Making Tracks

(This piece is for my book-in-progress titled See How We Run: Best Writings from 25 Years of Running Commentary. I am posting an excerpt here each week, this one from May 2003.)

Most of us have at least two homes – the one where we grew up (and never completely leave no matter how far we wander) and the one where we now live. I claim more than two homes, but the two that nourished my passion for this sport the most also happen to be America’s most fertile oases of track and field.

Everyone knows about Eugene, my hometown since 1981. Tell even the most casual sports fan that I live here, and I’m likely to see nods of familiarity followed by some combination of the words “Track Town,” “Prefontaine” and “Nike.” Tell a runner I’m from Eugene, and eyes light up with envy.

My ancestral home in track, and the sport’s second great center, is harder to guess at if you don’t know me. It isn’t Sacramento, which despite landing the 2000 and 2004 Olympic Trials plus the 2003 NCAA Championships, hasn’t yet gained a feel of permanence as a track mecca. Nor have Los Angeles, Indianapolis, New Orleans and Atlanta – sites of the 1984 through 1996 Trials, whose tracks are now either little-used or gone.

It isn’t Fayetteville, Stanford or Boulder, where great distance runners train now, but each city is either a newcomer to or a non-player in the major-meet business. Philadelphia has the history, with its century-old Penn Relays, but the city is so big and busy that “track” isn’t your first thought when you hear Philly’s name.

When I say my college was Drake, I’m likely to hear “Drake Relays.” One wit has written, “Drake is the only university named after a track meet.”

Sports fans may not have heard of my school and may not be able to place it geographically (a USATF news release once had the meet happening in Omaha), but they’ve heard of the Drake Relays. The track meet introduced me to the school in Des Moines, Iowa.

Drake was a magic name in my family. Charles Henderson, my late uncle, first took my future dad to the Relays when I was minus-15.

At plus-16 I ran there for the first time, in the high school mile. I ran the first, 10^th and 25^th (and last) Drake Relays Marathons. In 2003, I ran the shorter of the meet’s two road races.

I’m a Drake graduate – with a one-of-a-kind, self-designed major in running. Traveling to nearly half the states with the team and writing about the sport and the Relays for the school paper couldn’t have prepared me better for my career.

I also belong to a much larger alumni association, as a graduate of the Drake Relays. Anyone who has ever run there, or coached or worked or watched there, will never forget it – same as with anyone who has ever visited Hayward Field for a track meet.

Hayward and Drake have been the settings for memorable events for a long time. Besides hosting the Prefontaine Classic each year, the Eugene track is the only one to house three Olympic Trials (1972-76-80), plus a World Masters meet (1989) and many USA and NCAA Championships. There’s talk of making it the NCAA’s permanent home.

Des Moines has hosted the Drake Relays since the very early 1900s. The Saturday program has sold out the stadium since the mid-1960s.

Both tracks bring in loyal and knowledgeable crowds. Both have dedicated and experienced officials.

Both places are national treasures, shrines even. Runner-turned-TV-personality Marty Liquori once called Hayward Field the “Carnegie Hall” of track.

That’s close, but even closer would be the “Fenway Park.” Drake Stadium is our “Wrigley Field.”

Just as the two baseball parks have their quirky trademarks – the Green Monster and the ivy-covered outfield wall – so do the tracks. Hayward has its wooden, covered grandstands. Drake has its sunken infield and squared-off north turn.

As shrines usually are, both stadiums are old, built between the World Wars. Both must preserve and protect the old atmosphere while keeping up with the competitive times.

Hayward has done that better than Drake, with major upgrades in the 1970s and 1980s. Repairs were made in 2002 when the original east grandstand faced condemnation. Other costly overhauls are planned.

Drake has been slower to act, which is why it hasn’t been able to host another NCAA meet since 1970. The stadium is showing its age, and the track can’t be considered for events on this scale.

Which is why the folks in Des Moines are trying to raise $25 million to maintain and modernize this shrine. Drake wants to become a serious bidder for meets that routinely go to Eugene – the NCAA regionals and nationals, to USATF championships, to U.S. juniors and masters.

To borrow a line from the fictional movie “Field of Dreams,” set in Iowa, Drake’s promoters believe, “Build it and they will come.” Here that line probably will come true.

Whichever site a big event chooses, Des Moines or Eugene, it will be a home meet for me.

UPDATE FROM 2015

Drake succeeded in its major rehab effort (while losing the unique sunken infield and squared north turn), and has since hosted USATF and NCAA championships. Hayward also underwent major renovations before hosting those same meets and its fourth Olympic Trials in 2008 (with two more to follow). The Drake Relays celebrated its 100^th anniversary in 2009.

[Hundreds of previous articles, dating back to 1998, can be found at joehenderson.com/archive/. Many books of mine, old and recent, are now available in  as many as three different formats: (1) in print from Amazon.com; (2) as e-books from Amazon.com and BarnesandNoble.com; (3) as PDFs for e-reader devices and apps, from Lulu.com. Latest released was Going Far. Other titles: Home Runs, Joe’s Journal, Joe’s Team, Learning to Walk, Long Run Solution, Long Slow Distance, Marathon Training, Run Right Now, Run Right Now Training Log, See How We Run, and Starting Lines, plus Rich Englehart’s book about me, Slow Joe.]

Do-It-Yourself Doctoring

(This piece is for my book-in-progress titled See How We Run: Best Writings from 25 Years of Running Commentary. I am posting an excerpt here each week, this one from April 2003.)

I’m not a doctor, but I often play one in my working life. Questions about running medicine come my way almost every day. I decline to guess at specific diagnoses and plead ignorance to medical treatments, despite having soaked up a little medical knowledge from editing the books of four different doctors.

But I do talk in general terms about getting hurt and getting well. In that area I am an expert, having done both so often myself. This I can tell you about suffering and rehabbing injuries:

– They are likely, if not inevitable. Almost everyone who runs gets hurt eventually, and almost everyone gets better soon.

– They are minor. Seldom do these injuries interfere with normal life, or require a doctor’s help, or extensive and expensive care.

– They are self-inflicted. Usually they result not from “accidents” but from the Big Four mistakes – running too far, too fast, too soon, too often.

– They are self-treatable. Usually they respond quickly to simple adjustments in training type and amount.

– They allow activity. If it isn’t reduced running, then it can be an agreeable alternative.

This leads to an illustrative story about a young friend of mine named Amanda. She jumped up her mileage too quickly and suffered a suspected stress fracture in her upper leg.

The doctor said Amanda would need a bone scan to confirm these suspicions. “How much will that cost?” she asked.

When she heard an amount that would cut too deeply into her student budget, she said, “And if it is a stress fracture, what will the treatment be?” No cast, no medicine, just no running for at least six weeks, she was told.

Amanda decided she didn’t need a definitive diagnosis. She already wasn’t running, but was substituting water-running while the leg recovered. She was practicing a do-it-herself doctoring plan.

(This plan worked. Six weeks after first feeling the injury, Amanda began to run again. A month after that, she was back to her pre-injury pace.)

Let’s say an injury has knocked you off your feet. A doctor can only diagnose why you’re hurting and suggest what to do about it. YOU are responsible for your rehab.

Your best friend now isn’t a medical professional; its your own pain. It tells you what you can and can’t do while recovering.

Whatever the specifics of what ails you, there is a path back to health that lets you heal and still stay active, fit and sane. Choose your level of activity according to the severity of symptoms, then work up through these steps of rehab:

1. If walking is painful and running is impossible, bike or swim (or “run” in water) for the usual running time periods. These activities take nearly all pressure off most injuries, while still allowing steady effort.

2. If walking is relatively pain-free but running still hurts, start to walk as soon as you can move ahead without limping or increasing the pain. Observe these two warning signs at all stages of recovery.

3. If walking is easy and some running is possible, add intervals of slow running – as little as one minute in five at first, then gradually building up the amount of running until you reach the next stage.

4. If running pain eases but minor discomfort persists, the balance tips in favor of running mixed with walking. Insert brief walks at this stage when you can’t yet tolerate steady pressure. Many injuries respond better to intermittent running than to the steady type.

5. If all pain and tenderness are blessedly gone, run steadily again. But approach it cautiously for a while as you regain lost fitness. Run a little slower than normal, with no long or fast efforts until you can handle the short-slow runs comfortably.

Stretching and strengthening exercises? Again, let pain be your friend and guide. Exercise too violently, and you can set back the healing.

Run on soft surfaces? They aren’t as soothing to sore legs as they may seem. Uneven ground causes twisting that can cancel the benefits of softness, so choose a smooth, flat running surface during recovery.

Also it’s good to repeat yourself at this stage. Run laps instead of a single big loop to give yourself a place to stop a run early without being miles from home.

A patient patient knows when to stop. Cutting short a run during rehab isn’t a sign of weakness but of wisdom.

UPDATE FROM 2015

Of the running-medicine books I helped write, only one remains in print. In the early 1990s,  I collaborated with podiatrist Joe Ellis on Running Injury-Free. Dr. Ellis updated that book and Rodale reissued it in 2014, without my help this time.

[Hundreds of previous articles, dating back to 1998, can be found at joehenderson.com/archive/. Many books of mine, old and recent, are now available in  as many as three different formats: (1) in print from Amazon.com; (2) as e-books from Amazon.com and BarnesandNoble.com; (3) as PDFs for e-reader devices and apps, from Lulu.com. Latest released was Going Far. Other titles: Home Runs, Joe’s Journal, Joe’s Team, Learning to Walk, Long Run Solution, Long Slow Distance, Marathon Training, Run Right Now, Run Right Now Training Log, See How We Run, and Starting Lines, plus Rich Englehart’s book about me, Slow Joe.]

Chasing Dreams

(This piece is for my book-in-progress titled See How We Run: Best Writings from 25 Years of Running Commentary. I am posting an excerpt here each week, this one from January 2003.)

Desmond O’Neill numbers himself among a rare species: runners whose beginnings date from the 1950s. Which is to say, with nearly 50 years of wear, their feet and legs don’t work as smoothly as they once did – or as the longtime runners would like.

When I made passing mention of a light shoe that had made my running easier this past year, the Santa Barbara attorney responded, “I have to go to the big heavy clunkers-for-Clydesdales, usually Asics Kayanos. I would love to be able to get out in a pair of race shoes, or something a lot lighter than the Kayano anyway, and let ’er rip.”

He called this “a good recurring running dream. The nightmare running dream is arriving at the start of a race either late, or without my shoes, or both. Do you ever have dreams/nightmares about running?”

Oh, do I! At the risk of exposing the darkest reaches of my mind, I’ll confess to a few dreams to see if they trigger any nods of recognition in you.

One year I ran the Royal Victoria Marathon twice – first in my sleeping mind and then for real. The pre-race dream had me needing a ride to the starting line. We found all four of our car’s tires flat.

I told my wife Barbara about the dream. Her instant interpretation: “you’re worried about your feet giving out, or maybe just about feeling flat and tired.”

My marathon wound down into a survival shuffle. I hoped to see Barbara at 25 miles, because I’d rehearsed a greeting for her. “I’m flat and tired,” I would say, “but not REtired.”

We missed connections, but it’s just as well she didn’t see me. Such shuffling isn’t a pretty sight in a loved one.

Eventually I finished. The memories of that day are better than the dreams were the night before.

Many of my dreams deal with frustrations: can’t find the starting line... can’t get my shoes on... can’t pin on my number... can’t set my watch to 0:00... can’t find my way on a course that passes through the maze-like corridors and closed doors of office buildings or hotels.

A student of dreams would have to tell me what this all means. It may have to do with fears of ambitions being blocked.

Rich Englehart, a professor of psychology as well as a running dreamer, says, “Most dreams are related to memories or to anticipation of impending events. I’d expect some of the ‘can’t find shoes’ or ‘missed connection’ dreams have to do with anticipation and anxiety over an impending race, or over a task that seems race-like in your understanding.”

Rich recalls “running” one entire Boston Marathon in his sleep, “waking up thrilled and satisfied with how well I’d done, only to be appalled to learn when I woke up that it was Patriot’s Day morning and that I still had to run the race. I ran it very poorly and attributed it to the fact that I was completely flat from the effort of the dream.”

My oldest dreams go back to nights before high school and college races, when sleep came fitfully and made the dreamscape easier to replay. My legs turned to cooked spaghetti and wouldn’t support me. I wound up “running” on all-fours.

Another old standby dream reappeared the night before I wrote these lines. While headed into a crowd of runners, I looked down to see that I’d forgotten to wear shorts. What does that tell you, Dr. Freud?

UPDATE FROM 2015

I don’t race anymore; haven’t really raced since the 1980s. But I still have racing dreams.

The “crawling” dream rarely surfaces anymore. Now that I’m truly slow, I more often dream about being really fast.

I run with the leaders, way over my head, amazed at the split times. Finally realizing I don’t belong there, I panic and never reach the finish before waking up. This may have to do with what I imagine to be potential never fully tapped.

[Hundreds of previous articles, dating back to 1998, can be found at joehenderson.com/archive/. Many books of mine, old and recent, are now available in  as many as three different formats: (1) in print from Amazon.com; (2) as e-books from Amazon.com and BarnesandNoble.com; (3) as PDFs for e-reader devices and apps, from Lulu.com. Latest released was Going Far. Other titles: Home Runs, Joe’s Journal, Joe’s Team, Learning to Walk, Long Run Solution, Long Slow Distance, Marathon Training, Run Right Now, Run Right Now Training Log, See How We Run, and Starting Lines, plus Rich Englehart’s book about me, Slow Joe.]

Race to Train

(This piece is for my book-in-progress titled See How We Run: Best Writings from 25 Years of Running Commentary. I am posting an excerpt here each week, this one from May 2002.)

My next trip will take me to Alaska. While there I’ll talk with a group I don’t often visit: high school runners.

I don’t know exactly what I’ll say to them. Whatever it is, the message will stay simple.

That’s not because they’re too young to understand anything more complex. It’s because running isn’t all that complicated. I learned that at high school age, then forgot it and had to relearn it in later years.

My first coach, Dean Roe, admitted that he didn’t know the finer points of running training. But he knew very well the mindset of young runners, who run to compete.

He trained us for racing by racing. He raced us often and always all-out, if not in true meets then against teammates in simulated races.

Mr. Roe had moved on to another school by my senior year. But he’d left his lessons with me.

My only addition to his simple racing-as-training plan was to fill the gaps between races with longer and slower runs for recovery and endurance-building. That senior track season I raced myself from bad to great shape quicker than ever before or after.

A case of the flu, then an injury (from a midrace fall) cost me most of the first month of the season. Mine didn’t really start until late April, leaving just a month before high school track ended.

In my first race back, the state’s best miler beat me by a full straightaway. Shocked at my slowness and sluggishness, I took a crash course in speed.

It started that very night with a double in the half-mile. Over the next three weeks I raced nine more times, usually at the shorter distance.

Results: 18 seconds of improvement in the mile and a 10-second PR in just a month... a win at the state meet over the boy who’d beaten me by 100 yards a few weeks before... a bonus state title in the half-mile... and the next week a “5K” (we actually ran three miles back then) PR that would never fall.

I credit this to the frequent and fast racing, with an assist from the relaxed recovery runs in between. Later I ran farther, faster, harder on more complicated programs – but never better in a single month than May 1961.

The closest I came was the year 1968. Again the formula came down to the two basics: race-often-and-hard and run-longer-and-easier. I raced dozens of times that year and PRed in more than half those events.

George Young taught me the value of races-as-training in the early 1970s, when he was about to make his fourth Olympic team in his third different event. He purposely raced often.

“You talk of speed work in terms of interval quarter-miles and all those things,” Young said at the time. “But you don’t get the speed work there that you get in a race.”

You can’t match the excitement, or the effort, any other way. The racing atmosphere brings out your very best in the current race and again in races that follow.

Please don’t read this as an invitation to over-race. Racing four times a week surely is too much. But racing only four times a season is too little, especially for the young who run to race.

I now teach the young. When I ask the college students in my beginners’ class what they want to accomplish there, three-fourths of them give a racing goal: to run a faster mile or enter a 5K race.

Students in my 5K training class all have some running experience. Most have raced before, many have competed on high school teams and a few have raced in college. They all want to improve.

These runners began this spring’s term with a simulated 5K race. Once a week they ran run another thinly disguised race – a shorter one to improve speed – with longer and easier runs in between.

Result: In just two months 17 of 18 students dropped their 5K times, by an average of 80 seconds. It’s one final exam they looked forward to taking, because they had done their homework and success is all but guaranteed.

UPDATE FROM 2015

Some runners and their coaches still treat racing as risky business, to be limited in high season and avoided in others. High school runners train through some races at low effort to “save myself” for bigger ones. College runners skip the smaller meets to peak for a few big ones. Marathoners stop racing for months while training for a single race.

The penalties of going raceless are many: runners feel less a part of the team when they don’t race, they and their hometown fans don’t see each other, and they skip what most motivates them to run at all.

Mainly, though, they miss the wonderful training effects of racing. Those benefits are almost magical.

[Hundreds of previous articles, dating back to 1998, can be found at joehenderson.com/archive/. Many books of mine, old and recent, are now available in  as many as three different formats: (1) in print from Amazon.com; (2) as e-books from Amazon.com and BarnesandNoble.com; (3) as PDFs for e-reader devices and apps, from Lulu.com. Latest released was Going Far. Other titles: Home Runs, Joe’s Journal, Joe’s Team, Learning to Walk, Long Run Solution, Long Slow Distance, Marathon Training, Run Right Now, Run Right Now Training Log, See How We Run, and Starting Lines, plus Rich Englehart’s book about me, Slow Joe.]