Is flat really fast?

We've all seen it in a race descriptions: "flat and fast" course.

Sure, on a 5k or even a 10k, a pancake flat course ignites PR dreams. But is flat really "fast" on longer distance races?

After many years of running and racing, I'm beginning to question the flat-is-fast logic. Before moving to Florida, I had never run a truly "flat" course.

Look at a topo map of San Diego. Compare it with Pensacola. You'll quickly understand what I mean. If that's not sufficient, here's a visual comparison... Yes, in that first photo I'm "hiking" in San Diego using a fixed rope to get down a rock ledge. And, yes, I'm scared sh**less in that photo.

Not flat: Four mile hike to Three Sisters Waterfall in San Diego. 

The second photo shows a favorite northwest Florida trail which has, maybe, 10 feet of elevation change along the entire route - typical of the topography here.

Flat: Four mile run along the Blackwater Heritage Trail near Pensacola

I expected that flat Gulf Coast topography would work in my racing favor, even if the weather didn't.

However, my burning quads and aching calves told a different story (especially after the Holiday Half Marathon in Point Clear).

What I'm finding is that my legs are TIRED after racing flat courses. My hunch is that hills recruit slightly different minor muscle groups and thus legs (my legs, at least) are less fatigued after a long run on gently rolling hills than they are after an entirely flat 13.1.

So I did a little research.

Which race courses are the fastest?

Runner's World compiled a list of the most competitive marathon courses. Not surprisingly, the list focuses on flat or net-downhill routes.

Of course, the statistician in me thinks: Who cares what proportion of the field BQs? Maybe only BQ runners sign up for this race. You're saying flat races have fast fields, but you're not controlling for WHO is running!*

So... fast runners gravitate toward flat courses.

But...

Does that mean flatter is faster? Or easier?

Even within the flat-is-fast list, the details give a clue that my hunch - that flat isn't necessarily fast - isn't so harebrained after all: 

"The course [at the Baystate Marathon] is flat... with just enough rolling terrain (10 to 15 feet up and down) to lessen muscle fatigue."

And of the California International Marathon...

"Race officials describe the gradual downhill route as 'biomechanically friendly,' meaning that for every gentle uphill, there's an equally gentle, and longer, downhill."

Ahh... muscle fatigue!

If you've ever seen a muscle-targeting chart next to an elliptical machine, you know that when we use an elliptical, we recruit different muscle groups at different levels of incline.

Image source

Running follows a similar pattern.

Arizona Central's health section notes:

"When you run a consistently flat terrain, the same muscles work for all 26.2 miles. A varying terrain shifts the muscle emphasis from the quads to the hamstrings as you race up and down hills. A flat course never allows the muscles to shift their workload and rest. As a result, you may fatigue sooner and find recovery harder."

And Pete Pfitzinger writes:

"... pancake flat marathon uses your muscles in exactly the same way over the same range of motion for thousands of strides. This lack of variety enhances fatigue as your hamstrings and calf muscles and quadriceps repeat the same cycle over and over again. To prepare optimally for a flat marathon, you should do most of your long runs over similarly flat terrain."

Well, Mr. Pfitzinger, I train on flat courses (this is coastal Florida, after all) but I think I still prefer a few rolling hills in my races.

So, flat might not be so fast after all.

Bring on the hills!!!

What do you prefer? Flat, rolling hills, or steep-as-they-come courses?

*With respect to the "who is running" issue, I will note that I've run the San Diego marathon. It is not a flat course, yet San Diego has one of the fastest course records in the U.S. And... um... Boston has the fastest U.S. course record (2:03:02). Anyone who's ever seen Heartbreak Hill knows Boston is not a flat course.

Did I run hard enough?

In the hours immediately after a long race, I start second-guessing my effort. My mind reels with questions of:

Did I run hard enough? Could I have pushed harder? Did I really do my best?

I don't know why this happens. I was elated after Sunday's half marathon, but halfway home, I started to wonder if I could have run harder/better/faster/stronger?*

I see the clock as I cross the finish line. I start out proud, but then I begin mentally lining up this race against those I've run before. I get back home and do the math... 4 minutes faster than this one (good!)... but 15 minutes slower than that other race...

No one wants to be slower today than they were yesterday/last week/last year. And while I know I could not have run a minute per mile faster, I wonder... Could I have shaved off another minute from my finish time? Two? I had enough kick for the last half mile. Could I have started my final sprint sooner? I didn't hurl at the end. Shouldn't I have been dry heaving at least?

I tried to distract my nagging brain. I made popcorn and sat down for an afternoon of football. I napped through part of the Pats / Ravens game, but was wide awake for the fourth quarter nail-biter finish. I got up and walked around. Stretched. I made dinner and mostly ignored the Giants / 49ers. (You can take the girl out of New England...) I went to sleep.

...And woke up so sore it hurt to get out of bed.

Today stairs are my enemy.

And I have my answer: I may not have puked at the finish line, but I really did run as hard as I could yesterday.

How do you evaluate your performance after a race? Comparing stats against prior races or pre-race goals? By how your body feels? By whether or not you enjoyed the ride?

*PS - I gave up hating Kanye when Watch the Throne was released. It is too good to ignore... But running playlists will have to be another discussion for another time. Anyone else have a love/hate relationship with K. West?

Two for Tuesday

Two runs. Two blog posts. Both completely unplanned. So today turned into a two-for-Tuesday! (Maybe not as good as Taco Tuesday, but who's counting?)

I went for a morning "shake the dust off" run to take the edge off of post-flight achiness. Sometimes the best way to work out the kinks* is to get moving.

Apparently the morning run worked well, because by 4pm I was ready for another run. I called Hubby and we made plans to do a 5k after work. (If achy limbs were like dusty furniture, I'd be 60s sitcom sparkling! My house never is, so my legs might as well be...)

When we started, I kept telling myself that I'd just run a mile, then walk the rest. After all, I had already done the run that was on my schedule.

But the farther I ran, the more convinced I was that I'd just run the whole 5k. I even had enough kick left to sprint the last quarter mile.

Honestly, I can't remember the last time I did a two-a-day run, but it felt good. I just hope my legs don't hate me tomorrow.

Do you ever run twice a day?

*No, not that kind of kinks, and not that kind of kinks either.

Photo courtesy of Nationaal Archief.

Shaking the dust off

Autumn leaves along the Housatonic River
in Stockbridge, MA

I spent almost all day yesterday on an airplane (story of my life). Between too much time wearing my over-heavy backpack and too many hours sitting in a cramped chair, I woke up today feeling like I got tossed around the luggage compartment, rather than sitting in a seat, for my flights.

I read the muscle-aches as a sign that perhaps I should sleep in and skip my morning run.

However, I also awoke to Florida temperatures in the sixties.
60s + sunny + dry = perfect running weather!

Clearly I brought some Berkshires autumn weather back with me. (That might explain why my pack weighed so much. Normally I'm an ultralight traveler.)

As I'm sure you can guess, in the debate between rest and running: the weather won the argument on the side of running. I couldn't resist a couple of morning miles. I rolled out of bed, pulled on my running shoes, and promised myself that this would be a "shake the dust off" recovery run.

I think of these runs sort of like clearing the dust off of a bicycle that sat in the garage too long. If I don't go, I'll just get rustier.

Pelican on a Pensacola pier.
I'll bet he has no problem flying all day!

I promised myself that I would run as long as it helped to loosen the knots in my neck and back, and I would switch to a walk if my backache got worse. I wound up knocking off almost four miles (no walking) and enjoying a gorgeous morning.

I won't say this morning's run was my most glamorous effort ever, but I loosened up after about 20 minutes, and felt better at the end than I had when I started.

My house might still be a post-travel mess, but at least I brushed the dust off myself.

Plus, I had a chance to chat with neighbors and watch pelicans fishing for their breakfast. It's no apple cider and autumn leaves, but I'll take it.

Massage addict

Hi, My name is Beth. I am a massage addict.

(The first step is to admit you have a problem, right?)

But here's the thing: I don't think massage addiction is a problem.
(Cue collective 12-step groan.)

I have been a massage-per-month girl for almost as long as I've been a runner. It started when I was experiencing stiffness in my shoulders (job induced) that slowed my swimming pace. I had a triathlon coming up, and decided to see if massage might help my aching shoulders. I found a clinic that specialized in sports massage, and have never looked back.

The worst massages were just boring. The most interesting, and quite possibly the most effective, was a Thai-style massage that involved quite a bit of active stretching (fully clothed through the whole routine). The therapist bent me into pretzel shapes that would have made my yoga teacher proud, and pulled my limbs to stretch them out. I would not call it "relaxing" but it was definitely rejuvenating! The next day I knocked a good 20 seconds off my mile pace. (It's just too bad the speedy side effects didn't last long!)

All in all, the best massages have left me feeling like I had an extra spring in my step.

After all, that's how addiction starts: It feels good, so you go back for more.

Any other massage addicts out there?
How many of you get massages on a regular basis?

Granted, if you've never had a massage before, the whole process can be a little intimidating. I am embarrassed to admit that I went in to my first massage wearing a one-piece bathing suit, because I wasn't sure what to expect. I had seen photos of relaxed-looking people laying (seemingly) nude under crisp white sheets, but how did they get there? Did they have to disrobe with the massage therapist nearby? What about underclothes? Keep them on, or take them off?

So I put together a few suggestions for any first-timers to make sure you have a relaxing and rewarding massage experience:

1. Before you go, get recommendations from people you trust, and make sure the practitioner is licensed. (Requirements vary by state.)
   
2. At the start of a massage, the therapist should ask you if you have any trouble spots and what area(s) you want to work on. For a 30-minute massage, pick one target area. For 60- or 90- minute massages, the therapist can cover more ground.
   
3. Once the initial consultation is complete, the therapist will give you some privacy to disrobe and get under the sheets on the massage table. He or she will knock before re-entering the room. No surprises.
   
4. Disrobe to "your level of comfort." If that means keeping your clothes on, they'll work with that. If it means birthday suit, that works, too. You'll be covered by a sheet and/or blanket anyway, and the therapist will only uncover a leg, arm, or your back as necessary, keeping the rest of you modestly "draped."
   
5. For the therapist's sake, shower before your massage. For your sake, plan to shower again afterward. You may be greasy at the end of the massage, depending on what product(s) the therapist uses.
   
6. Communicate with your therapist! Certain types of massage, like deep tissue, may be uncomfortable for a moment or two. But if something is painful, let the therapist know!
   

But don't say I didn't warn you: it's addictive. Photos courtesy of the Library of Congress.

Rollin' rollin' rollin', keep them doggies rollin'

Mother @#$%@$% that hurt!

OK. Forget what I said about endocannabinoids last week. 10 miles on Sunday, in the heat and humidity that is Northwest Florida, has my quads feeling like I hit them with a sledgehammer. This is really awesome considering that I'm trying to be a "good coach" and encourage a friend through her first 5k. Whining about how much my legs ache is probably not the most encouraging example I can set.

So what did I do today?

I broke out the foam roller.

And it hurt even more...

Those of you who have used a roller, or The Stick, or trigger point (or whatever you want to call it) know exactly what I am talking about. You also know that this maybe explains why some people think we runners are crazy. (Let them talk. We can't be distracted by their couch potato chatter! Ha!)

But seriously, after 10 minutes of foam-rollering (and a string of expletives that would have made a drunken trucker proud) my legs started to feel better.

And tonight's 10k was my fastest on the course to date.