Ed: OK. So live blogging didn't go as planned

Not sure what happened or why. That's to be looked into later...the bottom line is that for some reason nothing worked on the road (well, except for reliable Twitter). I'll figure out why it happened and fix it...for next time.

Did you catch that? Next time!

I'll write a post-run note when I have a moment, but I did take a little time to put together a quick little teaser trailer of this amazing weekend. When the collaborative media gets all assembled, we'll put something together to sum up what a wonderful weekend that was.

Thanks to Amy Bleich and her amazing support folks (shout out to Kandace and Vicky!) for keeping us safe, fed, and hydrated this weekend!

Ed: Live Blogging

Alrighty...this is unashamed nerdiness!

I've decided to try my hand at live mobile blogging to make sure the technology works. Right now I am at the starting point for Friday's run, captured my location on my iPhone's GPS, and am sending up an image from here...if all works as advertised we should be able to update along our route for those interested in following our progress Friday and Saturday.

Oh, and for our coordinator Amy Bleich, I'm here to get my required reflective vest so you'll let me run!

I almost feel like a real St Jude runner!!

...soon to be filled with runners and supporters:






...here's to hoping this works!!!

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Boardwalk Dr,Champaign,United States

Ed: Days away...and our route!

It's been more than a week since I've taken some time to blog. Been busy, but still running in preparation. I ran my last training run on Tuesday, and was happy enough with the result. I managed to run non-stop for 33 minutes, and although again not a blistering pace--it will do.

I did take some time to take our route and plot it out on Google Maps. Each of the St. Jude icons represents a relay stop for us. The distance and arrival times are noted at each. For any of the St. Jude runners who wish to share this with your families--please do! They'll be able to get a better idea of where we will be along the way  (thanks to our coordinator, Amy Bleich, for her hard work in driving this route and checking it out for safety!).


You can zoom in on the route (or open the route in another window using the link below the image), and each icon can be clicked to tell you how far we will have run, and what time we expect to arrive at that location.
For the really geeky (fist bump to you), you can download this Google Earth .kmz file and take a spin around the route in 3D! For the non-geeks, clicking on the "Earth" option in the top right will do just about the same thing. I've also embedded a Google Earth tour that you should only have to click the play button to see our route--depending on your computer and plug-in settings. I've even set the controls so that you can pause the tour and take a look around using the navigation bar on the right side. What's sorta cool (if this actually works on your computer), is that the tour takes 17 minutes, and represents traveling at 350 miles an hour (for those who have been following my blogs, you should know that is actually 352.941176470588235 miles an hour). Feel free to hit the fast forward.
...but as you zip through at whatever speed, consider that for the runners, this will take over 20 hours to complete. The butterflies are starting to flutter a bit...

View St. Jude Champaign-Peoria Run 2011 in a larger map

Ed: So how do you run faster?

I've been able to reliably run an 11-minute mile now. Yay!

The mystery still for me, is in the pacing. I've been trying to figure out exactly how to pace myself correctly so I don't burn out too early. My history has been to run too fast at first, then get too tapped out to keep it up for 2 miles or so. There has to be a way to figure out this conundrum.

So I asked Kathleen. She was engrossed in her morning paper, but that did not deter me. I had to know.

"How do you run faster?"

She looked at me sorta weird...like I just asked a really stupid question (I am well-familiar with that look). One of those sideways Huh? looks. She paused a moment, gathering her thoughts--I leaned forward as I eagerly awaited her advice.

"Well, you run faster for a bit, then slower, then faster...and eventually you'll be able to run faster." She turned back to her paper.

That was not the sage advice I was looking for.

"No, I mean, HOW do you run faster?"

Sideways look again. She clearly was not getting it. I got the same response.

A bit about me: I can be geeky at times. I get engrossed in minutia, and tend to like things broken down into something that can be translated into an equation. I like things that way--easier for me to understand and digest. In short...I'm a nerd.

"No. I mean pacing. Each step goes just so far. Each step takes a certain amount of time. Do you keep the same stride length, and increase how fast your legs move, or do you increase your stride length and keep the same cadence?"

She was back buried in her paper. She clearly was tired of this line of questioning. She is not a nerd.

"I dunno. I guess both"

Exasperated, I turned to the comfort of my laptop computer.

I could not help but notice that running on the sidewalk entails watching the concrete seams go by evenly. For the most part, those concrete sections are all the same. The construction requires repetition...and those seams are 60 inches apart (yes, I went out and measured them). One mile equals 63360 inches (give or take a smidge). Hmm. That means there are 1056 concrete tiles in a mile**. A few more taps at the keyboard, and that turned into 96 tiles per minute, or if you prefer (and I did) 1.6 tiles per second.

Now THAT information I can work with. Obviously, however, 1.6 tiles per second is not overly helpful for me. I need to further define that into something more easily packaged. Like, 16 tiles in 10 seconds or something like that. But I needed to know the length of my stride to factor that into the equation.

"Sweetie, when you are running, how far is each stride for you? I need to figure out my stride. Have you measured how far you get per step?"

OK. I admit. That was too far. Especially with a wife engrossed in her paper. Her turn to be exasperated.

"Just take a step and measure it."

That clearly won't work. That's not very precise. There are too many variables, and far too small a sample. This had to be done scientifically.

I explained to Kathleen (not really sure she heard me...I don't think she looked up) that the way to do this was to measure the length of our sidewalk, using the tiles as a reference, then run 100 feet or so counting my strides, then divide 1200 inches by the number of strides and I'll have a reasonable estimation of the average length of my stride.

Voila! I can now use that to calculate the strides I need over time, occasionally count the tiles as they go by to make a check, and I'll ensure to maintain a consistent pace for the St. Jude run.

I was excited (nerds get that way about such things) I shared my new-found knowledge with Kathleen.

"And exactly how will that help you on the black top in the middle of the farmland. You do realize there're no sidewalks, and we run in the street, right?"

#!%$^!&&!!

...anybody interested in a slightly used Excel file?

Wait! If the corn rows are planted evenly....hmmm

** Along the way, I learned something. The number of tiles was close enough to 1000--and that got me curious. So I looked up the history of a mile, and learned that the origin of the word finds its roots in latin for mille passuum or "1000 paces." Before I dumped my Excel program, I discovered that the ancients used a 63" average stride to measure a mile...close enough for me and gives different meaning to those concrete sections.

Ed: Donors and Donations

Yesterday I made our first deposit of the donations we've received from generous supporters of our upcoming run. There will be more deposits before we start our run August 5th.

I tend to get a little reflective from time-to-time, and yesterday was one of those days.

Being part of raising money for St. Jude, part of funding hope for sick children, has been a bit of journey for me. This isn't dropping a dollar in the Salvation Army pot during the Christmas season. This has required some time, certainly some energy, and a little humbleness to solicit our friends, family, and strangers for money during these tight times.

In a few weeks, it will put a physical demand on all the runners who will participate in this wonderful cause.

Kathleen and I were talking about it last night. Runners have been training and preparing for this---it will be difficult no doubt--but we suspect there is not a single parent of a St. Jude patient who wouldn't trade places with us in a second if it meant their child did not require the kind of care St. Jude offers. I can't even begin to imagine the heartbreak--and hope--that these parents and children go through.

Gathering up the manila envelope with the donations we've so far received, I headed out to the bank to make a deposit for St. Jude Runners. I got thinking about that envelope, what was in it, and what it meant.

The hours spent preparing the donation requests entailed writing a letter, hand-writing each address, stamping the reply envelope, stamping the outside envelope, and getting it off in the mail. Each donation represented somebody else having to take the time to write a check, and send the envelope back to us. "Thank You!" notes are written and mailed back. There were donations of all amounts, large and small. Almost all donations that, in the eye of the donor, were "small" had a hand-written note apologizing that it was not more. I wish I could convey the deep appreciation we had for EACH donation...no apologies necessary.

That little manila envelope represented so much. There was a lot of love, care, and energy stored up in there. And hope.

So I got to the bank, and filled out a couple of deposit slips. We had more checks than the line-by-line listing allowed, so it required a bit to get it all organized. Frankly, I kept screwing it up, and had to fill out more than a couple of deposit slips. I would add it up wrong, or I miscounted the checks, or something. It was always something. But, I finally had something I was convinced was accurate--and stood in line to make the deposit.

Approaching the counter, I described what the event was all about (got a lot of approving nods from customers and tellers alike), and handed over the donations and deposit slips. The helpful teller noted the total from the slips, made some sort of entries into the computer, printed out the receipt, and handed it to me with her good wishes. She did not count, nor verify what I gave her...I was a bit astounded, particularly with my gnashing of teeth with my ineptness in filling out those slips correctly the first time.

"Don't you count and verify the checks??" I asked her with my head askew.

"Nope. They all get batch run through a computer reader, any errors will be corrected later" was her reply.

Huh.

So in the end, all these donations were treated as one big total. The computer, sans emotion, will dutifully record each one without pausing to think about the meaning of each individual amount--large or small. The computer won't fret about the value of the individual donation...but that total amount will join others as they come in from all over. I left the bank satisfied as I realized that although I brought individual donations from our friends and family--what really counted was that we were, each of us in our own way, helping those children at St. Jude.

All donations count toward the total at the end. No apologies needed.

Today's video:

Ed: Of heat indexes and pacing

I decided to tackle a modified route that I ran yesterday, but do it at night this time. Not sure that was overly useful since my weather app dutifully told me that with 89% humidity, the "feels like" temperature was 102° at 9 PM. No matter how one measures it, it is warm tonight.

I had a couple of goals in mind. First and foremost was to complete the run without stopping. I sorta cheated in that I decided to cut the route a little shorter and make it only 2.2 miles. The second was to work on my pacing. For that I needed to establish some reference points. I located the one and two mile points using GoogleEarth, and made a mental note.

After some stretching at my customary mini-boulder on the neighbor's lawn, and I was on my way.

Not far into my run I passed though what could only be described as hazy fog of cigarette smoke. There was nobody around, but it sure lingered. That was unpleasant...the humidity really intensified the experience--and not in a good way. I continued south as I did yesterday, made my turn to the west, and ran past my one mile reference point. I looked at my watch and was dismayed.

13:27?

That's not a pace that will be helpful on the St. Jude run. I'm capable of a 12 minute pace, but I made the mistake of not fixing an earlier reference point to check how I am doing. Memo to self: when adjusting my running for a specific pace, I would do better than to check at one mile. I need a 1/4 and 1/2 mile fix. Not tonight though...no information to work with. So I press on to my two-mile mark.

Running at night has some benefits (temperature--normally), but certainly there are some drawbacks. There are no streetlights where we live, save for the occasional home with something out in the driveway. Oncoming cars tend to blind, making seeing challenging on a dark sidewalk. For the most part though, I can see well enough with the occasional passing car, yard lights, and just the ambient light that a neighborhood casts. There are, to be sure, some pretty dark areas that I am running in. Running in the darkness is an act of faith more than anything else. Pretty sure there's concrete there, and I think it's level...

Ooooomph!

Second memo to self: call the city and have them take a look at that frost-heave. I remembered seeing it in the daylight yesterday, and it was a good 4-6 inches displaced from level. Running at a constant pace, one expects shoe-and-concrete to connect with a certain rhythm. Back there? Not so much. That took my breath away, but I kept running on. I was just glad it was a drop and not a step up. Making a face-plant on concrete would have made me grumpy.

I finally turned down the road towards my home, and passed the two-mile mark. I looked at my watch again and was not happy with what I saw: 27:10. Not good enough. I maintained a consistent pace for the entire run, but I need to be faster. From my previous measurements I knew that I had .2 miles to finish the run at our home--so I bolted for that last bit. I ran basically as fast as my legs would carry me--and finished that part without stopping. I had the energy to run at a fairly good clip--even after running almost a half hour.

I think tomorrow is a rest day. I need to give the legs a chance to recuperate. My next run will be the same distance, but I'm kicking the pace up.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Tonight's video is DJ's story:

Ed: Time to face the heat...and got my rear handed to me

I've been putting this off, but, like ripping off a bandaid--it was time to just do it.

I know that part of the Champaign-to-Peoria run involves running in oppressive heat. Or at least an expectation of it. So I decided today was the day to increase my distance, and at the same time, run during the hottest part of the day. It was in the low 90's this afternoon, just perfect to see where I am in terms of preparedness for what I'll be facing in less than three weeks.

I also decided to mix it up a bit, and leave the familiar confines of my little neighborhood street run. That decision would have unintended consequences later.

So for this run, instead of heading due west, I would instead turn south. Our neighborhood, as is custom for the midwest, is boxed cleanly in a one square mile area, bounded conveniently by four major intersections each one mile apart. Within that square mile are all the multitudes of streets, drives, courts, and walking paths that make a pleasant place to live.

It also makes a great place to plan runs that ensure this particular home-body doesn't stray too far from the cave. In fact, I've taken GoogleEarth and tracked out a circuitous run within the upper left corner of our square mile of where we live, and it totals up to a 5K run. GoogleEarth tells me that I am never farther than .47 miles from my home (or 440.69 Smoots* if you're into that sort of measurement).

So...back to the run. I head south, knowing this was scary uncharted waters for me. I've pre-plotted the distance and know that my run will be just shy of three miles. It's an unfamiliar path to the southern border of our square mile. I don't know what my time references are--in my usual route I know where I should be by looking at my watch (or vice-versa). But I certainly won't have that comfort on the relay to Peoria either.

Right on schedule, about two minutes into my run, my legs start to complain a bit--but as I've mentioned this is just background stuff. I just ignore it. My pace is...well...I don't know what my pace is. I looked at my watch, and it's been six minutes of running--but that is meaningless without context (I noted that in my usual route, I would be turning north at that point). I have an older iPhone that simply gives up and quits if I dare to challenge the GPS to keep accurate record for time and distance.

So, I plod on, silently pacing my steps: St. Jude, St. Jude, St. Jude.

Finally I hit the southern border, and turn west. The heat is now starting to take a bit of a toll on me. I'm still OK, but I feel like it would not take much convincing for me to simply just start walking. I actually toy with the idea, but dismiss it. At least based on simple geometry, I know how far this part of the run is to the western edge. I make the turn to the north, and now note it is exactly one mile until I hit the northern border. Based on my normal pacing, that should be 12 minutes away. I also know that before I actually get to the northern border, I will re-connect with my familiar route where I make my turn to the north.

I find myself looking forward to reconnecting back to my old route--but I unwittingly set up a failure as a result.

With the afternoon sun, and my northerly course, it's getting pretty warm on the left side of my body. I really am sensing the onset of fatigue--something I've been unfamiliar with in my training. I've been careful not to push too hard--but this is crunch time. The run is less than three weeks away so I have to push harder now. Heat, distance, and running harder is a recipe for some serious body aches.

As I work my way north, I finally see the road I normally run west on. I mentally reconnect myself to that point, and visualize what is ahead. The grocery store, bank, fast food place, church, barking dog, then home. For my run, I planned on completing it in 33 minutes--that would ensure that I am minimally maintaining a 12-minute per mile pace. I won't set records with that--I used to be able to run it in seven, but that was 86 pounds and 40 years ago (yikes!).

But it will do.

I assess my stamina, my energy, my complaining legs, the heat--and judge the remaining part of the run--I'm good. I don't have much in the way of reserves left...but I can do this. As I near my familiar land mark, or so I thought, I realized with some sort of runner's horror that I mentally peaked too early. That was NOT my corner. This is what I meant earlier about setting myself up for a failure.

Well where was I? Surely it cant' be far. Next block up maybe? There's a jog in the sidewalk, and bushes block my view, so I am unsure of exactly how far I have to go. As I finally get a clear shot of the distant traffic light, I realized that I was well short of my planned reconnect to my old route. I still had maybe a quarter-mile to go until I got back on familiar territory. I kept plodding on...St. Jude, St. Jude, St. Jude. Finally I was back on my old route again--there's the defunct office building, and the signage for the grocery store not much further past that.

But here's where the familiarity did me in. I had peaked mentally too early. I was now exhausted and was starting to experience some side pain. I'd been running for about 28 minutes without stopping at this point, I did not want to create any issues that would carry into tomorrow.

I reluctantly stopped running, and started walking. I walked for about 2 or 3 minutes, then picked up the pace again--only to have to stop once more because of the side pain. At least that stupid barking dog wasn't there to see me walking (truth be told, I sorta missed that wretched creature). The second walk allowed me sufficient recovery to run the remainder home, but I failed to run the entire extended route non-stop in the heat.

OK. So I got my butt handed to me today. Tomorrow is another training day for me, and I'll get back out there again and have another go at it. I'm still far closer to being ready than I think Kathleen is thinking, but I'm getting there!

I'll be ready to participate in that relay of 110 miles, or if you prefer, 104,023.95 Smoots.



*A Smoot is equal to one Oliver Smoot's height in 1958--or more accurately 5' 7" If you really want to expand your horizon about why there's even a Smoot unit of measure on GoogleEarth, you can find out about it in a Wikipedia article.

Tonight's video is about 5-yr old Ellen Taylor