weed, intricate rhythm or knot in the wood, we persist. Perhaps “despite” is used here incorrectly. Is the underlying explanation that it is because of the hurdles faced and cleared that we feel so bound to our passions? A bit of adversity jumpstarts our adrenalin and engages our minds. As we work through the hard bit, we learn more about the subject at hand and improve our skill level. Conquering the tough conditions or solving the puzzle brings a surge of confidence and mastery.
The next time I’m torn between getting outside for a training run in winter weather and staying inside with my book, I’m going to try to remember writing this column. Then I’ll put down the book, layer on the running clothes and head on out, reminding myself to smile as I begin my warm-up. It may not last, but it will return when I complete my scheduled miles and am jotting them into my log. And you know, the book will be right where I left it.
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