Woes of a Tall Runner

#justrunnerthings

There's not really an overarching narrative to this post, or any running tips, or even a larger running story. This is about that just____things trend that happens on Instagram and Tumblr and Twitter. You know the trend, it usually looks something like this:

However, I noticed that there is a deficit of these things for runners. I thought of a few, and I love illustrating things, so I did some. Here they are, with a little bit of commentary.

Running shoes are the only piece of equipment that is basically required for each and every one of your runs. (Unless you're a barefoot runner, but I don't associate with those people [except for my barefoot running followers on Twitter, hi guys, I love you!].) (Sorry for the excessive parentheses [yeah, sorry {really sorry!}!].)

So there's a bit of an emotional attachment that comes with getting rid of a pair of them, and I personally have never had the heart to just throw them out. I feel that other runners understand this need for ceremony, hence the picture.

This is a phenomenon that I discovered after I started doing much longer runs that stretched into hours of the day that could actually tan my skin. The picture really says it all, and yeah, because runners hold their arms at right angles, the crooks of their elbows don't get burned. It's weird, but it's like this weird distinguishing diamond tattoo I can use to determine if someone is both a runner and a strange pale creature, like myself.

I love MapMyRun, but sometimes you just don't need to hear how slowly you're going. If I'm having a bad run, I KNOW I'm having a bad run, so having a tiny electronic lady basically say, "Satellites have coordinated and beamed electronic signals hundreds of miles just so I can tell you what a slow, useless person you are. Go faster!"

Finally, there's something both beautiful and frustrating about how hard it is to burn 1000 calories, and then how easy it is to eat all of that back. It teaches you to eat healthier just so you can make sure to eat LOTS of stuff, and it's also incredibly satisfying to eat carby, protein-dripping cheeseburgers and mashed potatoes and steak after a long run.

It usually doesn't feel like you're overeating, even when you're eating something calorie-rich. You've earned it. Have a beer.

Breaking a Marathon into Pieces

Planning to run your first marathon, much like the marathon itself, is a large and intimidating undertaking.

Thousands of sources dictate how, when, and how much you should run every day, week, and month. Numbers begin to add together and pile up/ daily distances become weekly goals, single digits become double, and, if you pull back far enough, you see a total pre-marathon mileage that would not look out of place in the bottom corner of a GPS at the start of a long road trip.

But as a first-time marathoner currently signed up for the Chicago Marathon in October, I needed to deal with this large, intimidating planning problem. Marathons, as it turns out, need to be taken seriously.

And luckily, I found a way. Training for a marathon, like anything else, is best approached by breaking the process up into pieces. I imagine this method works quite well for all first-time marathoners like me, whom I have pictured in my head like tiny, frightened baby bunnies. 

No offense

You can't give a tiny bunny like that a whole carrot at once. They can't work with that. You have to chop the carrot up into pieces so they are able to deal with it. At least I think so. (Full disclosure: I've never fed a baby bunny.)

I don't start my days by telling myself, "I am now going to train for a marathon." I focus on how much I'm going to run that day, and I remind myself that the other hundreds of training sessions will be my problem on those other days, but not this one.

This method helps keep things in perspective by keeping that perspective tight and focused. And a similar focus applies well to those thousands of training plans for running a marathon. I pulled out the simple themes that resonate across all the plans, which are always going to be somewhat idiosyncratic to the runner writing them. Why else would there be thousands out there?

Here's an outline I've figured out to prep for a marathon:

• Obviously, you have to run a lot. Make your runs consistent in increasing mileage each week, but not more than a 10 percent increase any week. Right before the marathon, I aim to be running around 50 miles or so a week.
• 
  
• Add speed work and interval training to your runs, and have one long run planned every week or every other week. For the long run, go more slowly than usual, and have water handy.
• 
  
• Listen to your body, and give yourself time to recover, especially after the long runs.
• 
  
• Don't make radical changes to your running routine for the race. Make sure your running shoes are well broken-in, and don't add a water-belt, or GPS watch, or new running shirt, or anything at all that you haven't gotten used to in your training.
• 
  

There you have it. I can't break the marathon itself into pieces (unfortunately), but your training plan breaks down into one day at a time. Embrace that.

After all, sometimes it's nice to see the trees and forget the forest.

The Things I'm Learning About Running Long Distances

Sometimes experiences throughout your life connect in strange ways.

When I was very young, three or four years old, my parents took me to the doctor and I got a series of shots that were probably just vaccinations important for a young child to get. I was as happy about this series of shots as any young child would be, but soon enough I was back home, and I went to bed that night happy, the incident forgotten.

When I woke up the next morning, my legs no longer worked.

As I threw my torso out of bed, landing in a tangled thump on the floor, I did so with a stoic resolve that surprises me even to this day. Well, I remember thinking calmly as I army-crawled to my bedroom doorway and then across the carpeted upstairs hallway, I guess I'm not a walker any more.

Maybe you have to be a child, new to the world and its experiences, to let go of something like walking so easily. Maybe part of me suspected the shots would wear off in a day or so. Or, maybe I'm just a weirdo. But as I threw myself down the stairs, landing in a crumpled heap at their base and interrupting my parents as they ate their breakfast, I could not have known that this incident would not be the last of its kind I would experience. 

I should have known that just calling for help was a better option.

I could not have known that the temporary loss of my legs would become a regular occurrence in my mid-20's, where luckily my bedroom is no longer on the upper floor of a house.

I could not have known, in short, that I would become a distance runner.

Each Saturday is my day for a long run, and each Saturday teaches me new lessons about what it is to run upwards of 10 and 15 miles at a time, starting with the fact that the rest of my day will be spent firmly on my ass. But aside from that one, I have a couple of other lessons I've learned the hard way about distance running. Starting with...

Bring Water

Sure, my other runs left me thirsty, but these really long runs don't just leave you thirsty--they leave you dry about three quarters of the way through. And its easy to tell when you're body is out of moisture: your heart beats faster, your muscles hurt more, and you begin to SERIOUSLY overheat. Your chest will start to feel like a furnace.

So obviously, bringing water is a must. Carry it, get a water belt, bring a bag; do something to ensure that you will have ready access to water throughout the run.

Now, starting out these long runs, I thought I had accounted for water. After all, there were a handful of water fountains along my route! Surely it will just tire me faster to carry a bottle, so I'll just grab some as I pass a fountain.

But I should not have counted on water fountains. As you run and get thirstier, an upcoming water fountain begins to look like a shimmering mirage in a harsh desert. You feel as if you've been saving up all your restraint until that moment, and you just might overdo it when you reach the fountain.

I might have overdone it.

Being able to sip when the mood strikes me is wonderful, and I highly recommend it. That, or you could look like you just insulted the dead parents of your magical nephew.

Apply Lubricant

So the other thing about distance running: it reveals all the parts of yourself that rub together when you run. If you didn't notice those parts before, you will after 12 miles when the skin on your inner thighs is red and chafing.

Sometimes it's even worse than that.

Waistband of your shorts too tight? Armband for your iPod shift as you run? Do your arms lightly brush your sides as they swing? All these features of your run and more will be revealed to you after you finish a long run and these sharp pains poke all over.

But the good news? Once you know, you can prepare. Get an anti-chafe deodorant stick thing, get Vaseline, get KY Jelly if that's all you have on hand, just get something to deal with it. 

So I have no doubt I'll learn more fun lessons as my runs get longer and longer, and I'll make sure to get back to you as I do.

The Vicious Cycle

I've developed a habit in the last few months, ever since I got a 2014 wall calendar for Christmas. The calendar features a pretty picture of Scotland for each month, as well as the days of the month, numbered, arranged in a grid system just below that picture. They even label holidays and the phases of the moon. Just in case werewolves needed a reminder, I guess.

I'm describing the calendar it in such detail because I don't think many people have bought or used a wall calendar since the advent of computers. I mean, why would you use a wall calendar when we get calendars pre-loaded on every piece of hardware that we buy? Digital calendars aren't even limited by year; they can go on for as long as you want to keep planning things.

Anyway, the habit I mentioned. I put an "X" on the date of any day that I run. It's gratifying to put a new X up, and it's also quite satisfying, if I've run a lot any given month, to see all those "X's" lined up in neat rows and columns just below a pretty picture of Scotland. But just this morning, as my pen was poised to X another date, I thought about what was the most challenging run out of all those "X's."

You might predict the last run in a long, unbroken string of X's was the hardest. And while yes, after several days of running, the runs get a little harder, I don't remember any spectacular difficulty during the final runs before a break. Likewise, I could not remember difficulty based on any one day's conditions; the burning hot, frigid cold, cloyingly humid, or swan-infested runs get lost in time soon after they're completed.

But you know what runs I do remember? Those X's that come after a day or two without running. I remember them because I remember the days preceding that run. There's almost never a good, happy reason to miss a run. I was sick, I was lazy, I was mildly injured - it's never something dramatic, but it's always something I remember.

Okay, one time it was something dramatic.

Filling in those X's following a break is the most difficult because removing running from my daily activities removes a huge source of confidence and validation. I know running doesn't serve the same function for everyone, but for me it's a sign that I'm moving forward in my life.

Also, though less symbolic, no running means no boost of happy, active endorphins on a daily basis. After enough days running, you might become so used to that chemical boost that you don't notice the good it does, but remove it for a couple of days and it can hit you hard.

Really hard

I begin to feel down without exercise, and that, in turn, makes it harder to get back on the horse and run again. It's the second worst cycle I have to watch out for as a runner, the first being a literal cyclist who seems to be playing a game with me called, "look at how close I can pass this runner without actually making contact."

He doesn't always win.

There is a silver lining to this vicious cycle, however. For as difficult as it is to get back on that horse and run after an extended break, there is nothing sweeter than actually doing it. For me, the flood of self-validation, self esteem, and sweet, sweet endorphins is actually at its height when I struggle to make myself run. I don't know what I'd do without it.

Okay, I might know what I'd do without it.

How I Got Way Too High in Colorado

When I stepped out to run on Colorado 7, a long and lonely highway winding through the Rocky Mountains at an altitude of roughly 7,500 feet, I was confident. Gone was the low-altitude humidity that stifled my breath and slicked my skin with sweat at lower altitudes. Gone was the 90 degree heat that sapped my energy and slowed my pace.

Here, with Indian Paintbrushes gently swaying at my feet and green pines lining the highway, it was a cool 70 degrees. The air was crisp and clean. Sure, the road was a bit steeper than my routes in Illinois, but I could cope with that. And while I was aware of those things called “altitude sickness” and “oxygen deprivation,” neither ideas were really bothering me at that moment. I was brazenly confident, almost giddy, in expectation of having a great run.

Some of that giddy confidence, of course, was most likely the result of a lack of oxygen flow to my brain.

An oxygen-deprived world can be a magical, wonderful place.

As I found out at around the fifth step of my run that day, a drastic altitude change is something that really does affect exercise, especially cardiovascular exercise, in a big way. While some might come to the realization using logic and prepare accordingly, I learned using a method some call “the hard way.”

Pictured: the hard way.

Running at high altitude limits your oxygen, which puts a lot of strain on your heart, lungs, and muscles. All three of which, as it turns out, were very important to my ability to run successfully that day. I’m not super aware of the science, so I’ll put it in more literal terms:

Running at high altitude LITERALLY makes you feel like you’re missing a lung. For those of you who are unfamiliar, I’ve made a handy chart:

So when I turned around to go home, barely a mile into my run, I adopted the form most runners are familiar with from when a run is going very, very badly. I shuffled forward, barely lifting my feet, at about the speed of an octogenarian heading to dinner in a nursing home when their least favorite meal is being served. My head was bowed and my shoulders were hunched in exhaustion, but I kept the last defiant stance of any runner who just won’t quit: my forearms remained bent at the elbows, despite the fact that I was moving between zero and one mile per hour.

Wild bears approached me, assumed I was playing dead, and politely retreated into the forest. Grass, long deprived of sunlight by my passing shadow, browned and died. My leg muscles atrophied and were revived with every step. And still I gasped for air, my heart thudding wildly in my chest.

Now I truly understand why the Olympic athletes train at higher altitudes. It is so much harder than running where there is oxygen aplenty. But running with low oxygen is like getting a sports car that usually takes premium gas to run on Mike’s Hard Lemonade. If you can modify the engine to get fuel from that, just imagine its performance when you give it the good stuff again.

I, however, am not an Olympic athlete. I was just on vacation in Colorado. So I did not run very frequently while I was there. If you ever want to run at high altitude and have not experienced it before, like me, do yourself a favor and SEVERELY limit your distance and pace. Any confidence you feel at the start is most likely the result of oxygen deprivation.

And remember: the least you can do, no matter how slowly you’re running, is keep those forearms up. Even if walkers are passing you while you do it, you’re still, somehow, more a runner than them. At least as far as I'm concerned.

The Color Run Disaster

This past weekend, I participated in the Color in Motion 5k with my girlfriend, Kayla. It's a color run, and it was her first 5k. Our goal was to make good time and run the whole thing. Looking back, I have to laugh at our hopeless naivety.

I laugh, of course, to keep from crying. Crying multicolored tears.

I had never done a color run before, and the event was unbelievably busy. Thousands milled around the race area. Since attendance benefited the Special Olympics, this is of course very good. And, in general, I would recommend color runs to people who want to have fun and not worry about running. For runners who take races in any way seriously, however, I would caution you to stay away.

To clarify: a color run is where everyone gets bags of colored powder, wears white shirts, and throws the powder everywhere until everyone is a rainbow-smeared mess. But since not all the powder hits people, much of it stays hovering in the air, like an LGBTQ-friendly haze of mustard gas creeping through the barbed wire fences and over the muddy trenches of a WWI battlefield. When you run through these colored clouds, the powder gets in your eyes, your mouth, and, after a while, your very soul.

In fact, there are several moments before and during the race where you are specifically directed  to throw your powder in the air. But for a tall guy like me, this was not always ideal.

So after the first three groups of people were allowed to go, Kayla and I got started (this was half an hour after the official race start time).

So, here's why this color run was not good for people interested in, you know, running. First off, most people did not run. Those that did usually did not do so for long. Now, this would not be a problem if the race was at all organized to separate the running group, or had pacers set up. Of course, it did not. Because of this, half of our energy and time was spent dodging oblivious walkers who had apparently never heard of staying to one side. In fact, some of them seemed to have practiced getting in the way of people who needed to pass.

But the worst hell of all? The color gates. I don't know if that's what they're actually called, but there were four of them throughout the race, and each one was worse than the last, for two reasons.

The first reason has to do with what the color gate actually is. It's a ten or so foot stretch of path that is plastered in one particular color. A handful of people have thousands of bags of that color that they constantly beam people with as they pass. As a result, the color gate looks like a part of the world that didn't load in a video game, so instead of grass and path and trees and sky, there's just a blank patch, one solid cloud of color that swallows people up. If you ever read The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, think of it like that nightmare-cloud thing that floats around the sea and is filled with unimaginable horrors. Think of it exactly like that.

The second reason is partly tied with the race's lack of organization I talked about earlier. There is not separate race or time for the kids; they run with everyone else, and, for some reason, being surrounded by rainbow colored clouds, free candy, and adults encouraging them to throw things has them all riled up. In the color gates, dozens of them sprint back and forth to get covered in the powder, forgetting momentarily that this is a race with hundreds of people needing to get through.

Near the end of the race, exhausted from the run and with our lungs probably looking like Easter eggs, we came upon the blue gate. I'm still not sure what exactly happened in the blue gate. Children were running, screaming. They flew through the air like mortar shells.

We barely made it out, listening to the faint giggles of the child predators that now hunted in the blue gate. We knew, then, that we had not made it out. We had been allowed to leave.

So yeah, our time wasn't great, and it was clear that the race was not designed for actual runners. It should be called a color mosey.

But of course, everything was for a good cause, and I'm hopeful that one day I'll be able to look at the color blue again without getting a panic attack. Small steps.

A Runner's Roundup for June 25, 2014

The First (and Only) Disneyland Marathon. I heard they thawed Walt out to run it. (via +MousePlanet)

Check out Oregon's "prison run." Wait wait wait: they're helping prisoners run FASTER?! What's next, tunneling classes? (via +OPB - Oregon Public Broadcasting)

5 tips for running in the heat. #6: wait until September. (via +Men's Health magazine)

Boston Marathon winner Meb Keflezighi will purposefully finish last in upcoming race. Ah yes, I also finish last on purpose, for charity. That's exactly what I do. (via +Atlanta Journal-Constitution)

Infographic that puts a marathon's distance in perspective.  They didn't have burritos in the "Indulgent Foods" section, so I don't think any of this applies to me. (via +Rock 'n' Roll Marathon Series)

Longest footrace on earth happening in New York right now. 3,100 miles. That distance still wouldn't get them to the front of the line at an Apple Store when the new iPhone comes out. (via +Sri Chinmoy Marathon Team Italia)

Barefoot running debate rages on. The nursery rhyme should be changed to, "And these little piggies caused a great deal of stress and arguing in the running industry. (via FiveThirtyEight)

Finally, below: does stretching/warming up actually help? I sure hope so, or I've looked silly many times for nothing. (via +AsapSCIENCE)

Running vs. Other Sports

Last week, I tweeted (twittered?) something that I have been thinking about ever since.

Many of my tweets blast popular American pastimes.

Is that a fair thing to say? Am I being a good judge of running and other sports? Was that an evenhanded hash tag to use? Questions like these plagued me after tweeting (twittering?) what I now view as a rash and immature tweet. Truly, I took my tweeting terribly too lightly.

So in my blog this week, I want to examine how distance running compares to some other popular sports in the category of coordination and grace. Keep in mind that I don't include most track and field running events as "distance running," since sprinting and hurdles obviously require an enormous amount of grace. Hypnotically beautiful grace. Grace out the ass, you could say.

I will be as fair and even handed as possible. Kind of.


BASEBALL

Baseball, or "Yankee Cricket," is a game with nine innings, four bases, a handful of players, and lots of steroids. Invented in 1776 as a way to hit apples at the British from a great distance away, it evolved during the 19th and 20th century into America's favorite national pastime. The apples went on to become apple pie, most famous for being as American as apple pie.

Today, baseball is played in order to sell $15 beers and $10 hot dogs to people watching the game from a great distance away in something called a "stadium."

Now, baseball requires a lot of grace and coordination. The pitcher has to throw the balls super fast. The batter has to hit those balls, even though they're moving super fast. But not only do they have to have hand-eye coordination, some of them have to run as well. The outfielders run to get the ball. The batters have to run to base. I have to run and find a bathroom without a huge line after drinking too many overpriced beers.

Running only involves running. You have to have a good form, but nothing that requires the kind of coordination a pitcher or outfielder has to have when throwing a ball. Granted, I have only played baseball a handful of times. I can't really remember much about it, though...

I wonder why.

FOOTBALL

I insulted football earlier when I implied, via tweeting, that it required the least grace and coordination of all non-running sports. On the surface, this appears to be true. Football was invented by adding padding, helmets, and more breaks for commercials to a game of rugby.

The objective, based on dozens of movies I half-remember, is to have two lines of men hug while the quarterback fades back and throws a "Hail Mary" to a receiver in the end zone to win in the final seconds of the championship game. If the movie is set before 1980, the team's success should also teach their community not to be so racist. Oh, also: a player whom no one thought would be good should be good at the last minute, and the best player from earlier in the season should be in the hospital watching the game and cheering.

But you know what? I have to hand it to football, I think it still requires more grace and coordination than running. Football involves only short bursts of running, but also throwing, catching, and dancing after you get a touchdown. So again, you need a certain level of coordination to play.

Not a HIGH level, mind you.

SOCCER

Soccer, or "British Football," is a gathering of dramatic actors who chase a ball around a big field to distract spectators from their true passion: faking injuries. Now, I've seen some footage of these faked injuries, and I'm a little surprised the Oscars haven't nominated a couple of these performances.

Pictured: true dedication

However, these players have gotten remarkably good at the whole "chasing the ball around" guise, and I have to say that it must take just as much dedication to perform like some of them do. Not only do they have to run, but they have to do so with a ball at their feet. Everything runners have to do and more.

Plus, I've always loved soccer. It was the one sport I was good at besides running.

See? This time, I was the goalie.

So, my highly scientific findings indicate that while running does require some grace and coordination, these three sports require more. Here, have a chart:

Have a good weekend!

A Runner's Roundup for June 19, 2014

A Runner's Guide to Pooping in Urban Landscapes. Here's a good rule of thumb: Clench. Everything. (via +GearJunkie.com)

An appeal for race directors to think of people at the back of the pack. It's a good point. I hadn't even checked my middle-packer privilege. (via +Patty Holliday)

Check out this country where jogging is a crime. Ironically, speed-walking is the national sport. (via +BBC News)

A report on the running industry. Participation numbers are high. One could almost say...a runner's high? No? Okay then. (via Running USA)

The Oatmeal's Do's and Do Not's of your first marathon. Comics paired with commentary on running? Crazy. (via +Matthew Inman)

How runners can keep their feet happy. They forgot "sandpaper away your calluses." (via +Washington Post)

Salads. And eggs. I eat one of those things a lot more than the other. (via +iRunFar)

Why I love running. So true. (via +The Guardian)

The Do's and Don'ts of Summer Running

Well, it's happened. It's the final, frustrating irony of being a runner in the Midwest, where it seems like we get the worst of all seasons.

It's hot now. And I wish it were colder.

I have just enough distance on this past winter to remember its low temperatures fondly as I now run, panting, under a brutal summer sun.

I have a short memory

Okay, I guess it's not quite as bad as this past winter. I don't have to watch out for ice under my feet. I don't have to cover up any exposed skin to avoid frostbite. I don't have to kick aside a foot of snow with each step.

But summer has its own hazards and important rules. I was running last summer too, but not for long enough to encounter any of the season's worst dangers. Now that I'm increasing the distance of my Saturday runs (10 miles tomorrow!), I've had to learn some hard lessons about what you should and shouldn't do in high temperatures.

Do: Wear Sunscreen

For those of you with a lighter complexion, any time in the sun at all ends up necessitating some form of skin protection. While a parasol and floppy hat suit me fine at slower speeds, running doesn't allow that kind of access to high fashion.

Dammit

"It's fine," I thought a few weeks ago. "Most of my run is along tree-lined paths with plenty of shade, I don't need sunscreen." I realized, though, that even brief, intermittent stretches of sunlight, over a long enough run, are going to leave their mark. I also realized, once I had run far enough to reach a new section of my path, that there are long, uncovered stretches of the North Shore Channel Trail. I realized this after my post-run shower, when I saw this:

So make sure you know the level of sun exposure you will receive on your run, and get some sunscreen on beforehand. Or risk looking like that.

Don't: Wear Dark Colors

I remember learning about how black absorbs heat, while white reflects it, in school. Not in the classroom, mind you, but during recess, which at my elementary school was sometimes held on a blacktop parking lot behind the classrooms. In Nashville, during the hottest days of the school year, we all learned that lesson about colors the hard way.

The same rule applies to running clothes, so wear something light if you have it. Otherwise, you might end up like Jimmy. Poor, clumsy Jimmy.

Do: Have Access to Water

This one seems like a no-brainer, but I was frustrated by the idea of having to carry around a water bottle with me during my whole run. I realized then that it wasn't a complete necessity to have a water bottle if you could map out reliable water fountains along your run. Luckily, I have enough along mine to re-hydrate regularly. During the hottest parts of my run, when I've lost most of the 70% of myself that is water, this becomes a necessity.

I've also considered getting one of those water backpacks with the straws coming up to your mouth. They would probably be good for running, but I've also considered other uses. Namely, secretly drinking vodka while in formal wear.

Like James Bond

Don't: Wait Until Noon to Run

I know, non-morning people. I know that the idea of morning running is terrifying. But I think morning running is great, especially for non-morning people, because it beats the heat. Running in the evening is also a good solution, and most runners end up doing one or the other to navigate around their workday. But the weekend is when the longest runs usually take place, and it's important to remember and compensate for the higher temperatures later in the day.

When my longer runs stretch into the noon hour, I can feel how much more of my energy is sapped by the rising temperature. I've made a handy chart to outline how the sun's position relates to my general well being:

So if you end up running longer or going out later, pace yourself appropriately. It might be easy to overdo it.


That's all for now. Stay cool!

A Runner's Roundup for June 11, 2014

Running coach fired for running Boston Marathon. In other ironic news, professor forced to resign after sewing patches to the elbows of his tweed jacket. Then, goldfish plagued by painful old memories commits suicide. Elephant with Alzheimer's chokes on peanut. I end a joke before it goes on too long. (via Fittish)

Would you ever run a race naked? Naked? No. Covered head to toe in body paint that makes me look like a pear-shaped Mystique from X-men? Sign me up. (via Short, Round, and Fast)

Meet a man who went from a wheelchair to being an elite ultra-runner. AND he works as a chef. Inspiring! (via Micro Miracles Matter)

Wearable sensor can tell you if you're dehydrated. I understand this for patient observation, but do you know what else tells athletes they're dehydrated? Their bodies. In, like, a million different ways. (via +Engadget)

A women and 26 other college students will run 4,000 miles in support of cancer research. (via +Last Word On Sports)

Lessons Track could learn from Baseball. I think we could also learn a lesson from figure skating and add more glitter to our running clothes. Just saying. (via +Phoebe Wright)

John "The Penguin" Bingham announced retirement. Bruce "The Batman" Wayne remains suspicious. (via +Runner's World Magazine)

The People Who Can't Not Run. Authored by the lady who doesn't love to not use double negatives. (via +The Atlantic)

Why I Run

** Cross-post from my contribution to NBC Chicago's Stride Blog! **

"Why do I run?" is a question I would only ask when I’m not running, because running usually looks a lot different when you’re not doing it. So I prefer the question, “Why am I running?”

That has occurred to me many times in the year since I started. It appeared during most of my first half-mile runs when all I wanted to do was stop. The question continued to follow throughout my first full mile, and then my second.

As my times and distances got better, winter set in, and “Why am I running?” trailed me on those dark morning runs where ice formed on my eyelashes and air froze in my throat.

Now that spring is here, I spend more time running every week, and the question still seeps up daily from under the exhaustion of my fourth and fifth mile.

And now I suspect that the question “Why am I running?” will never leave me for as long as I run.

But I prefer that question because, in the midst of a run, I also know the answer. All runners do. Running keeps us moving forward.

Literally, of course, running is about moving forward. No matter how slowly I go (and I sometimes get mistaken for a living statue), I move my feet and finish the run.

But running goes deeper than just physical progress. At the time I started, I was unemployed, unsure of myself, and drifting. I started running and kept running because I recognized that no matter how slow or exhausting, running represented what I lacked in so many other parts of my life: moving forward.

Since I could not always control my forward momentum elsewhere, I ran to make my own progress. I clung to my new ritual, and the question “Why am I running?” was answered in the catharsis of that next step, and then the next.

Even on days when nothing else went right, I went to sleep knowing that my odometer had ticked up a few more miles. And since I’d moved forward with running, I was able to move forward with other parts of my life, too.

So why do I run? On any given day, there’s a different answer. Mostly, though, I keep running to discover where I’m going next.

Why I Want to Run with a Dog

So I've altered my running schedule a bit to include an extra rest day just before an extra-long run on Saturday. For example, this past weekend, I ran 8.2 miles. Running that far is extremely satisfying, but it does take a toll on my ability to do anything else for the rest of the day. Like walk effectively.

But not only is it physically tough, but it can get just plain boring to run for that long. As I continue adding distance in the weeks to come, I'm trying to think of ways to make things more interesting. There are obviously a lot of options, but my mind seems to have settled on one: I want to run with a dog.

Dogs make everything better. Science has proven that. Pavlov, I think. Playing fetch? Better with a dog. Relaxing around the house? Better with a dog. Getting rid of dog food?

Definitely better with a dog

A dog would infuse my runs with new energy and purpose. I wouldn't be able to slow down, because I'd have to keep up with the dog. I wouldn't be able to complain about the heat, because I don't even have fur.

I see other people running with dogs and I just get jealous. I especially get jealous of those people who run with itty-bitty dogs. Think of how committed a little dog would have to be to run next to an enormous, earth stomping skyscraper that is an adult human. Think of how terrifying. But dogs don't feel that sort of pessimism and negativity.

Dogs just love being outside and going about doing whatever, and I think that kind of energy is one that all runners start with, but it can get buried as running becomes a habit and then just part of our routine.

But I can't get a dog. I live in the city with cats that I do love, but who I could not run with. I haven't tried, but I know enough to know how it would go:

I think I should look into dog walking/running for people. Are interviews for those positions conducted mainly with the dogs themselves? That would be awesome.

The dog-interviewing process is notoriously corrupt.

I'll have to look into this further.

In any case, I really do think that having the attitude of a dog is essential for anyone who wants to get into running. Dogs are the best at truly living in the now, and that's what you have to love. If I think too much about running 8 miles, I get deflated. If I try to recapture how great running in the past was to motivate myself, it doesn't work. But if I obstinately just GO on the run and let my mind wander, I'll eventually start loving how alive I feel and how nice it is outside and how pretty green the grass is and how the wind feels and how I'm a little itchy and how woooooooooo!

A Runner's Roundup for June 4, 2014

10 things you should do to become a slower runner. #11: Listen to Achy-Breaky Heart on repeat during your run. You will eventually pass out on the side of the road, blood pouring from your ears. (via We Run and Ride)

Controversy surrounding the broken five minute beer mile record. What, did the person "hop" too much during their attempt? Were their too many "hops" all around? Do you get the "joke" yet? (via +The Wall Street Journal)

91 year old woman sets marathon record in San Diego. Elsewhere, a 25 year old blogger cuts his run short because his tummy hurts. (via +Charlotte Observer)

10 sunscreen safety rules for runners. I wish I could tan. My skin tends to go from porcelain white to fire engine red in about thirty seconds of sunlight exposure. (via +Saltmarsh Running)

You should know about Joan Benoit, the woman who won the first women's Olympic marathon in 1984. Didn't predict that, did you, Orwell? (via +Wikipedia)

Below, a reporter tries to keep up with two marathon runners. As revenge next week, those marathon runners will bother her when she's writing. Tit for tat. (via +Universal Sports Network)

Today is National Running Day! That makes tomorrow National Sore Legs Day.

Meet American's fastest kindergarten teacher. The protein he eats for recovery? Paste. (via +RunningTimesMagazine)

3 Surprising Downsides to Distance Running

People get addicted to running because of all its positive mental and physical effects. But like any addiction, there are certain inevitable downsides that addicts are usually happy to forget. I'm going to call these downsides "track" marks, because I love puns and, consequently, hate humor.

As I look back on my year of running, I've noticed a few of these "track" marks sneaking around my day to day life. They're hard to spot because running is so great. Runners love that high so much that they're willing to do accept some crazy things to get another hit. Like...

1. Laundry starts to take over your life.

Full disclosure: I'm a sweater. I sweat when it's cold, I sweat when it's warm, and I especially sweat when I run. It can get a little gross.

Only slightly exaggerated

This means that, when I get home from a run, my clothes are wet and smell like the briny underside of a pirate ship. Not that I really know what that smells like.

And you can't just put those clothes in the hamper. They're a wet and sopping mess, and being crumpled in a hamper just means that they'll stay wet and continue to get smellier as you pile more dirty laundry on top of them.

And you can't really hang them out to dry, because wherever you choose to hang them will automatically become the smelliest room in your house.

Outside is also not really an option.

My solution? I shower with them. Doesn't stop them from being wet, but at least it kills the smell. Somewhat.

2. You develop very specific muscle groups

Running is great for cardiovascular health, but it's not a sport that focuses on building muscle. But if you do it long enough, your legs will inevitably begin to get bulkier. And hey, I'm not complaining about that. I'm complaining about how awkward it is when only one half of your body gets developed muscle.

I feel like my body had a decision to make concerning losing torso fat, and that decision was to add more muscle to the legs to compensate. I wish I could flip that decision, and have my body just lose the flab rather than compensate for it with more muscle.

Now that I think about it, why can't we have more say over these seemingly arbitrary decisions our body makes? I would like a preferences menu for my body. Science, get on that.

3. Days you don't run will ruin you

Here's the kicker about being addicting to running: withdrawal is very real. And like a drug or alcohol addiction, if it dominates your life the withdrawal starts fast and hard.

I didn't know what was wrong on my rest days at first. Everything just felt off. As the day wears on, I wear down until I feel like a deflated mess.

Again, not much exaggeration

Even though it can be hard to do, and even though it will exhaust you, not having running in your life is like suddenly being separated from a long term significant other. You kind of forgot how to function without them. Of course, it was just my body missing the big package of endorphins running lovingly delivers, but the reality of that can be just depressing. What if I get injured? What if I get sick? What if I join a cult that expressly forbids running?

Running is so great that it holds a lot of importance in my life, and anything that has that much importance also has the power to get away with things and potentially hurt you. In that way, maybe it's better to think of it like a long term relationship rather than an addictive drug. Ultimately, it does build you up over time, rather than tear you down. And it's also worth the risk of withdrawal, or weird bodily development, or smelly clothes. Just like a real relationship, right?

Right?