The Nerdy Essay On Hills

Working with the Austin Marathon and Half Marathon, I've heard a lot of whining about the hills on our courses, mostly from wussy flatlanders from places like "Dallas" or "Houston", which are clearly lame, in addition to being flat. I also hear some occasional whining from people about the hills we run on our long runs. In response, I usually challenge them to construct any route longer than seven or eight miles that has no hills, and doesn't involve running back and forth across a parking lot.

The thing is, you're better for running hills, whether your goal race is hilly or not. Arthur Lydiard, arguably the greatest running coach of all time, realized it, ran his runners on crazy hills in New Zealand, and brought hardcore hill training to the coaching world. So, blame him, not me.

Personally, I like hills. Living, biking, and later, running here in Austin, there was no choice, so I decided that if I could be a good hill runner, that would give me an advantage over other people in my quest to join the lower middle of the distance-running pack. Hills can build strength and stamina pretty quickly, and you can do better than a lot of other people simply through proper form and some knowledge.

I should also point out that I am a tremendous geek, and when I'm running, I'm thinking through all this stuff, and how best to try to explain it. So... here ya go.

Running Uphill
It helps to think about the physics of hill running, which starts with some geometry. Think about the geometry of your body in relation to the ground - you've got a triangle formed by: the imaginary line from the top of your head intersecting the ground at a 90 degree angle (side A); the line along the ground from there to your front foot (side B), and the line from that point back to the top of your head, which is the triangle's hypotenuse (side C).

Now, think also about the vector of gravity's pull... on a hill, it's not perpendicular to the ground, right? It's straight to the center of the earth (let's stick with Newtonian physics and ignore more recent modifications of it). Hence the suckiness or coolness of running up, or down, a hill.

Ideally, on a hill, you maintain the same upright, hips under you form as you do when you're on flat ground. Of course, your ability to do that depends on the steepness of the hill.

So, once a hill hits a certain level of steepness, the geometry of our bodies makes it impractical to stay perpendicular to the ground, because you'd fall back on your butt. So, we increase forward lean. This makes Side A, in front of our bodies (top of the head, perpendicular to the ground) shorter, and lengthens the hypotenuse, which is from the top of your head to the foot pushing through the strike behind you. Because of the way our legs bend, and because of the way we're best able to exert force for maximum traction and power, the lean forward makes sense.

The big problem is that most people get their lean by bending at the waist. First of all, as we've talked about on flat ground, this angle between the hips and leg is biomechanically inefficient.

Next, the butt starts falling out behind you, changing your center of gravity, and distorting the geometry of your body. Once that happens, people tend to hunker their shoulders, which is often also a result of people dropping their heads down.

The result - an inefficient, tiring, difficult-to-breathe, and not-attractive running posture. No bueno.

The answer is in your hips, shoulders, and head. Keep your head up - be looking at the next point on the hill that you're aiming for. Keep your shoulders relaxed, but back, allowing a good, unobstructed flow of air. Finally, keep your hips under you. On steeper hills, it helps me to imagine pressing my hips forward into the hill.

Move your arms. Their relation to the body will change on hills - they'll be moving a bit more in front of your shoulders, but still not crossing the front of your body. When your legs are failing a bit, focus on moving the arms, and the legs will follow.

A lot of people just strike with the foot and lift straight up. On hills in particular, they're missing out on a huge bit of strength, just in your foot and calves. So, strike, and roll all the way so that when you're taking off, it's off the front tip of your shoes.

Finally, break the hill into manageable chunks. Find a landmark, and just focus on getting to it, then pick another and get to it. If you try to look up the 8th street alley, or some of the other hills we'll be running, you'll end up trying to find a tree and a bit of rope to hang yourself.

Running Downhill
The general rule is that uphills and headwinds are harder than downhills and tailwinds are easy. But make no mistake, downhills run properly and patiently can give you a good deal of time back. However, they can also wreck your legs in a longer race.

On the downhills, the temptation is to lean back and let gravity carry you. This is actually not good.

Think back to the geometry thing. When you lean back, you feel more in control because the hypotenuse is intersecting the ground at an angle that matches the vector of gravity's pull - in other words, you don't feel like you're going to fall on your face. The problem is, leaning back also stretches that hypotenuse out - to connect with the ground on each stride, your body has to get longer in front of you. To accomplish this, two things usually happen. First, you lengthen the front part of your stride by stretching the leg out, straightening the knee out and striking on your heel. Because you're also shortening side A of your triangle (the imaginary back line), and lengthening side B (the bottom), gravity gets to accelerate you a bit longer on each stride, resulting in higher speed and greater impact.

Bottom line - bad for your knees, ankles, hips, spine... hell, everything. It even makes my teeth hurt.

Meanwhile, if you're also trying to move your feet faster over a longer distance (side B), you might actually be working harder and getting your heart rate higher than when you're on flat ground. Also dumb.

The answer is to run downhill with the same form and angle as you run on flat ground, and uphill. When you do it, you're going to feel like you're falling forward. This is why you want strong quadriceps muscles, and a quicker, but not too quick turnover. This is a matter of just getting the right feel running downhill.

I try to get to a point of turnover where I'm still striking midfoot, but immediately rolling forward and through the strike. There's a split second between the initial strike of the foot, and the point at which your shoes and joints compress, and you get the sudden, sharpest moment of impact. That's what you need to minimize. Rolling forward immediately helps dissipate some of that energy.

The cautionary warning here is that on a long, very hilly course, like the Austin Marathon and Half Marathon, slowing yourself too much will wear out your quads and increase the odds of them cramping up later... So, it can be a fine line.

Everyone wants to bank time running downhill. But even if you're being conservative and patient, you're just gonna pick up some speed. Side B of your triangle (the travel along the ground) is going to naturally lengthen a bit when you factor in that you're still falling downhill a little, making each stride, even at the same cadence, cover a little more ground.

More importantly, managing a downhill gives you a chance to recover. In the Capitol 10K, or the Austin Marathon or Half Marathon, managing the course is everything, and will make or break your day.

So, that's a lot to absorb, I know. The point here is to think about the physics and form involved in running hills. Stay conscious of them, remember the few rules about form, keep working on building strength and stamina, and you'll be kicking butt on the hills in no time.

the long, dull speech you missed.

Agent Smith: Why, Mr. Anderson? Why do you do it? Why get up? Why keep fighting? Do you believe you're fighting for something? For more than your survival? Can you tell me what it is? Do you even know?... You must be able to see it, Mr. Anderson. You must know it by now. You can't win. It's pointless to keep fighting. Why, Mr. Anderson? Why? Why do you persist?

Neo: Because I choose to.

There have been so many nights in the past few years, when things didn’t make a lot of sense to me, or I couldn’t get over something lost, or get past a mistake I’d made, that I had the overwhelming desire to go out to Congress Avenue, find the start line in the dark, and run the entire marathon course. I have found that the farther out of running shape I get, the less of a good idea it sounds like.

For two hours, or 2:50, or 4:10, or five hours, you have one goal, and that’s to run 13.1 miles, or to run 26.2 miles. A mission statement could not be simpler – go the distance, or at least as far as you can possibly go.

I could care less how fast or slow you run today. Times, Boston qualifiers, personal records, even winning, are horribly inadequate measures of who we are, and of our hearts. Great people are not really made by their accomplishments.

There will be things outside your control: the weather; the roads; the people around you; how your body feels; how hard you did or didn’t train in the past. Those conditions may set the stage, but great people are not made by the conditions they find themselves in.

You can control the choices you make, and that’s the beauty of this sport. Right now, we can’t do anything about the physical or mental state in which you’re lining up to race. But once the gun goes off, all that will matter are how you face the choices ahead of you today.

Great people are constantly and consistently defining themselves by their choices. You started with the choice to take up the challenge of running a marathon or half marathon. You made the choice to train, and over six months, you made countless choices to get up, to show up, to run. You make a choice today by stepping to that starting line, and putting yourself in a situation where you will be faced with even more tough, painful choices.

That you are here today says so much about you – the choices you’ve made to get here define the story of your character… so far. I want to tell you all that what you’ve done is enough. But if that were the case, then you could all turn around and go back to bed, and I know none of you would choose that. You are not people that decide that you are just good enough.

The other night, Lorrie and I discussed whether our choices define us. I think that they do, but it’s a non-stop process – there’s never a finished resume, never a final test score, until we die. We have to be responsible for our failures, and we get to take credit for our successes, but who we are is never set in stone, because there’s always another choice to be made, just ahead.

You have to be mature and intelligent today. If you’re feeling ill, dehydrated, or really injured, then slowing down or stopping is every bit the smart and equally tough choice.

But hopefully, that won’t be the case. And if not, then every time you want to slow down, but don’t really have to, you’ll really get to choose the kind of person you are. Every time you want to walk, but don’t, you’ll win. Every time you want to quit, but don’t, you get to be a hero. That’s where you might draw on the “why” that I talked about. That’s what our shirts are about, the “why”.

So, today, choose how you run. Take what the course gives you, and be smart with how you use it. Take what your body can give you, and take a little more.

Today, choose to be who you want to be. No matter what you do for a living, how much money you have, what degree hangs on your wall, no matter what mistakes you’ve made, how you’ve succeeded, or what you’ve lost, today, for that chunk of time you’re out on the road, you can be the kind of person you want to be. You all have the training, and the will - I’ve seen it in every one of you, and I am extremely proud of you all. Now is your time. Don’t let it go.

the "why"

The single question, the greatest paralyzer, and greatest motivator, of my running, has been, "Why?" Why should I run today? What will it matter? Why should I push myself past the point of discomfort? What would it mean?

Three years ago, I lost my job coaching for another group. I had quit my regular law job a year earlier. Things were, to put it delicately, in the shitter. Every day, "why" was the overriding question.

At first, it didn't need an answer. My friends, some of you, answered it with, "get your ass up, let's go run." that's how this all started, and that's what I always need to remember is the heart in our colorful logo - the love of friends.

But that can't answer everything. The question remains, plagues me, haunts me. Many days, I let it pin me to the bed, to the couch, to a dark, hopeless vision of what that day, or the next, holds.

Every day, we have to fight. Every day, we have to answer that question. Brian has to ask and answer it, after almost 21 flawless, awe-inspiring weeks of running and putting the work in. Lorrie and Anna Beth had to ask why they should persevere after injuries and illness.

Nancy has faced the question. One Tuesday night, she faced it through the entire workout. She had to think back to why she pulled the treadmill out into her living room the day after one of the toughest events in her life. Tuesday night, she wanted to quit, in the face of, "Why go on?" But she found four reasons, one for each repeat she had left: two to take back some measure of control that had been taken from her; two for her kids.

Don't get me wrong - you don't need drama or trauma, you don't need to need all of this, like some of us do. Jim and Eve are rocks, always (mostly proportionately) happy to be there. But do not be fooled - they wake up at 5:30am on Saturday mornings, and unless they are really cool robots, they, too, hear that question in their heads, and they must either answer it, or as many of us do on many days, ignore it.

It is easy to lose the thread, the faith, the reasons, the will, the love, to do this. But you each have, for six long months. You faced that question, and many others, and from day to day, you either found an answer, or chose to ignore the question and, to borrow the phrase that works, "just do it."

Your training is done. Now there’s just the waiting. But, there will be a few more days, more battles to be fought to get yourself through these days, and then, through the race, to quell your fears and doubts and face your goal with the desire and intent and will to meet it.

You've come this far, and each of you have repeatedly answered the questions, met the challenges, won enough battles. From here on out, there is no, "I hope..." There can be no more doubts in your heart or mind, because you've put in the work. Whatever you've left behind you in your training is behind you, pushed through. Whatever happens on race day will happen. But you now have every reason to know that you are ready, and that you're not being led to the race, you're stepping to the start line, willing, prepared, and determined to face whatever the day gives you.

Race Week Preparation

So, you’re running the Austin Half Marathon or Marathon this Sunday. Most likely, you’re going to obsess a little (or a lot) this week, so you might as well make it productive…

Get familiar with the course –Go to the race website and print out several copies of the map. Put one in your car, one on your desk at work, one on the nightstand, or on the fridge. Drive the course, if you haven’t run it much. Familiarity will (help) flatten hills and shorten miles. Stop at the bottom of hills, get out, and walk or run up them, so you know what to expect. When you near the top, remember beating the hill. Read the race plan.

Visualize - After driving the course, pick up one of those maps every now and then, and run the race in your head (at high speed - please don't sit at work staring at a map for three hours). Run chunks of it in your head. Feel the rhythm of the stretches that will require more effort, and the ones where you'll be able to recover. Break the course into manageable chunks of two to three miles each.

Plan Nutrition – Know when you'll take nutrition. Work backwards from when you want your last gel or whatever, look at where the water stops are on the map, and plan accordingly. Buy your somethingcose fuel of choice now – some stores will sell out of everything but "Rancid Horseapple" gel by Friday. This is not time to experiment with new brands or flavors. Don’t rely entirely on someone meeting you with supplies. Going nutritionless through the last 12 miles of a marathon can damage a friendship.

Have your outfit ready.
Check the weather frequently. Then, just accept that the weather will be what it will be. It might be 29, windy and cold (as it was in 2006). Fine - what will you wear? Find those pieces, lay them out now.

It might be 74 and humid (2005?). Fine - what will you wear?

Dress for 20 degrees warmer than the temperature. You should know by now what you like. Now is not the time to try new shorts, socks, jogbras, or shirt. That's a sure entry to that popular game show, “What’s Gonna Chafe?”

It will most likely be just a little cold this weekend. It’s good to have some disposable clothes - go to Goodwill, or dig out that hideous sweatshirt, you know, the Alabama one, and use it. Up to 40% of body heat is lost through your head, most of the rest through your extremities. So, hat and gloves are the most crucial things in cold weather.

When you run, don’t be too quick to discard your clothing. At first, you’re going to heat up as blood flow is someone uniform. But after a while, your body will redirect the flow to keep your core warm, and you’ll end up feeling cold again.

In case of rain, have something disposable, or a trash bag with holes for the arms and head. It's nice to be dry while standing around at the start line, then you can rip it off when you get moving.

The sun often emerges – even if it’s cold, you can get a sunburn, so don’t forget sunblock. Got Bodyglide? Bandaids?

Thursday and Friday:
Hydrate. Get a couple of liters of water in you a day. Use ElectroMix, Nuun, or something similar to get plenty of electrolytes.

Friday night:
Get your race packet and check out the expo, or do it early Saturday. This is actually your best night to get your carbs.

Saturday:
Stay off your feet. This is not the time for a hike, lawn work, walking at the 2006 Chicago Marathon expo for four hours trying to decide if I should buy and wear new clothes for the marathon.

Know where you’re parking Sunday morning, and how you’ll get there. Know the street closures, and have a back-up plan.

Eat early – Unless you already have a consistent routine (that works), eat at 5:30 or 6, be done by 7 or 7:30. You want to be able to sleep, and you want the food to digest, so that it'll be usable in the race, not filling up your lower intestines demanding immediate release at mile five.

Don't drink too late - you want to be able to sleep without getting up constantly through the night.

Get everything together Saturday night:

• Put your D-chip on your shoe!
• Pin your race bib to your shirt or shorts. This could take you half an hour to get it perfectly straight. It has to be straight. It just does.
• Put your gels, electrolyte capsules, whatever you're taking on the course, in whatever you're taking them in.
• Pack your drop bag with your post-race stuff –dry clothes and shoes, and a little cash hidden in those shoes for the finish line food court.
• Make sure you have everything you need for breakfast.

Work out your morning schedule backwards:

• 7am start time.
• You need to be parked and on-site at 6:00am, AT THE LATEST.
• Figure out how long it’ll take to get downtown, conservatively.
• You want to use the restroom (twosies) before you leave. Give yourself time (because you never know) - so, seated 15-20 minutes before you need to leave.
• You need to allow at least an hour for your breakfast to digest, so you need to be eating an hour before that.
• Set your alarm for the time you arrive at (you'll eat first).
• Set multiple alarms. Use your alarm clock, your phone, your running watch. Get a friend to call you. Leave nothing to chance.

Race morning:

• GET THE HELL UP. No snooze button.
• Eat first, and have some water.
• If you've done things right, you have an hour to dress, make sure your bib number really is straight, relax, and check the weather, and hope they don’t open with “Wow, it is really unpleasantly hot and humid out there.” IBM 10K, 2006.
• In case of severe weather, meteor strike, or uprising of giant robot aphids, check KLBJ AM 590 for information.

At the race:

• DO NOT BE LATE. Period. You need to park, drop your bag, and have time to relax, warm-up a little, and hit the porta-potty.
• Get to the start line by 6:50. Then... relax. Soak up this moment. Look around at all the people that are about to do something pretty amazing. You're one of them.

Attitude

So, here's the update from Brian, who's had two appointments with physical therapists this week:

dude,

my marathon just got a little more "marathonier". i have a few minor tears in my patella tendon where it meets my knee. i also have a "weak left side"-i am still a democrat and i am still gonna run damn it! i have a bunch of strenghthing exercises, am starting eliptical tomm and ran in a harness today that made me 40 pounds lighter. my physical therapist says this is the best time for this to happen and that i will be ready to go on v-day!

So, there's the update, but that doesn't tell the more important part of the story. In the last week, Brian has been one of the people whose attitude and perseverance have reminded me why we do this, and why it matters.

He's had two appointments, and talked to me after each. Yes, he was fortunate to have hopeful prognoses. But he also had the right take on it all - he was going to do what the docs prescribed, and wait and see. Several times, he said, "Hey, what else am I gonna do, give up?" He decided not to worry, not to assume the worst, not to give up, not to be bitter. He made a choice - he's decided that he's put in the hard work, which both helped to minimize the injury, and improves his chances of being able to recover and run the marathon. He's decided that he's going to continue putting in hard work, doing whatever he is able to do to get to the start line on February 14.

On race day, Brian will be able to go, or he won't. But beyond that practical view is the simple strength of belief and faith, that whether he can run or not is just another battle he faces. No matter how you feel today, that's the reality we all face, not just for running, but for everything we do. And that attitude, difficult as it is to embrace and maintain in the face of the things many of you have and continue to face, is a key thing to learn about running, and one of the things I think we can take from it into the rest of our lives.

I haven't done a good job with that in a while, but you guys have been unwittingly reminding me along the way. I think everyone has been sick or injured at some point this season. This week in particular, Brian, Lorrie, and Nancy really reminded me, and have made a difference - thanks for that.

Wednesday, I was talking to someone that had just been diagnosed with a pretty aggressive case of prostate cancer. We talked, and I found myself telling him about Brian's situation, and his attitude. I didn't want to compare the situations and trivialize cancer, but the fact remains that the choices of how to confront those situations is the same - what else are you gonna do? Give up, despair, get bitter, throw away the strength of body and character that you've worked on? Do you let go of all of that so easily? And, if you're not going to give up, then what? Do you keep fighting?

So, bottom line, keep at it. You have three weeks left. Keep making the hard choices to get out there and run, or to be patient and wait out an injury, or to stay in touch with why you're doing this. You have all put in the work, now you just have to keep your head together and keep everything in perspective. Stay positive, and I believe we're all going to get there.

Second Annual Night of the Moustache! Friday, November 20!

chop wood. carry water. run.

OK. Bedding down a little later than I'd like. This morning, looking at the start/finish area, and the people getting last easy runs in (I did not), I felt that the condition of my body and my heart didn't merit my being here. This should be more than a matter of showing up: you should feel a kinship based in shared experience and faith. 

But as the day went on, I remembered that: first, I worked really hard for almost six months in nasty conditions; and second, that tomorrow, at the start, the slate would be clean, and all that would matter would be how hard I chose to try during the 26.2 miles ahead. The failures of this summer and my lack of running in the past several weeks will be challenges to face, dragons laying in wait in my body and my mind and my heart.

I have to believe that my heart will push my body and mind to respond to the challenges. That's why we do this.  

So now, I just sleep, and in 9.5 hours, I just run. Chop wood. Carry water. Run.